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I spot Noah speaking with Meg by the bar, so I head on over.
Lemon’s sister is the lead choreographer down here, in addition to picking up a plethora of menial tasks.
Noah and I have had more than our fair share of run-ins with the mob boss that owns this place. But we’re not here because we have a bone to pick with Jimmy Canelli.
We’re here because we have a bone to pick with our old buddy, Jed Silver.
And as much as I want to sound facetious, Jed and I really were good friends once upon a time.
“Judge Baxter,” Meg says as I come upon them. “My sister shared the big news in the family group chat. Congrats. Want me to rustle up a couple of naked hussies for you so you can take a picture and end that nomination nonsense?”
“Cute,” I tell her. “I’m here to see Jed. But now that you mention it, this may not be a good look. I should probably refrain from showing my face around here again.”
“You’ll be missed around these parts,” she says. “I haven’t seen Jed in a few hours, but he could be in the back. I’ll go check for you.”
She takes off toward the illegal casino this place houses and I step in close to Noah.
“We can’t make him feel threatened.”
“I agree,” he says. “That lengthy prison stay he just bounced from has him running around feral. If we spook him, who knows what could happen. We should keep things civil. But we need to firmly state that he’s to steer clear of Rizzo’s—at least until Lot and Carlotta can off the place.”
“In other words, a threat.”
“Exactly.”
My phone chirps and I glance down to see more steamy suggestions that make me sigh.
“Is it Lot?” Noah asks, looking down at the screen.
“It’s Miranda. She’s been texting me baby-making positions all day long. They’re cartoon sketches, but it doesn’t make them any less disconcerting, seeing that they’re coming from my mother-in-law.”
Noah ducks toward my phone once again and taps his finger on the second picture.
“That’s the one Lot and I used. I’d steer clear of it if I were you. Lot might have a flashback and come breaking down my door, looking for more.”
“If it hasn’t happened yet, she must not be missing it.”
Noah chuckles, no smile. “I have it on good authority that you’re on a timer, Baxter.”
I’m about to entertain him by prodding for details—not that I’d believe his delusions—when I spot the very reason we’re here in the club to begin with.
“Jed,” I call out as he’s about to whiz right by us and he nearly knocks into a waitress wearing nothing but pasties and a G-string.
He stops short before heading this way. His suit is slightly askew, his hair is puffed and out of form, and his face is red and winded.
I can take a guess at what’s been keeping him busy in the back.
“Gentlemen,” he says, tugging at his lapels in an effort to forcefully compose himself. “Enjoying yourselves?”
“We’re not here to enjoy ourselves,” Noah tells him, and Jed rumbles with a laugh.
“Neither of you ever did know how to have a good time.” Jed sheds his signature smarmy grin. “But that’s not my problem. Excuse me, I’m late to a meeting.” He attempts to step past me and I stick my hand to his chest.
“Have your meeting,” I grit the words through my teeth. “Do whatever the heck you want, but steer clear of Rizzo’s. Understand?”
“And stay away from Lottie in general,” Noah adds.
Jed pushes my hand off his chest with a violent shove. “You two stay away from me. It’s a free country. And I won’t stand to be bullied by either of you.” He stalks off for the back like a bullet.
