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FUBAR.
I pull myself out of the chair and reach into my pocket for my phone, but it’s empty. Dammit, where the hell did I leave it? Is it still at the hospital?
Nico presses his fingertips together and looks up at me. “I feel like you have more to say.”
I sigh and stuff my hands into my pockets. “I’m really trying here, Nico. I want to help you nail these assholes.”
“I know. And you will when the time comes.”
“Yeah, but will it be enough? Will it ever really be enough to prove that I can handle being more than just a fucking muscle to be flexed when shit goes bad?” I rake a hand through my hair. “I want this thing with Sloane to work out, and it can’t if all I do is crack skulls.”
“And Thanksgiving…”
“It was a mistake. A major fuck-up that’ll never happen again. But you’re the boss of this family, Nico. People trust you. They look up to you. They respect you.”
“Because I don’t pull dumbass stunts that cause major problems for the family.”
I let out a deep sigh. “I know! Okay? You’re fucking perfect! But I’m your best friend, and you know I’ve always had your back. I need to know you have mine, too.”
“If I didn’t, you and your father would be dead right now.”
“I need a chance to prove myself, Nico. A real chance, not some bullshit peon job.”
“If you’re talking about the construction job, you ungrateful fuck—”
“The job is fine. It saved my ass. But nobody takes it seriously.”
“I sure as hell do. We’re gonna make a shit ton of cash once that strip mall is finished.”
“I want my own place.” Christ, I don’t even know where those words came from. I mean, yeah, I want my own thing, but am I ready for it? It’s a big move, and I can’t screw it up. That’ll just confirm what everyone already thinks about me, what I’m so desperate to change.
Is it because I could never get my own father’s approval? Is that why I want it so badly from everyone else? Jesus, the fucking baggage I have to drag around is damn heavy. Like, concrete boots sinking a dead body to the bottom of the Hudson River mafia-style heavy.
Nico cocks an eyebrow. “What makes you think you deserve it?”
I lean over the desk, stabbing the desk with my index finger. “Because I’ve devoted my life to you, dickhead. I’ve put my ass on the line plenty for you. And I know what it takes to make it a success. You taught me a lot, Nico. Let me use what you gave me.”
He’s quiet for a second. At least he didn’t shut me down right away. I furrow my brows. It looks like he might actually be considering my ask. Who the fuck knew he’d ever entertain putting me in charge of my own club? Shit, I’d have asked sooner if that was the case. I’m not a hardhat kind of guy. I use hammers for smashing jaws, not fixing nail pops. And table saws? Great tools, but not so much for cutting wood.
But that’s all part of my very dark and very fucking demented past. If Nico gives me my own place, I’ll finally be on my way up the ladder, out of the quicksand that can swallow me whole if I let down my guard.
If I have any shot to make things work with Sloane, it’s what I need.
One shot.
And I can’t mess it up because I know there won’t be another one.
“I don’t know if you’re ready,” he says in a low voice.
“Bullshit! You know I am!” Panic consumes me. What the hell is it going to take to convince him? If Nico brings in someone else to run his new nightclub, I’m fucked. I’ll never get out of that dead-end construction job. How the hell is anyone going to respect me when I can’t even respect myself? How can I expect Sloane to respect me?
“You still haven’t proven you can take on that responsibility. The way you’re reacting now proves my point. I respect that you want to move up in the organization, but—”
“Why are you trying to hold me back?” My voice drops. “Why won’t you let me show you what I can do for the family?”
“Because even though you’re the most loyal person I know, the downside of that attribute is that you’re the most loyal person I know. And everything with your dad throws a wrench in things. I don’t trust that you’re going to do the right thing for the family, Max. Not that you wouldn’t want to. I just think there are too many other things clouding your judgment because you’re loyal to the people you care about first. I don’t think you can separate yourself from the business end. And to be successful, you need to table all of your personal shit and focus on the task at hand. You have to be ruthless and cold and calculating. Business is never personal, Max. And I don’t think you are capable of separating the two.”
“I’ve done so much for you! How the hell can you say I can’t handle it?”
