“Yep. I have three brothers, one older and two younger. And too many uncles, aunts, and cousins on both my dad and my mom’s side to count. I guess that’s what happens when an Irish man marries an Italian woman.”

Oh, so that explains his uncommon name, the Mediterranean colorings of his skin and hair, and the fact that he speaks Italian paired with the Irish surname, green eyes, and freckles.

“What do your brothers do?”

“Johnathan, the older, is a cop, just been promoted to detective. Greg, the other middle child, is a fireman. And the baby, Adam, is a cop, too, but he’s trying out for the FBI next year.”

“Whoa, sounds like a committed public-service bunch.”

“Well, my dad’s been a cop for forty years…” He grimaces. “I’m the only one not to have followed in his footsteps, more or less.”

“Do they give you a hard time about it?”

“Used to. I can’t even remember how many sermons I had to hear about how acting wasn’t a sound career choice. Now, I think they just feel sorry for me.” Diego looks away in the distance. “My dream was easier to sell ten years ago. But after so many years without a breakthrough, they must wonder what I’m still doing in this city working as a server, and what my plan is.”

“So, you’re a member of the sibling-to-be-pitied club, huh?”

He frowns. “Why? Your parents aren’t happy with your career?”

“Unfortunately, it has more to do with the lack of a diamond ring on my finger at the late age of thirty, and my inability to supply chubby grandkids.”

“Oooooh, I know the drill,” Diego sympathizes. “Two of my brothers are already married, and both have kids.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you had a big family.”

“Nope.”

“You’ll have to write me a family tree so I can learn their names.”

“Why? It’s not like you’ll ever meet them.”

“No, but my mom or sister could ask questions.” Knowing them, they certainly will. “It’d be weird if I knew nothing about your family, at least the basics.” I grab a pad and a pencil from the coffee table and hand them to him. “Just put down your mom, dad, brothers, and their spouses and kids’ names.”

Diego sets his almost-empty wine glass on the table and takes the notepad.

“Refill?” I ask, as he writes down the O’Donnell genealogy.

“Yes, please.”

I top up his glass and wait for him to be done before asking my next question. “Why New York? Wouldn’t LA have been the more obvious choice for an aspiring actor?”