AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Keep it down,” he hisses, making room for me on the tiny little bench seat. Room onhisside of the table, I note. “I haven’t seen you around,” he says.
That’s because I usually come on Romeo’s night these days—Fridays. Saturdays, one is liable to run into…well, Vincenzo Esposito.
“Mm,” I say.
“I haven’t seen you since before your father died. Where have you been?”
Why are people constantly asking me for my whereabouts? “Mourning, I suppose,” I say vaguely. “You know how mourning can take it out of a chap. And then trying to keep busy, make sure Sandro is happy; you know how it is. New Don, new rules.”
Vincenzo’s hand lands on my thigh. I let him run it higher as he says, “I thought you were dead. I thought he’d killed you.”
“I’m rather surprised to be alive,” I agree. “But how lovely of you to care, Vincenzo.”
“Of course I care. I was worried about you.” His eyes stare into mine. I see desperation, loneliness, desire; all those lovely little emotions that used to make him so fun to play with.
Before Romeo.
“You needn’t worry. I’m quite well, and Sandro and I are getting on famously. In fact, he’s asked me to bring you to dinner.”
His hand, which has been rubbing up and down my thigh, stills. “What?”
“Dinner. The evening meal, Vincenzo.”
The hand withdraws, the brow furrows. “Why would Don Castellani askmeto dinner?”
Is it possible Vincenzo’s head is notquiteas thick as his divine arms? I put my hand on those arms now, making sure we keep a physical connection. It’s easier to get the little head talking over the big head that way, or so I’ve found with my various conquests. “Well, because he wants to meet my...” I don’t know how to finish, so I just trail off suggestively.
But Vincenzo’s eyes go wide with panic. “I told you—never tellanyone—“
“I haven’t, I haven’t,” I assure him quickly, but he’s already pushing me out of the booth. He just about falls out himself and hurries away.
A stupid mistake on my part. I forgot how absolutely terrified he is of anyone finding out about his preferences. But my mind is still half on the treat Ididget tonight: my Romeo.
But Sandro has given me my orders.
I catch up with Vincenzo in the middle of the room. “Wait a minute, will you?” I grab his arm, but he’s too far gone in his personal terror, and strikes out instinctively. I duck it with ease, but then I have a decision to make.
Fights at The Cellar are not unheard of, but theyarestrongly discouraged. I like it here, and I’m new enough that I might find myself asked to leave the premises if I get involved in anything. So I take a step back and put up my hands in surrender.
But Vincenzo is not the type of man to calm down so quickly. He moves to attack again, and I have to block the punch. And then, I’m afraid, irritation gets the better of me. I jab my fist straight into his solar plexus and watch him collapse to the ground, wheezing.
Normally a fight like this would be foreplay, but from the way the whole bar is staring at me, I suspect it doesn’t read that way to casual onlookers. “A slight disagreement,” I say with a smile.
The bouncers have appeared. They don’t usually get involved with people like Vincenzo or me; they know to stay out of Family business.
“Nothing to see here,” I try, but they move forward quickly, pulling Vincenzo up off the floor.
And then they drag him away.
I watch with curiosity. Normally when someone is asked to leave a place, it’s me. But the Goth bartender beckons me over and pours me a free tequila shot. “For your trouble,” she says.
The whole place has gone silent, the eyes of everyone in the room burning into me. So I saunter to the bar and throw down the drink as quickly as I can.
“You’re very welcome,” I say loudly, smacking the shot glass back down.
And just like that, the mumbles start up again, and everyone goes back to what they were doing before Vincenzo Esposito tried to punch me in the face.
“We’ve had some troubles with him,” the Goth confides. This is the most she’s spoken to me in my entire time of attending this place.
