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I eye Killian over. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I’m a young man like you. I don’t have many prospects in this city. And neither do you. Your uncle has a staunch hold over all the Italians in New York. He owns most of the ports and is in charge of a lot.” He lowers his voice. “Drugs, guns, you name it. But isn’t that supposed to be your legacy? I’m offering that we put together any influence the two of us have and take down your uncle. You’ll be in control of this city, and in turn, you’ll be able to help me take down O’Connell, and I’ll be in control of the Irish. And boom.” He claps his hands together. “A beautiful partnership is born. What do you say?”
“I say I have a date in the showers.”
Killian looks over in Kellie’s direction and frowns. “Looks like your date has left.”
I glance over. “Shit.” Kellie’s flirting with Big John now. “Thanks. You made me lose out on a good shower fuck.”
“I’m sure you don’t have any issues with women. Antonio.” He pauses. “I can call you Antonio, yes?”
“Yes. I’m not worthy of my family name yet.”
“… Ok. Listen, Antonio, not many opportunities are going to come your way. Not when your uncle is so powerful. But I’m offering you an opportunity. Let’s team up and take your uncle down. Let’s restore the power that rightfully belongs to you.”
Killian does talk a good talk, but can he walk the walk. Only time will tell, I guess. Even though I’ve built a good reputation as a fighter at the underground fighting ring, it isn’t enough to get my father’s old men to respect me as their leader. Not when Franco has been leading them for the past eleven years, ever since I was twelve. My father died, and I was too young to take over at the time, so Franco did. And when I turned eighteen, he tried to have me killed. If it weren’t for my sister, Francesca, coming to save me, I’d have died.
After that, I left, and I haven’t seen any of my family in years. My three older sisters sometimes call, but even that’s risky. The rest of my family—the ones who still live with Franco—I haven’t seen or heard from since I was eighteen.
“Ok,” I finally say. “What have I got to lose? I’ve already lost everything. If you’re promising to help me take down Franco, then I say, let’s do it. I’m ready for that bastard to die.”
Killian smiles widely as he eagerly shakes my hand. “Great. Looking forward to it. Here’s my number.” He hands me a card. What kind of person carries business cards anymore? “You can call me anytime. Let’s meet up soon and discuss more.”
“Yeah, I’ll call.”
Killian claps me on the back and leaves the locker room. I slip his card into my gym bag before heading into the shower. Kelli isn’t even in the locker room anymore, so no chance of getting a blowjob to help me de-stress.
Once I’m done, I slip back into my normal clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. I’m not one of those Mafia men who wear suits all the time, but that’s more a matter of convenience. I live in the shittier part of New York City, and wearing a suit everywhere would just draw attention to myself. I can’t wait for the day I take Franco down and assume my position as leader of the Moretti business. Once that happens, I’ll wear a suit every damn day.
My hand roams inside my bag, searching for the most important thing to me in this world. When my fingers brush against the cool metal, I relax a bit. It’s risky bringing something of such great importance to a shithole like this, but I don’t go anywhere without it.
I pull it out of the bag and slip it around my neck. My father’s family pendant. The one I was given the day he died. An engraving of a wolf is on it, surrounded by the color red. It’s the symbol of my father’s power. It’s the one thing Franco could never get from me, no matter how much he wanted it for himself.
This pendant is a reminder of why I fight every week in shitholes like this; I have to be there for my family. I have to take Franco down someday. I’ve waited five years since I was exiled after he tried to kill me, and I don’t want to wait another five more.
I’m ready to end this once and for all. I’m wiser. I’m stronger. And most importantly, I have a fire within me that’s burning to get out.
I give Stinky Sam a nod as I walk by him. He’s bandaging up his nose, though I’m not sure how well that’s going for him. His pained groans don’t sound good.
Waiting outside the locker room is Johnny, my so-called manager. Essentially, he collects the money I won for my fight and gives it to me, though I know he skims some from the top. Johnny is the epitome of weasel—small, bug eyes, stringy hair. Despite his creepy appearance, he’s remained by my side since I started fighting when I was eighteen with nowhere else to go. “Here, Tony.” He hands me a wad of dollar bills that are stained with … something.
“What’s this?” I point to the stain.
“Just some beer.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.” He shoves the bills into my hands. Upon closer inspection, it’s obvious the stain isn’t beer. It looks more like blood. Well, this is a fighting ring after all …
I sigh and start counting the money. “It’s a few hundred short.”
He smiles sneakily, not quite looking at me. “You know I need my share.”
“Fine.” I don’t bother putting up a fight. I already expended most of my energy taking down Stinky Sam earlier. “But we agreed on one percent. That looked more like five.” I shove the money into my gym bag.
“Semantics, Tony. Listen, I’ve got you lined up to take on Big John next week. Could bring us in a ton of money.” He rubs his hands together like an old cartoon villain.
“Big John is huge. There’s a reason I’ve never fought him before.”
“So? That’ll make it even sweeter when you win. David versus Goliath. This shit just writes itself.”
I step out of the way as a man and woman slam into the wall next to me, making out like they’re trying to suck each other’s faces off. “Fine. I’ll fight him. But you only get one percent of my earnings.”
