“Hello?” I get after the fourth ring, the tone full of caution.
“Billy.” I breathe, finding my voice to quiver with nerves. “It’s me.”
“Zane?” he barely manages, whispering my name down the line. I hear the noise around him shift before quietening. “What the fuck, man? Where the hell are you?”
“I can’t tell you,” I say, more because I’m so ashamed of my current lifestyle choices. “I fucked up. Can we meet?”
“Er, yeah, of course,” he states, no thought required. “I can get away now, name a place.”
“Hudson diner. In thirty minutes?”
“Sure,” he replies. “But make it twenty.”
The line goes dead, and I sit completely still for a moment. I can’t believe he even agreed to meet with me after running out on being his partner down at the police department. I should count myself lucky that he’s decided to hear me out because I am sure afterward, he’ll be cursing me until he’s blue in the face.
I guess I can only go and find out.
***
“You look like shit,” Billy’s voice breaks my reverie as I stare into my coffee.
“So I keep being told,” I say, grinning lightly as I look up at him. “Ordered our usual,” I tell him, offering a peace offering.
Having worked with Billy by my side as we worked our way up in the ranks at the Brooklyn Police Department, we’ve seen each other go through everything. We’ve seen the darkest sides of one another, but we’ve always recovered in this very booth, eating the same meal. Call it whatever you want, but it was the best therapy we had.
“You really think maple bacon and pancakes are going to make up for it?”
“I asked them to make your favorite whiskey tea,” I say, shrugging as he drops down into the booth. “Guessed it wouldn’t solve everything, but it’s a start.”
“No, a start would be a fucking explanation,” he remarks, stopping to sit directly opposite me. “I know the shooting was brutal, and everything with Amelia was fucked up, but you ran, man. What was up with that?”
Just hearing him mention the shooting causes my heart to stall its rhythmic beating. For a moment, I remember back to a few short months ago when both Billy and I were treated as expendables to the goons trying to appease the Abbiati leader. I was Amelia’s hit, no one else’s, but some didn’t see it like that. We were disposable to them because I was an issue. It makes pledging to the Dio Lavoro all the more appealing – what better way to get back at them than to be a ghost knocking at their door.
“It’s called being a target.” As I speak, I sit up, leaning across the table to make the privacy of this conversation more noticeable. “You’re on his side; you must have known the bounty over my head, and if you did, you could’ve warned me.”
I watch Billy’s face fall; he sits, deliberating the facts, and he starts to shake his head, looking ashamed of himself. I knew he would know; why wouldn’t he? He works for Salvatore Abbiati as his very own mole in the local police department.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask, daring to know the extent of the betrayal.
“I assumed Amelia would ...”
“She did,” I reply, bitterly. “And to make it worse, she continued to remind me even after I broke her heart. After everything, after catching her and giving her all sorts of hopeful ideals, I threw her aside. To make matters ten times worse, the woman I broke saved me. I wouldn’t be alive without her.”
“What’s the plan then?” he asks, rhetorically. “You’re going to wait in the shadows for her homecoming?”
I snigger, sitting back to rub my jaw. It’s as I focus on Billy that I realize he looks horrified at my reaction. It makes this moment even more hilarious to know he’s pegging all the details together without much from me, but I cannot keep the words on lockdown. I goad the moment with sheer delight.
“Who said I’d be in the shadows?” I ask, cocking a brow, grinning wickedly.
“No,” he manages in disbelief.
“Oh, yeah,” I reply, almost feeling smug about my game plan. “By the time Amelia hits American soil again, I will be such a part of her life that she won’t be able to ignore me.”
“Are you a complete fucking moron?” Billy suddenly asks, anger roaring to life in his voice. “No, don’t answer that!” His throws his hands into his head, looking like he’s about to hyperventilate. “Fuck, Zane!” he bellows and then calms, remembering we’re in public. “What is going on in that head of yours? Because you’re making some seriously fucked-up decisions right now. Salvatore will shoot you at sunrise and feed you to everyone for dinner.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Yes, necessarily,” he replies, squashing my thoughts. As a dirty cop, affiliated with the Abbiatis, I should’ve known he’d fight. “You know full well who Amelia is and what she comes from yet here you are putting yourself into the lion’s den. This isn’t a spot of sparring ... they want you dead, Zane. You’re worth a small mint to them.”
“I could be worth so much more if I’m allowed to be part of the Dio Lavoro. You do it. You’re both a good cop and bad. I can be, too.”
“I didn’t break the boss’s daughter’s heart twice ...” He plays the voice of reason, but even with the amount of alarm in his voice, I don’t heed. “That means a loaded gun with bullets with your name on it. Not just one, but a whole fucking barrel of them ... fuck, I reckon all of the Abbiati men have a gun with your name on it ... each!”
“I know what I did to Amelia was shameful, but I’m giving up everything to play their fucking game. I promise you, I will have a meeting with Sal before this month is up. I know it won’t be easy, and I have every single one of those Abbiatis against me, but I will try everything in my power.”
He watches me, his jaw clenching as he contemplates.
“Okay,” Billy finally relents. “What’s my part in this?”
“You’re my eyes and ears. I need to know where they’ll be. I need to take every opportunity to make sure they notice me as an asset and not as the man who left Amelia broken hearted.”
“You’re going to attempt to recreate yourself in their eyes?” Billy asks, giving me a stern look. “Do you seriously think they’ll allow you?”
“I won’t know unless I try,” I reply, my voice dropping a few octaves with my sincerity. “I’m willing to do anything right now, and this is one of those things I have to do. I want them to see me as a willing counterpart into what they’ll do.”
“And what’s the end game?” he asks, not yet disagreeing. “I need to know what it is you’re playing for here, Zane. I can’t help you unless I know what your sole reason is.”
“Amelia.”
Her name rolls off my tongue with ease. Every syllable a sweet delight to say because now it’s not out of despair or shame. No, I’m saying her name in a new light because I’m about to throw morals aside to make sure I’m by her side. I’m willing to show her that I made two stupid decisions where our love was concerned, and I won’t do it again. I won’t allow her name or her family chase me away.
“And you think she’ll give a shit about you?”
“I’m still alive because of her ... because she still cared enough.”
I’m sticking with that statement. It’s because of her that I’m here. Everyone else might see it differently, but to me, Amelia is life. I’m a foolish man and the past several months have proven that to me in every color possible. I’ve seen my life sink and become nothing more than a morsel of what it used to be. I only come alive when I think of her. I feel absolutely everything when she enters my mind – love, adoration, shame, guilt, self-loathing, want, desire. It’s all there. Every single emotion that a desperate man could feel in the name of losing love I’ve felt. It’s all made an impression, gotten me to this point, made me want to become reckless with my life.
Billy signs, bringing me back to the moment.
“I know Gio and Carlo are taking Manuel with them to some fi
ght club in Manhattan Friday night. They’re going to watch a couple of matches, unwind or something. Why not go there? I mean, Gio’s going to be your toughest Abbiati to deal with besides Salvatore. Why not get him into the ring and show him how you can really fight?”
I remain silent, thinking about how this will play out.
“We both know you can pack a punch, Zane, so don’t look so scared. He’ll eat you up if you look like that.” He throws in a small burst of laughter. “Play it casual ... your appearance alone will grouse him but keep it friendly. Tell him what it is you want. Lay it all out on the table and tell him why you’re back in their lives.”
I nod, remaining silent as I start to weave some semblance of a decent plan.
“Zane, what are you planning?” he asks me, his face drawn. “I’ve never seen you like this, and I know for the most part it’s self-inflicted, but you’re about to play a dangerous game here. What is it you’re planning here?”
“A real chance to live,” I mutter, not letting him know any more as I start to stand. I reach into my back pocket, dragging out my wallet to drop thirty dollars onto the table, regardless that we never ate. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, buddy.”
“Yeah, you will,” Billy mentions, remaining sitting. “I plan to be at that fight club.”
Good - the bigger the audience, the better.
***
I adorn a suit for this evening. If I’ve learned one thing about those who run with Salvatore, it’s that you look smart and suave. You hold yourself like you’re fucking royalty when you know you’re not. You match your tie to the shade of suit you have on. You make sure your shoes shine so whatever bastard you take on can see their reflection in them. You give yourself a shave, either clean shave or tidy yourself up to look respectable. You style your hair. You give yourself a fearsome demeanor, and you get the job at hand done.
“What the actual fuck?” Billy asks, grabbing onto me to pull me away from the crowd and toward the bar. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You know why. You gave me a location; I promised you’d be seeing me soon.”
“I thought you were bluffing!” he exclaims, throwing his hands onto his head with panic. “Fuck, Zane, you are going to get yourself killed! I didn’t think you were serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, furrowing my brow at me. “This is my last shot before I completely run out of any solutions.”
“There are other ways.”
“Not to have my last chance with Amelia,” I state, conviction lacing my words. “She will notice me... for good or bad reasons, I don’t care. All I know is that she will see me as the man with nothing else left to lose but her love.”
“And if you’ve lost it already?” he asks, and I fucking hate him for playing devil’s advocate right now.
“At least I can say I tried,” I say, sobering up to my plan. “If I killed all my chances with her, at least, I will know from her. At least, I can say I fought my way into her life to show that I could give it a try ... ulterior motives involved or not.”
"They'll let any old cunt in it seems." I bristle at the sound of Gio’s voice but remain facing the bar, my eyes locked on Billy’s. "Ah c'mon, Maverick, we were almost brothers while you were fucking my sister ... on two occasions. Do I not get a hello?"
His question goes unanswered. Even anything, I bristle. I know how he’s treated Amelia, and I loathe him for being just like his father – an absolute cunt.
"Hey cunt, I said do I not get a hello?" he asks, placing a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. “It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough,” I ground out.
“Why are you here, Maverick? This isn’t your territory,” he comments, giving me a filthy look. “What makes you think you can walk in here and play with the big boys?”
“I want a chance,” I begin, stepping forward, squaring my shoulders and becoming an equal to Gio. “I want an opportunity to prove to you I deserve a second chance.”
“A second chance?” he asks, laughing hysterically. “A second chance at what? You’re on strike three with Amelia, so what could you possibly want a second chance at?”
“Being a part of your family,” I state, not even wavering. “I want to prove my worth to Sal. This time, not as Amelia’s lover but as a fully committed member to the Dio Lavoro.”
Gio doesn’t respond initially. Slowly, he breaks into a heavy fit of laughter, chuckling so hard he hunches over himself.
“Why shouldn’t I just finish you here and drag your dead body to my father to prove you’re a job finally completed?” he asks me, sobering up from his laughter. “What right do you have to ask me such a favor?”
“Because I know if I can prove my worth to you, I have a sliver of hope.”
“I don’t normally fight ...” Gio begins to say, his lips twitching some in the corner. “But for you, I’ll make the exception. I can’t think of anything better than pummeling your pathetic face in to show you how you will never get a chance to be one of us.”
“Don’t write me off just yet,” I reply, trying to match his demeanor. “I won’t be that easy to beat.”
“Fine ... you prove yourself in front of this entire crowd, and I’ll get you a meeting,” he bargains. “If anything, I’ll be doing this just so I can see that bitch’s face when her beloved Zane Maverick sits drinking with the real men instead of playing lap dog.”
Even my sworn enemy knows exactly why I’m doing this – Amelia. Her sick and twisted brother knows my ulterior motive, and he seemingly knows it better than I do. I shake the malicious thought that creeps over me, telling me he’ll beat me because he knows my only weakness – love. But I can’t stop now; I can’t be deterred.
After all, I could love in silent abandon, or I could do the same in deafening recklessness.
The latter is far more exhilarating.
“Let’s do this ...” I tell him, narrowing my gaze enough to challenge him. “You and me, Gio ...”
He comes toward me, trying to intimidate me, but I stand my ground, meeting his gaze entirely.
“Bare-knuckle fight,” he says, a smirk growing on his lips as his sadistic side starts to come out to play. “Nothing but man against man. You beat me, and I’ll get you a meeting.”
“And if I lose?” I ask, challenging him.
“I finally get to end your pathetic life,” he says, not hiding how much he loves the idea.
“Deal,” I say.
Immediately, Gio starts to smile viciously. “This is going to be a fucking glorious evening!”
I watch him leave, heading straight for the ring in the center of the club. I roll my shoulders, mentally preparing myself, and begin to follow Gio’s footsteps.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I’m asked as a hand comes to grab me by the elbow. I’m spun around to be faced by Enzo, flanked by Manuel and Carlo. “I had you down as desperate, not clinically insane!”
“I’m showing you my worth,” I say, my words almost mirthfully spoken. “I need to do this.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Carlo states. While he oozes sarcasm, I know he’s right. “Gio will kill you in there.”
“Got too much to live for to die tonight,” I reply, keeping myself cool and collected. “I need Gio to notice me. I know you all have every reason to hate me and, if I’m honest, I don’t know why you’re bothering to stop me, but I have to get in that ring.”
I don’t give them a chance to argue to my saner side. I turn and rush toward the ring. I toss abandon aside and watch Gio standing before the crowd, growling and appealing to their wilder side. As I get ready to make my appearance with him, I take off my jacket, undo my tie, and hand them to Billy before I jump up the steps and into the ring.
“You don’t have to do this,” Billy says, trying to block my way.
“No one is talking me out of this.” I narrow my eyes on Billy, preparing to argue with him.
“C’m
on, Maverick, I’m looking forward to watching your beg for mercy!” Gio goads, coming over to us.
“Watch me leave an impression,” I comment, grinning wickedly at Billy. “Believe me; you’ll want to watch this.”
“Believe me, Zane, I won’t miss it,” he quips with a heightened sense of mockery. “Don’t let us underdogs down.”
I give him a wink. “Wasn’t intending to.”
As I hop up the stairs, ducking only to get under the ropes to meet my competitor when I realize the noise has suddenly grown tenfold. The roar of the crowd is a buzz to my adrenaline rush, causing a thrum of twisted excitement to lace itself into my bloodstream. I cast my gaze to Gio; he’s standing in pressed black pants with a crisp white shirt and the top few buttons are opened. His hands are already formed into fists, his face contorts with sheer hatred for me.
I watch him stand before me, bouncing from foot to foot with fists clenched. He smiles at me menacingly, and I know from the look he’s giving me that he’ll enjoy every moment of beating the life out of me. Billy said I could pack a punch, but he forgot that Giovanni Abbiati is a six-foot-four psychopath.
“C’mon, Maverick ... you must have some built-up anger toward me and my own,” Gio goads, coming closer and forcing me back. “I mean, you’re just another name on a list to us. Neither a man nor a mouse ... just a fucking name.”
It’s with that comment that my hands ball into their own fists at my side, and I slowly bring them up, preparing. He sees this and comes toward me fiercely and fast. He doesn’t hesitate to strike the first punch, and I dive only to make my move. While I land a punch across his cheek and then his ribs, he equally hits me across my jaw before pummeling his fist into my cheek. We both have grievances with one another, and I refuse to allow him to think he’s going to win. We dance around near missed punches, animalistic growls, and a dying need to win.
Maverick: Pericolo #1.5 Page 4
