by Nova Rain
“What if I, uh…” I falter. “What if I don’t want to?”
“There’s no room for women in my world,” he states, his voice picking up more volume.
“Really?” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of world is that?”
“You don’t want to know,” he retorts, leaning his elbows on the counter. His refusal adds to my frustration. This guy has just waltzed in, ignored me and shot me down for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, and he still won’t tell me why. I stay silent, and go over to the door. I bend down and lock it, I don’t need any intrusions.
“I heard you out,” I declare, returning to the bar. “Now, it’s time for you to hear me out.”
“Michelle…”
“Don’t!” I groan, holding my index finger out in front of me as I turn around to face him. “You really are a puzzle to me, you know that? You’ve been coming here all this time, you keep to yourself, and you barely talk to me. I thought to myself: ‘Okay, he’s not the talkative type. I should respect that.’ Then, out of the blue, you beat the living crap out of two guys who tried to rob me. Why? I mean, you could have just…”
“Sat on my ass and done nothing?” he completes my sentence, slamming the beer bottle down on the counter. “No, no, that’s where you’re wrong!” He continues, furrowing his brow. “You see, I know those guys. I know what they’re capable of doing. You’d have given them the money and they’d have shot you anyway. And what is this crap about talking to you? I mind my own business; I let you do your job. Why do I have to talk to you? Is there a rule in this bar about talking to you?”
“I’m just saying it would have been nice,” I tell him, my voice but a whisper. I tear my gaze away from his, unable even to look at him anymore. I turn left and head to the kitchen, biting my lower lip. His outburst has just destroyed every shred of hope I had of having that one night with him. I’m not sure what hurts the most. Is it the second rejection, or the fact that he still clings to his secrets? Either way, being in the same room with him is too much for me to handle. I lean against the wall beside the stove, pressing my wrist to my mouth, tears welling up in my eyes. I want to scream at him, tell him I never want to see his face again. Nobody, not even Joe, can lead me on like this. Still, I don’t have the courage to part my lips. I close my eyes while a tear streams down my cheek. But, as emotion storms through me, I sense a tight grip on my hips. In a mere moment, Joe spins me around, and then leans in towards me.
“I can’t believe I made a woman like you cry,” he whispers, his face warping with regret.
“Why? What’s so special about me?” I ask, tilting my head back to look up at him.
“Class,” he’s quick to reply, the greenness in his eyes dimming. Our noses brush one another as he tips my chin up. Wiping a tear off with his thumb, he lowers his lips to mine. Part of me wants to shove him back and kick him out. Still, a bigger part of me loves his tentative touch. In a matter of seconds, he’s revived my dream of kissing him again. He pushes some tendrils of my hair back from my face, trailing his fingers across my jawline. Joe moves them down my neck as I curve my arms around his waist. To my disbelief, the demanding man who kissed me with vigor just hours earlier is gone. There’s no eagerness in his moves. He’s taking his time, caressing my skin and my mouth. If his first kiss was sweet, his second is filled with more warmth and care than I ever dared to imagine. I feel the tip of his tongue brushing my upper lip for a brief moment. Easing his forehead onto mine, he traces his fingers across my neck, before pecking one last kiss on my lips.
“When’s your next day off?” Joe inquires, his warm breath tickling my chin.
“Monday,” I breathe, struggling to focus my blurry gaze. “The bar’s always closed on Mondays.”
“Dinner. Eight o’clock. Your place. One date,” he emphasizes, his lips half an inch away from mine. “After that, I don’t come back here. Ever. And you forget about me. Are we clear?”
“Okay,” I whisper with a nod. “I’ll text you my address.”
“The keys,” he requests, holding his hand out, palm upward. I pull the keys out of the pocket of my apron and hand them over to him. Joe flashes me a soft smile, stepping backwards. My heart is still racing in my chest when he strides out of the kitchen. And that single word he said to me is still echoing in my brain. “Class.” It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, but it felt differently coming from him. He doesn’t say much, let alone compliment me. Anyway, he didn’t have to say it. Last night, he kissed me back. Tonight, he instigated our kiss. He likes me. He may not admit it, but he likes me, and I’m going to take full advantage of that.
Chapter Ten
Joe
The moment the familiar heat of the city hits me in the face, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Once more, Michelle has tested my patience and my limits alike. Of course, it crossed my mind to lay her down on the floor and go wild on her. You’d have to be gay or blind not to think that. It would also help me get her off my back. That girl won’t let up, no matter what I say to her. But, fucking her in the kitchen of an empty bar would just contradict what I said. She’s got class and finesse, and then I would treat her like a common whore? No. Michelle has to be treated right. I can’t offer her fancy gifts like jewelry or a vacation to Jamaica, but I’m not a sex-starved dick who’d use her like a sex toy. I can respect her, and that’s what I did.
The first thing that comes to mind that night is the incident in North Haven. No surprises there. I was lucky to get out of that in one piece. I can’t wait to find where Decker’s holed up, but with Eric ordering me to stand down, my hands are tied. For once, that joke of a Don is right. Going after one of Maltese’s men would equal war between the two families. I don’t know if we’re ready for it or not, but that won’t make any difference once we’re out on the street killing each other. So, I call up Donny, wondering if I could see him and Bryan and talk about our situation with Decker. As he picks up, I realize that I will have to wait a little longer. I have to pull my phone away from my ear, because the music is just too loud. It’s Aerosmith’s “Crazy.” Since neither of those two is a fan of that legendary band, there’s no doubt in my mind that they’re at a strip club. Donny proves me right in seconds. They’re at “Red Silk,” just four blocks away.
Being part of the Santone family does have its perks. Getting taken care of in certain places where the owner knows Eric is one of them. Donny and Bryan are at the table closest to the stage. Alannah Myles’s “Black Velvet” is playing from the speakers. Red and blue spotlights are flashing and moving all over, changing to orange and green. At center stage, a sexy blonde in a red thong has bent over, her left arm around the pole as she sways her ass from side to side. Donny is staring up at her, his mouth agape while Bryan is laughing out loud, clutching his stomach. I head for their table, chuckling, my gaze settled on Donny.
“He’s got to be a virgin,” I say to Bryan, sitting beside him.
“Man…” He giggles, shaking his head in amusement. “He’s been like this since we got here.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, using a more serious tone.
“That bomb really messed him up, man,” Bryan explains, averting his gaze from Donny. “He said something like: ‘I’d better do this now that I have the chance. I could get whacked tomorrow.’ I don’t get it, Joe. I mean, we’ve been shot at before, stabbed… He’s never acted like this.”
“Maybe he got closer to death this time,” I roll my shoulders as the blonde dancer leaves the stage. “Look, I’m sorry I told Eric about your plan.”
“It’s alright,” he assures me. “I was about to tell him anyway. But that stuff about his “friends up in North Haven”? I don’t buy it. He’s hiding something. You were right. We can just take the cash and leave the safety deposit boxes.”
“We have to put that aside for now,” I say, speaking my mind as Bryan reaches over towards Donny. Pulling him closer, he yells in his ear:
“Have you had enough yet?”
“Did you see those knockers?” Donny squints, his lips curling into a devilish smile.
“Awesome,” I groan, scratching my jaw. “Someone’s out to get us, and all you can think of is T&A. Stop thinking with your dick for a moment, will you?”
“Hey, Joe!” Donny cheers, his eyes widening with recognition. “When did you get here?”
“Right before that blonde took her thong off,” I mutter, scooting my chair nearer his. “How are you holding up?”
“I can’t forget last night,” he replies, gulping down his drink. “Why won’t Eric let us go find that son of a bitch? We can make it look like an accident; he knows that.”
I open my mouth, wanting to tell him off. He may have a point, but doing something against Eric’s wishes will only lead to disaster. Just then, though, I notice someone out of the corner of my eye. A skinny figure is at a table to the right. He’s holding up singles, and tries to slip them into a stripper’s panties. Those dark roots on that bleached hair make my blood boil in my veins. In a split second, I focus on him and him alone. Sean Decker is less than twenty feet away, and I have no idea how to handle this situation.
“Three o’clock,” I grumble, leaning over Bryan’s shoulder.
“Shit,” he hums, looking in that direction. “How do you want to play this?”
“Keep out of it,” I urge, clutching the table cloth. “That little fuck is mine.”
Rising up to my feet, I don’t let Decker out of my sight. Another guy is at his table, sitting across from him, his back turned to me. Even a dozen of his buddies wouldn’t stop me from going over to him. I clench my fists when our gazes meet across the hall. Decker’s eyes broaden with terror. His smile is wiped off his face. Jumping from his seat, he spins around, his feet getting tangled up in the table leg. He manages to free himself, before I close the distance between us. That prick starts to sprint across the club, looking up at me over his shoulder. Bumping into a waitress, he knocks a tray off her hands as he knocks her down. I jump over her, watching him approach the door. He leaps onto the door, bumping his head against it, but it proves to be too heavy for him. It doesn’t slide forward more than two or three inches. I lunge onto him, gritting my teeth. The door flies open, hitting the wall behind it. Decker’s body drops to the ground with a thump. The side of his forehead slams against the pavement, drawing the attention of Duncan and Gabriel, the bouncers at the entrance.
“Joe: what the fuck?!” Duncan yells, bending down over me.
“Mind your business, boys,” I urge, getting up off my knees. Gripping Decker by the collar of his shirt, I drag him across the ground and turn around the corner of the entrance. I stride along the catwalk, passing by parked cars, my blood pounding in my temples. But then, the sound I catch makes the skin on my face tingle with fear: Two guns cocking, almost at the same time. I whirl my head right, and spot a black SUV across the street. The passenger and the rear window are down. The light from the lamppost further up the street reveals two barrels, pointing straight at me. Releasing Decker, I fall to my knees, and I hear the crackling sound of bullets shattering the stillness of the night. Slugs get lodged into the side of the red Honda beside me. Two bullets shred the front and the rear tires, while others break through each and every window. Pebbles and shards of glass explode into the car and over the sidewalk. Right after the hail of fire stops, I hear the sound of a door slamming shut. Glancing behind me, I realize that Decker’s disappeared.
“Son of a bitch!” I cry out, slamming my fist into the driver’s door, my breath coming out in gasps. I scoot across the sidewalk and lean back against the wall, bringing my knees to my chest as Donny and Bryan jog towards me.
“Man, what the fuck happened out here?” Bryan wonders, slowing his strides.
“His crew saved his ass,” I grumble. “Look at all that shit,” I go on, pointing down at the broken glass next to me. “The moment I walked outside, all fucking hell broke loose.”
“Okay, wait a minute,” Donny murmurs, gazing out across the street. “Decker’s crew is waiting for him in the car while he’s partying in a strip joint? Why weren’t they inside with him?”
“Because those were their orders,” I reply as Bryan helps me up. “Maltese doesn’t want anything bad to happen to his boy.”
“Kids, we need to get moving,” Bryan advises. “The cops are going to be here any minute.”
I nod my assent, understanding his point. Frustration settles in like a rain cloud. I had the bastard, and he just slipped away. I couldn’t do much, other than protect myself from the bullets. Still, now I have a bigger problem, one that’s a lot more important than losing Decker. Eric will find out; it’s just a matter of time. He won’t appreciate my little stunt; especially after ordering me to stand down. I need to come up with a good explanation, or else I’ll have to face the consequences for what just happened.
Chapter Eleven
Joe
I spend Sunday in my apartment, waiting for the inevitable. There’s a standard procedure for guys that defy the boss. They come for you. Someone – usually a friend or two – knocks on your door, wearing a big smile. No strangers are involved. Your killers are supposed to make you feel comfortable first, so that you’ll go with them without asking any questions. Once they take you where they want you to be, you get capped in the face. I thought that part was weird at first. Why don’t they shoot people in the heart? It’s just as effective, right? Yes, but there’s a deeper meaning in executing someone with a bullet to the head. It’s payback for disrespecting the boss. Your folks can’t give you an open casket funeral. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been loyal to the family for ten, twenty, or fifty years. Disobeying a Don is a death sentence.
Much to my relief, though, no one bothers me. My initial thought is that Eric doesn’t know about the shooting outside the strip club; but when I go online, I get a change of heart. Reports of it are all over the internet, along with pictures of the bullet holes on the mangled Honda. No names are being mentioned, which is good but Eric doesn’t get his information from blogs or mainstream media. He’s got people for that, and those people had to have told him who had been targeted and why. I’m positive he knows every single detail; but even so, he doesn’t call or text me. Could this be his way of approving what I did? Is it possible for him to understand why I hunted down Decker? I don’t have a clue. The next two or three days will tell, but for now, he lets me off the hook.
A sense of confusion strikes me on Monday. I’m not sure how to handle Michelle. I’m torn between the possibility of dating a decent girl for a change, and dragging her into a world that will disgust her and put her in harm’s way. My indecision doesn’t last more than a few minutes, however. So far, I think I’ve done the right thing. I’ve kept her in the dark, although she can drive a guy crazy with her questions. The less she knows about things, the better. I have to do the same from here on out. Posh girls like her shouldn’t worry about getting shot or blown up. They belong in a place in the suburbs, with kids, a dog, and a good husband. I would consider dating her if things were just a little quieter. Nah, who am I kidding? It’s never quiet in my world. It may seem so sometimes, but it’s not long before everything goes to hell, just like it’s done these past few days.
A couple of minutes before eight o’clock, I find myself on her doorstep, with a bowl of ice cream in my grasp and a small smile on my face. Michelle answers her door, but when she does, I struggle to keep myself from laughing. She’s not dressed up. In fact, she’s not dressed at all. She’s wearing a bathrobe, with her hair wrapped up in a white towel. Michelle doesn’t even say “hi,” Instead, she yanks her door open, turns around, and heads off to her bedroom.
“Not yet! Not yet!” She yells, jogging across her living room.
“Women…” I sigh, stepping inside. The far wall is lined with pictures of her and two other women. I recognize the doctor who saved Donny’s skin back in North Haven, and a beautiful blonde I
’ve never met. They seem to be tight. Michelle is between them in three pictures, with the other two kissing her on the cheek.
I sweep the place, getting more disappointed by the second. This will be the first and last time I’ll ever be in here. After tonight, we’ll have to go our separate ways.
Damn it, Joe. Stop thinking like that and have some fun.
Yeah; sure. How am I supposed to do that? It’s like giving someone the best ice cream he’s ever tasted, and telling him he can’t have it again. He’s been having vanilla all his life, and now here is chocolate, banana and strawberry with a caramel sauce topping. Just my luck… The finest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, the sexiest temptation I’ve ever resisted can’t be with me.
“So, what are we having?” I ask, raising my tone. Michelle doesn’t bother answering. I shove the ice cream into the freezer, trying hard to get rid of that nasty thought. But, when I straighten myself up, something catches my attention: Two feet in black, high heels and in black nylons are on my right. My jaw drops to the floor as I run my gaze up. Michelle is wearing stockings, a matching garter belt, and a sexy smile that sends shivers down my spine. No bra. No panties. Her wet hair is flowing all the way down to her breasts, covering her nipples. The scent of lavender and coconut oil is lacing the air, making my cock twitch in my pants. Lifting her left arm, she puts her hand on my chest and pushes me back against the fridge. She leans in, her smile staying on.
“Each other,” she whispers, gliding her fingers up my body.
“Someone’s been very naughty,” I tell her in a raspy voice, tilting my head down.
“Oh, yeah?” Michelle lets out yet another whisper. “Make me pay for it.”
