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I clasp my hands around my whiskey glass, letting the coolness calm my nerves. Yeah, I take it with ice now, ever since that night she snuck behind the bar and took it upon herself to pour me a scotch. My chest feels weak just thinking about it. She was mad at me then, too, for a different reason. The revenge I took to protect her was too gruesome. I keep messing it all up. But really? I’m clearing the way so we can have a good life together. Just don’t give up on us, kid.
A swig numbs my lips and a bit of the pain. Going over the conversation in my head doesn’t help. Asking her if she was still mad about me and Marco beating the shit out of each other, or the man drowned in gold, or anything else, she just brushed it off as if she was having a bad day.
It’s not her period. Can’t be. I fucked her on it over a week ago. Been jerkin’ it to that time for six nights straight now.
“There he is!” Big Ace waddles to the bar from the mall walkway. He’s all smiles because he’s about to get his share of the big day. He looks me up and down, trying to judge how beaten up I am. The whole crew heard about Marco going off the rails, so it’s about time I sat everyone down and got it all aired out – to my main crew at least.
“Been putting vitamin E on that, right?” He squints to better look at the wound on my cheek.
“Don’t worry about me, Ace.”
“It’s my job to. Fat prick actually paid up, huh?” He points at the briefcase and slaps my shoulder.
I look at his belly as if to say, are you sure you should be calling someone else that?
We both laugh as he comes in for a hug.
“The Stallion is sending one of his men for his and Rigiano’s share,” I reveal.
“Oh shit, the Don himself. Who’s his proxy?”
I shrug. “John Scar or Dice, probably.”
Ace nods.
“I hope it’s the former,” I say. “Otherwise I’m going to be bailing two fuckheads out of gambling debt.”
“Oh please. I’m always up, baby.” Ace takes a seat next to me, and nods to the others on their way.
Ratchet struts in with two other runners. Limbatso and Fugino. One bows too much like we’re in Japan, and the other has a nervous twitch, but they’re both loyal dogs.
“Give it a few more minutes, then we’ll head to the back,” I tell Ace while saying my hellos to the crew. “Sit, get a drink. Yes, this place is safe. I offered a gift to the owner’s daughter that he’s still praising me for.”
“The whole tri-state is going to be in your debt soon, Bull. It’s good for business.” Ratchet winks.
We wait another ten minutes for the others, and when I see Marco stalking into the bar, I get up and motion everyone toward the back. I stay behind to greet him.
His face healed well, honestly. Still a little discolored around the eyes, but his nose is fixed and less swollen.
We stand face-to-face for the first time since that night. I remain with my hand out, taking a risk of being left hanging with people watching. He stares at me for a long minute – hate, fire in his eyes. After a snap of his tongue, he finally extends his hand.
“Mommy kiss your booboos?” he taunts me.
“Yep. Did yours tuck you in and read you a lullaby?”
“Nah, she couldn’t find me amid all the clothes.” He laughs and pats my back once.
“You really should just hire a maid. What the hell’s the matter with you?” We both work to push past the awkwardness. I wonder if he knows I intend to air it all out.
“A stranger? In my house? Fuck that. Not now, not ever.”
“So you’re just going to live like a hoarder for the rest of your days? At least get the front light fixed, jeez.”
“Yo. Did I invite you over that night? Huh? Didn’t think so. Fuck off.”
We head through an old-style Italian restaurant, to a private back room of mahogany wooden doors. As we push through, the room is already buzzing with red-faced ginzos and laughter that would get any other group kicked out.
I shut the doors behind me and shove Marco lightly to the side for him to take a seat. Voices start to calm, eyes start to shift to their capo. To me.
