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“You sound convincing but we’re not buying it.” Mamba cocked his head. “Since the first time we met over at Valley View fight club you’ve been this in control, hard-ass motherfucker. Now here you are pounding shots of Jack and getting high. I may not be the smartest guy here, but I can smell bullshit and pick out a guy who’s totally fucked up over a woman.”
“Agreed,” the other three bikers said in unison.
Silence fell between them. Even through the shots of Jack and the cloud of weed Nick digested Mamba’s words.
“On a totally unrelated note.” Cobra led them into another subject. “Boa tracked down the Desert Rats to a shack way out in the desert.”
“Nobody tracks deadbeat cocksuckers better than Boa,” Joker said. “The man’s tracking skills are mad crazy.”
“I was thinking we should pay them a not so friendly visit.” Cobra smirked. “Word is they’re cooking meth out there. Some guy from New York is backing them with big bucks, and I’m thinking it’s Russo who set them up.”
Frank would never sanction Johnny’s side hustle. He was into more regulated moneymakers that he totally controlled. Like extortion, blackmail, hijacking, and other forms of mayhem, but dipping into a meth lab wasn’t one of them. Way too many variables and ways for shit to go sideways.
Cobra shot a look to Nick. “Might do you good to work off some of this anxiety.”
“Anxiety?”
Rattler jerked his chin to the TV over the bar. “Don’t blame our prez, one of the prospects puts on Dr. Phil in the afternoon.”
“Too fuckin’ funny, but I think what I’m working up to is a motherfuckin’ stompin.’”
“Spoken like a true Brooklyn thug.”
“We got two choices,” Joker said. “Ride out there before sunrise, and catch them with their dicks out. Or, surprise them at night, probably also with their dicks out. Either way, we get the jump on them, then lean on them for the information about who trashed your club.”
Rattler made eye contact with all of them. “I don’t think any of us is up for a ride out to the desert tonight.” He jerked his chin at the almost empty bottle of Jack. “So, I say we keep this party goin’ and hit them up tomorrow.”
“Iknow it doesn’t seem like it now, but things will work out.” Izzy’s calm reassurance usually worked but not today.
Cheryl sat at her desk for a long time after Nick left. Of course, first she had to answer Portia’s questions as to who the man was who looked so familiar and so mad. She brushed off her questions because when she finally told Portia she wanted it to be with Nick there too. In that way they could both answer any questions she might have even if it put Cheryl in a bad light. The last thing she wanted was for Portia to think any of Cheryl's bad decisions were her fault.
“I don’t know.” Cheryl cradled her head in her hands. “He was so mad and I don’t blame him. I tried to explain my reasoning, but it’s hard to explain old fears. Anxieties I suffered years ago don’t apply now, but that doesn’t make them any less real.” Cheryl expelled a deep sigh. “We’ve both changed. I’m so much stronger than I was ten years ago. I would’ve handled it all differently now, but?—”
“What did Portia say when she met him?” Izzy asked.
“It was only a minute. She didn’t know who he was, and then he left so quickly I just told her he was a business acquaintance and to go upstairs and do her homework.”
“It’s a shock for him and his first reaction was anger, but I’m sure he’ll come around, at least for Portia’s sake.”
“I have no doubts he’ll be there for Portia, but as far as him and I . . .” She drew in a shuddering breath.
Izzy reached across the desk and rested her hand on Cheryl’s. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.”
Cheryl bit her bottom lip to keep the tears at bay. “I stopped wishing for perfect a long time ago, but seeing Nick again and having a glimmer of hope only to have it snatched away again is . . . devastating. A phony marriage I could live with but losing the only real thing in my life twice hurts—bad.”
“You’re the strongest woman I know and you will figure this all out.” Izzy squeezed her hand.
Cheryl sat for a few long minutes digesting Izzy’s words. Maybe she couldn’t change things with Nick, but she didn’t have to stay in this house one minute longer, and there would be no way she’d stay in a loveless marriage either.
“You’re right, I am strong.” Cheryl sprang from the chair. “I’m tired of letting life happen to me, from now on I’m making the rules and it’s going to start with us getting out of here.”
Izzy cocked her head. “Us?”
Cheryl dashed around the desk. “You, me, and Portia. Pack a small bag and take Portia with you in your car to the Bellagio. I’ll get Portia’s stuff together and meet you there.” Izzy checked the time on her phone. “What about Johnny? Are you going to tell him?”
“The last time I mentioned divorce he got—I want both of you gone, just in case he comes home. That way I’ll know you’re both safe.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Izzy insisted. “What if?—”
