The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo

‘Why couldn’t we do something fun? Use humour?’

He recognised the fire in her eyes and momentarily envied it. ‘Like...?’

She suddenly laughed, and it hit him that she smelled of the crisp alpine air that could be found in Tasmania’s Southwest National Park. A place he hadn’t visited in over...

Ten years.

He swallowed and kept his eyes on Neen’s laughing face until the darkness started to dissolve and lose its hold.

‘Why couldn’t we show a motley bunch of teenage boys walking the streets and looking threatening and scary, with a voiceover that says, “Do you want these boys prowling your street?” There could be elderly people rushing into their homes and locking their doors in a really over-the-top way. And then we could pan to the caf'e, with all the boys gainfully employed and serving coffee and scrummy cake to all those previously scared residents. The voiceover could then say something along the lines of, “Help us get them off the streets and gainfully employed”.’

Rico had to laugh at the picture she’d created.

‘We wouldn’t show them actually doing anything illegal. There’d just be a whole gang of them, and they’d be pushing and shoving each other and yahooing like teenage boys do. For some reason people seem to find that intimidating.’

But she didn’t?

He remembered the way she’d bellowed at Monty on the beach and shook his head. Of course she didn’t. He frowned, though, when he remembered the way she’d jumped when that car had backfired. Was that just to do with her ex?

‘It’d generate interest.’

‘It’d cost valuable money...and time.’

‘But if it brings attention to your cause...?’

She had a point.

‘Anyway, let’s move on. As far as an advertising campaign goes, that’s your lookout.’

He marvelled at her energy.

‘I think once we have the occupational health and safety approval we should organise a working bee. We could do the whole radio call-out for help, but can you convince your teenagers to work for nothing?’

‘Some of them, yes.’ Some of them desperately wanted work, wanted a chance. More than he could possibly employ this time around.

‘If they help paint and decorate the caf'e I expect they’ll start to feel invested in it. Especially if we reward them with free pizza.’

‘That’s an excellent plan.’

She sipped her beer. ‘And one you’d already thought of, I see.’

It was something of a relief to know she didn’t have a monopoly on good ideas. ‘Promise teenage boys free food and they’ll be there—wherever there is.’

She laughed. ‘This is probably something else you’ve already considered, but...’

‘But?’

‘We will get tradesman who’ll offer us their time free of charge—painters and carpenters—if we put a call out. Are there any likely suspects among your boys who’d welcome an apprenticeship in those areas?’

He was already on it, but... ‘Darn, you’re good.’

‘I also think we need to build up hype for the caf'e’s opening. Could we raffle or auction tickets to attend lunch on our opening day?’

He rested his elbows on the table. ‘I think it’s a great idea, but I still want to open the caf'e a week Wednesday.’

She pursed her lips, and he almost laughed at the way she hauled in a breath.

‘So we’re going to be busy next week, huh?’

‘Flat out. I’d rather advertise a gala event for a couple of months down the track. I’d like to invite restaurateurs, managers of catering firms, hoteliers...anyone who might be interested in hiring our trainees.’

She clapped her hands. ‘We could work towards a Melbourne Cup luncheon. That gives us plenty of time to get the boys up to scratch.’

And it would give them time to create a snowball effect in the local media too, with the clock ticking down the days. ‘Excellent!’

He sat back. Instead of hard work and an endless round of bureaucratic red tape, Rico started to envisage the fun of the project, the satisfaction of achievement...and the knowledge that he could make this project work.

He could get boys with too much time on their hands off the streets. He could give them a sense of direction.

He stared at Neen. Again he had to fight the urge to reach across and kiss her.

He rolled his shoulders. Gratitude. That was all it was.

He drained the rest of his squash. ‘Neen, I’m impressed. I knew the moment you walked into my office that you were the right person for the job.’ Which begged the question, why had he ranked two other applicants higher? Why hadn’t he trusted his gut instinct?

‘But?’

‘It’s only now I’m seeing exactly how right you are for it. When you refused to sign the two-year contract I questioned your commitment, but I was wrong.’ He sat back. ‘Exactly where have you come by all your energy, your ideas?’ Because if he could he’d bottle it.

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She ducked her head to hide them and his chest clenched tighter than a politician’s handout.

‘What...?’ He swallowed. ‘I was offering you a compliment.’ Or at least trying to. ‘What did I say wrong?’

* * *

The red sting took Neen completely off guard. She forced herself to breathe through it, though the effort left her throat bruised and her eyes aching. She gave thanks that the pub was dim and quiet.

‘What did I say wrong?’

She was barely acquainted with this man, but she knew down to the last detail the frown he’d be wearing. She went to say it was nothing, that she was just being silly, but the words refused to come.

To be perfectly frank, she didn’t feel like lying. Not to Rico. He might be driven, and wholly given over to his good cause, but beneath it all he was a nice man. He saw a problem and searched for a solution.

Except for that brief moment back in the courtyard earlier. Then he’d looked as if he could sleep for fifty years.

She glanced up and winced at the concern in his eyes. She didn’t want him turning her into some paragon and sticking her on a pedestal titled ‘Exemplary Employee’. She’d only disappoint him. She expected that enough of his job was thankless as it was. She didn’t want to add to his load.

She forced back a sigh. ‘You asked me where my energy and my ideas came from...’

‘The question was rhetorical. I was trying to praise you.’

‘I know, and I appreciate it. You made me feel I was doing good work, making a difference in a good way.’ It had been a while since anyone had made her feel like that.

‘But...?’

She leaned towards him. She almost reached out to touch his hand. At the last moment she pulled back, though she couldn’t have explained why. ‘Rico, my dream is to own my own caf'e. For three and a half months I thought that dream was about to become a reality. I was scouting out premises. I was playing around with prospective menus. I got talking to people in the know about prospective staff. My mind was buzzing with ideas. But...’

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