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“That’s a long shot.”
“I’ll find out later today.” Nick went back to pacing.
Samson leaned forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m gonna call Frank in New York and find out what the fuck is goin’ on with this shit. You think I’m just gonna sit by and let her stay married to that bastard?”
“I don’t think you can have shit to say about it.”
“You tryin’ to tell me you think she’s happy?”
“Either way, calling Frank is a bad fuckin’ idea.” Samson threw up his hands. “Six months ago he finally went back to New York. He finally got off our ass and you’re gonna bring him back in?”
“One phone call doesn’t put him back in. Anyway, I gotta find out the truth.”
“You found out the truth. Cheryl’s living in a big fuckin’ house with her husband, Johnny Russo.”
“And you expect me to accept it—just turn my back and walk away?”
“Would be the smart thing to do.” Samson huffed out a breath. “Maybe she’s happy.”
“Ahhh, get the fuck outta here with that shit.” Nick scowled. “Happy? How she could she be happy with him? That’s like saying I like sticking my dick in a vice.”
“There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Watch me.”
“Bringing Frank into the picture again on any level is a big fuckin’ mistake.”
“I’m just gonna talk to him.” Nick shrugged. “Ask him a few questions.”
“Right, and how will that go? ‘Geez, Frank how come you let your only daughter marry a prick like Johnny Russo?’ Or did you forget before Johnny got sent up he was Frank’s number one hatchet man? A guy we don’t need sniffing around our business either.”
“All the more reason for getting him away from Cheryl.” Nick paused. “She even changed her name to Marie. It was what the waiter called her the other night and what her business partner Isabelle called her today. Maybe her changing her name has got something to do with her marrying Russo.”
“She’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble to hide in plain sight, so logic says maybe she wants to stay hidden.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.”
“Right, cause why would you wanna do anything logical when it comes to Cheryl. Even back in the day the two of you were out of control. She lights the match and you burn the whole fuckin’ house down.”
Nick retrieved two glasses from behind the bar and filled each with two fingers of scotch. He handed one to Samson, then sat in the other chair and sipped at the smokey liquor.
“I know you don’t get it and I can’t explain it, but if she was married to a decent guy maybe I could?—”
“Who the fuck are you kidding? You’d be acting the same damn way you are now.” Samson drank deep, then pierced Nickwith his ice blue eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t more about if you can’t have her no one can? As in, your ego took a hit cause she didn’t wanna fall into bed with you earlier.”
Nick rolled the tumbler in his palms. Sure, that might be part of it. He kinda did expect her to be so happy to see him she’d welcome him in. Accept his offer to have a drink and catch up. Probably fuckin’ unrealistic but he hadn’t gotten to where he was by holding back and ignoring his instincts.
One thing he never expected was Cheryl being married let alone married to that moron. Which was crazy too. Of all the people why the fuck would she pick somebody like Johnny Russo? Back in New York everybody steered clear of Frank’s number one fixer, then he got hauled off to Rikers. Even Frank’s big-time lawyers couldn’t make the charges disappear. Like a lot of wise-guys, Johnny got nabbed for screwing with his taxes, not the violence he doled out on a weekly basis.
Looking back, Cheryl never did have good taste in men. When he met her she was hooked up with Jimmy Falcone, a low-level con artist, so maybe Samson was right. Nick had lived in some fuckin’ dream world for the last ten years seeing Cheryl how he wanted to see her. Now, reality slammed him in the gut, but his brain wouldn’t buy it.
Nick whipped out his phone and scrolled at the screen. “Next Monday when the club’s closed we’re gonna throw a party to celebrate our success.”
“We already celebrated the club’s anniversary two weeks ago.”
“This’ll be more private—seventy-five to a hundred of our closest friends.”
