#Chapter 51 – Lupa

Frankie doesn’t say anything when I get down to the car, just smirks at me and raises an eyebrow. I don’t bother to fill him in, giving a coy shrug as I move to the front seat and slide in. We’re on the road quickly and Frankie fills the ride with chatter, telling me the basics about Lupa, which apparently is a very swankie little bar. I’ll be working the lunch shift today, obviously, but Frankie says I can expect it to be packed. “It takes a while to get a reservation, apparently,” he says as we turn into the staff parking lot behind the tall building of which Lupa is a part. “Well, if it’s so popular,” I murmur, frowning at him as we pull into a space. “Why haven’t I heard of it?” “Because,” Frankie says, giving me a little grin, “it doesn’t precisely advertise itself. It’s not like you can just go to the website and book online. You have to know people to get in here, and half the tables are held daily for celebrities and the mafia big-shots that this place serves.” “Oh,” I say