refreshing to the man and brought a smile to his face. Seven heard the rumble of the vehicle and came out of the front door to greet him. Gran followed close behind, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Wow, this is nice, like an old painting,” Joey said while scanning the property. When Seven reached arm’s length, Joey pulled him in for a tight hug.
“Joey, this is my grandmother, Patricia Flowers,” Seven said as he released himself from Joey’s grasp.
“Mrs. Flowers, it is an honor to meet you. I have heard so much about you from Seven and Tiffany.” Joey skipped the formalities and instantly pulled Gran’s tiny frame against his. He regulated the strength of the embrace to adjust for the frailty of the recipient. It took the length of the hug for Gran to decide that she approved of Joey. The old southern lady and the middle-aged Italian had absolutely nothing in common, no familiar experiences to share, nothing at all, yet all it took was a smile-filled hug to attach the two like family. Joey D. had mastered the art of interpersonal communication. He had the knack of making people feel comfortable and at ease in his presence. They felt safe and secure with the large man as their friend and confidant. However, he also knew the power of force and intimidation. Joey D. could play the role of good cop and bad cop flawlessly.
Joey D. escorted Gran as she gave him the grand tour of the farmhouse and property. The tour ended with an early dinner. Gran was thrilled to see the volume at which Joey D. consumed her four-course fried chicken dinner. He stopped the chewing process numerous times but only long enough to compliment her on the offering. This act cemented an open invitation from Gran for any meal, anytime.
Once the dishes were cleared, Joey and Seven sat at the kitchen table. Joey brought out a backpack filled with notes, files, and stolen evidence.