Page 142 of Unraveled

It was better to listen to the people around him, let them talk, and then form his own opinions and give orders from what he learned. He learned that quickly enough as a boss. It also left him with too much silent time when he was alone with his thoughts.

All he ever did was think.

“Happy birthday, boss!”

Gian tried to smile as a hand clapped his back with enough force to shake him from his inner hell. It brought his attention forefront to the VIP section of the club, and the men, again. Men celebrating his thirtieth birthday.

He should be celebrating, too.

“Here, another drink,” Stephan said.

A whiskey was shoved into Gian’s hand.

He sipped at the strong liquor, as it gave him something to do. “Merci.”

Stephan said something else, but Gian wasn’t listening. He was not a big partier to begin with, and he had only agreed to this night with his men because they had asked for it. Given how quickly tensions could flare in the family, peace-keeping was a constant part of the business. Especially for Gian.

Earlier in the day, he had spent too many hours sitting around a dinner table with the older generation of Capos in the family and their important people. They, too, had wanted to celebrate their boss’s birthday in some way, but not like the younger men did. Which was understandable.

While the divide between the generational lines had closed enough for Gian to consider it comfortable, he still preferred to keep the two groups separate as much as was possible. He allowed everyone their voice, and their chance to express it. As much as was acceptable, anyway.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy …”

Gian was urged forward in the group of men as a server strolled forward, a cake in her hands. It was a two-tier cake, gold in color, with black trim. The Guzzi family colors. His name and the proper birthday greeting had been scrawled across the side. It certainly looked good, but even his appetite was seriously lacking lately.

Happy birthday, boss.

Dirty thirty, Gian.

The platitudes kept coming from everyone. Gian smiled and nodded, laughing when he needed to. He was never shocked anymore that no one seemed to notice his cheer and good-nature was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie.

He had perfected this shit in no time at all.

“Set it down,” someone told the server with the cake.

A table was pulled over, and the cake was set down. Another man passed Gian a knife, while paper plates, napkins, and plastic forks were set out on the table by another one of the girls who worked in Gian’s club.

“This one is all you,” Domenic said, nodding at Gian, and then to the cake. “Go for it. Might as well add some diabetes into the alcoholism these fools already have.”

Gian smacked his brother in the back of the head for that one. “You’re one to talk. How many nights a week are you in a club drinking, never mind at home alone?”

Dom shrugged. “It’s how I meet people.”

“Right. Good excuse.”

“Just cut your fucking cake, Gian.”

“You know I didn’t ask for a cake,” Gian said to his brother, lowering his tone so only Dom would hear. “I only agreed to a few drinks.”

Dom nodded. “They want to celebrate you, man. Let them.”

Gian sighed.

Right.

Celebrate.

It was only him that wasn’t feeling the party.