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He doesn’t object. He leaves. The door snaps shut. Alone again, I make myself a drink and dial up Pa. Uncle Claro answers.
“He’s out for the count. Nurse Katie gave him his meds. How’s the transition going?” he asks.
“As anticipated. Gio’s crew are worried I’ll bring in fresh faces. My guys from New York.”
“Might be a smart move. Gio’s guys are Gio’s guys. We can find spots for them in other crews here back east.”
It’s an idea I file away for later, when I’m not so fucked up and when the room stops spinning.
“Everything else…it’s good?” There’s a note of concern in Claro’s voice. “No problems?”
“The casino’s running smoothly. So are the rest of our operations.”
“Good, good. People underestimate you, but you can prove ‘em wrong. You don’t let ‘em get you wallowing in self-pity like a pussy bitch. This is your chance. It only comes once.”
“I won’t let myself fail.”
“Just keep clean. That’s the key. You don’t want bad habits getting in the way.”
I stay silent a moment. “I don’t have any bad habits.”
“You were higher than a motherfucking kite, Giancarlo. I’m nobody to judge—I don’t remember the 70s or 80s for that reason. But you let your vices rule you, and you don’t rule.Capeesh?”
He knows.
Which means Pa knows. I rub my nose as it tingles numbly.
“I’ve gotta go. You tell Pa I called.”
“You should be calling Fiona. You know she had coffee with Julianna yesterday and was crying about your breakup? You know how the women get. They expect to be fucking catered to. Invite the girl out there to reconcile…just make sure your sides are nowhere around. It’s what I do. Problem solved.”
“Tell Pa I called,” I repeat before hanging up.
I pocket my phone with a deep sigh and get up for more whiskey. Along the way, I pass a mirror hanging on the wall.
It’s funny that Giovanni and I have always shared the same face. The same everything.
Except for our eyes.
Giovanni’s bright, electric eyes always popped. They flashed with passion for our lifestyle.
Glancing in the mirror, mine are dark and vacant. Even with the high buzzing through my body, making me feel human, I’m still inhuman. I’m still just a shell, pretending to be something more.
Uncle Claro is right, though. This is my chance to finally give my life meaning. To prove myself useful to Pa and the family. Something tells me he’s always sensed my emptiness, preferring Giovanni’s fiery passion and determination.
But I’m going to succeed. I’m going to take everything Giovanni had and make it mine.
Because it’s what I do. It’s the only way I know to live.
Giovanni’s dead, but I’m still here. I can be him for the both of us.
The crash is inevitable. One second, I’m pumped with adrenaline and a racing heartbeat, an unstoppable fucking king ruling over Sin City. In another quick moment, I’m coming down. I’m chasing a fading high as reality smacks into me, and the numb emptiness returns.
I wander the casino. I cross over onto the resort side. My phone vibrates with calls and messages from the crew. Probably to update me on today’s progress, but I don’t answer. I ride the private elevator up to the penthouse floor.
Even though the high’s wearing off, my mind’s still a fog. I can’t make sense of what I’m doing and why. But my legs already know. They take me to Giovanni’s old penthouse. Since I arrived in Vegas a few days ago, I’ve been sleeping in a different penthouse on the floor.
A dark, lusty tone washes over me, dimming the hall and everything around me. I slide the key in the door and wait as it unlocks and then drifts open.
