Romeo dusted himself off. “Same standoffish bitch you always were, huh, Tori? You always were one of McFarlane’s pets, weren’t you? When I found out she was still coaching basketball, I came over to have a talk with her-I figured she’d dump the same crap on my kid she did on me, and now I suppose I have to make sure you treat April right, too.”

“Wrong,” I said. “It’s a pleasure coaching April; she’s shaping into a serious little player.”

“I hear any reports that you playing favorites, you letting some of these Mexican scum beat up on her, you answer to me, just remember that.”

April was turning red with embarrassment, so I just smiled and said I’d keep it in mind. “Next time, come early enough to watch her scrimmage. You’ll be impressed.”

He nodded at me, as if to reinforce my acknowledgment of his power, then switched on another smile for Marcena. “Would if I could: it’s my hours. I got off early today and thought I’d take my little girl out for a pizza-how about it, sweetheart?”

April, who’d retreated to the background with Josie Dorrado, looked up with the kind of scowl that teenagers use to conceal eagerness.

“And this English lady who’s writing about your team and the South Side, she’d like to join us. Met me in the parking lot when I was pulling up in the rig. What do you say? We’ll go to Zambrano’s, show her the real neighborhood.”

April hunched a shoulder. “I guess. If Josie can come, too. And Laetisha.”

Romeo agreed with an expansive clap on his daughter’s shoulder and told her to hustle; he had to do some driving after pizza.