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“No. I’m enjoying the river of denial I’m floating on right now.”
“Beware of those crocodiles on that river. Those are very real.”
“Warning heeded.”
She sighed. “Gotta get this skirt to Danny.” She lifted the pink silk poodle skirt from her legs. “She’s opening tonight.” She hopped from the barstool and set her arm around my neck, pulling our heads together. “We’ll be all right.”
It was something we started saying to each other after we first met. It was four words of light, even when things looked the darkest for us.
“We’ll be all right,” I repeated.
The night grew busier, and Georgia and I divided and conquered. She mostly helped with last-minute costume issues. I kept everyone on time.
I was watching the end of the ’60s routine when someone tapped me on my shoulder.
One of the girls. “Paul is in the bathroom and says she can’t come out.”
“Something wrong?”
“Cramps.”
Cramps covered a lot of ground in a female-dominated crew. Paul—Paulina—had been calling in sick, and when she showed up, she hid in the bathroom. I wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but I made a mental note to talk to her about it. Vinny was decent, but he wasn’t a saint. He’d cut her loose if he felt she wasn’t earning. Like the rest of us, she had responsibilities to take care of at home.
I had to fill her spot, though. She was in the 2000s crew. I looked around the room and got either a shake of the head—no—or eye avoidance.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” I knew all the routines, like an understudy.
The ’60s crew rushed off the stage while the ’70s crew discussed last-minute things before they went on. There was usually about a ten-minute intermission between sets.
Vinny barged into the back and stopped, hands on his hips, his eyes searching. They landed on me, and he bulldozed his way over.
“What did you do?” he hissed at me.
“We both know I’ve done a lot. Be more specific.”
“I’m in no mood for your sharp tongue, Leo. You asked about Tullio Bigatti, and guess who shows up in my lowly club? The devil himself.”
I rushed to the door and peeked out. My eyes landed on Gio moving through the crowd with a cold beer in his hand. He was wearing a tight gray T-shirt and dark jeans. Which was not the norm. Those men mostly wore custom-made suits. He was trying to blend.
His hair was light, and so were his eyes, but his skin was tan. He had sharp features. He did have those unsteady eyes, no doubt, but he was seriously good looking. Just like Big.
It would be such a disappointment if his name didn’t live up to what he was packing in his pants. If the steel pipe pressing against me the night before was anything to go by, though, the name was not wasted on him.
Maybe it would be the only pleasure in this arrangement with him.
Since I found out he hadn’t ordered my brother to be hurt, that shackle was off. I could lust after him without feeling guilty.
Rocky ran into Gio on his way back to the table, but he barely looked at her, even though she held her hand out and apologized. It was like she was something he had to keep from falling off a shelf, and then he just moved on.
I was shocked he didn’t notice her. She mostly worked the bar, because she said she couldn’t dance or sing, and she was stunning. It was hard not to notice her.
My eyes followed Gio back to his table, and my heart started to skip beats. Big sat there, nursing what looked like a water, his eyes constantly taking in the room. He was dressed similarly to Gio. Black T-shirt, dark jeans, and boots. He wore a ball cap on his head turned backward.
If I had to guess his age…late thirties or early forties. So fucking young to run such a bloody empire.
“There he is.” Vinny pointed over my shoulder, his gold-link bracelet catching the light and jingling in my ear. “What’s he doing here, Leo? Cause I don’t like his type of visitor in my place. It usually means trouble.”
“My guess…he heard you had hidden talent and he’s scouting.”
