Page 34 of The Beast Who Begged Me

I rub my face hard with my good hand and turn my mind to other things. The Gees weren’t expecting me. That’s the thing that pisses me off the most. They thought I’d run and hide just because Big Gee put a target on my back. Well, now this territory will be my first gift of reparation to Don Clemenza.

When Ferraro and the Giordanos turn up, I tell them to clean up and then set up shop for themselves.

“That easy?” Ferraro says, staring at me, as Giordano and his son—who looks pretty green, but is doing his best not to puke—start dragging the first corpse out the back to the white, windowless van they drove here.

“That easy,” I confirm.

He squints at me. “How do I know we can trust you?”

Ferraro likes to make things more difficult than they need to be. “Don Clemenza trusts me,” I tell him, even though it’s a lie. “That should be good enough for you.”

“You’re a Gee.” He points at my hand, the bandaged one. “Says so right there, even if you’re trying to hide it.”

“Things change. You used to be a badass, old man. And look at you now.”

He laughs. “Fuck off outta here and tell Don Clemenza we’ll make him proud.”

“I know you will.”

The Clemenza townhouse still has all those ripped-open walls and floors where someone went looking for something, but Dave Brennan walks through it with me and talks structure and finish like the place is already alive again. He’s got blueprints rolled out on the floor and a schedule in his hand.

“Realistically, you’re looking at eight to ten weeks at the earliest⁠—”

“Two.”

Brennan laughs. Then he sees my face and stops. “Mr. Orsini, with respect, the plaster alone⁠—”

“Two weeks.”

He licks his lips nervously. “Look, at this time of year, with the holiday coming up⁠—”

“Fuck the holiday. Triple the crew, work them around the clock, whatever the permits cost with the rush on them, and triple your rates, too.” I look up the staircase, and for one second I let myself see it finished. The furniture back in place. Locks I chose myself on every window. The best fucking security system in the city.

“But that’s going to cost⁠—”

“I know what it will cost.”

And it’ll still come in cheap. That’s the thing about all that dirty money I made in service of my obsession. There’s only one clean thing left to do with any of it, and that’s spend it on him.

“Sorry” is a beggar’s word. It wants something back in exchange. Forgiveness, softness, another chance.

I’ve got no right to ask anything from him. So I’m not going to tell him I’m sorry.

I’m going to pay damages.

The mansion is quiet when I come in late that night. Upstairs, in the bedroom the Morellis put us in, the lamp is still on, and Caligula is sitting up in bed with a book he’s only pretending to read.

He looks at me. Checks my hands, fast. “What⁠—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He sighs. Puts his book down. “We should talk.”

“Nothing to talk about. Not now,” I go on, as he opens his mouth again, and I look him full in the face for the first time since yesterday. “We’re in another man’s house and I still need to run the room. I’ll do it first thing. But tonight I’ll crash somewhere else.” I head to the closet to grab some clothes.

“No,” he says. “You won’t.”

I pause, hand in my underwear drawer.