Authors: K. Ryan
Brennan shoots me a sly smile. "Definitely
when
, not if."
We share an easy grin, but that doesn't last too long.
"Kinda feels like we took a meeting with the devil tonight, doesn't it?"
I blow out a deep breath as we watch the Gianotti brothers slide out of their shared Maserati, which, naturally, isn't all that different than the one the mayor has been tooling around in for years. Adrenaline pricks up the base of my spine until it reaches my neck, where it settles in and seeps down through the rest of my body. We're getting closer. I can just feel it.
"Or at the very least," I sigh. "Two of his minions."
"Right," Brennan laughs, but this particular laugh isn't the confident one I'm used to hearing from him. It's a little shaky and unsteady. "Pop's gonna hit the roof when he finds out."
I just shrug. "Who cares? It isn't his decision."
I'd be hard-pressed to let him have a say in any decision of mine ever again, but I couldn't exactly tell my brother that.
"So what do yah wanna do, Jack? You wanna nip this in the bud or see where it goes?"
My eyes follow the Gianotti brothers as they hover outside the warehouse's entrance, waiting for us. "I say we play their game for a little while. See what they want. See what they might be able to give us."
"Might be dangerous."
"So," I just lift a shoulder nonchalantly. "Every time I step into the ring, it's dangerous. They said they wanted a clean and honest fight. As far as I can tell, the only differences between this and fighting at our bar are the location and the pay-out."
"Alright," Brennan pushes out a rough sigh and reaches for his door handle. "Let's go."
Before I follow him out, I slip my phone out of my pocket long enough to text Rae. I hadn't gotten much of an opportunity to let her know what was happening until now and sure enough, I've got a flurry of frantic texts waiting for me.
Where are you? What's happening? Are you okay?? Jack??
Her concern would be almost cute if it wasn't so necessary.
Just as I fly off a text to update her, my phone jostles in my hand when Brennan makes a grab for it.
"Hey!" I shove my phone back in my pocket and push him in the chest. "What the hell?"
Brennan blinks at me and then his lips curl up into a knowing grin. He jabs a finger in my chest and says, "You were texting a
girl
, weren't you?"
"Shut up."
"Oh shit, you really were, weren't you? Does Ma know? Oh wait," he stops right in front of me and gives me a playful push when I try to sidestep around him. "This isn't one of those Tinder bangs, is it?"
"What's a Tinder bang?"
He shrugs as we start walking again. "You know, where you meet some broad on Tinder just so you can bang her."
The way he says it, I almost think that's a real thing.
"No," I shake my head. "It's not a Tinder thing."
"Ah," Brennan waggles his eyebrows. "So it
is
a thing then."
"Nope."
"So yah say," he eyes me warily. "I'll get the truth out of you yet."
"Sure."
"I don't like all these one-word answers from you, bro."
"Okay."
Luckily for me, we're already at the entrance and Enzo is holding the door open for us with that ever-present slimy grin on his face.
"Now," he tells us as he ushers us inside. A dim light turns on above us and I have to squint just to get a better look at everything. "It's still under construction, but I think it'll be a real thing of beauty once it's done."
From the looks of it, he might actually be right. There's already a makeshift boxing ring in the center of the expansive, albeit dim room. Stadium seating fills the rest of the room and right above the highest seat is yet another level overlooking the ring. The potential is here and I can already see what this place would look like when it's packed full. I can hear the roars, hear them all screaming my name as I raise my hands up in victory...
"Up there," Enzo points to a darkened window in the center of the wall. "That's where our special seating area will be. It's still needs some work—it is, after all, where our most important patrons will view the fights."
"Of course," Brennan nods. There's just a hint of mockery in his tone and he lifts an eyebrow at me to confirm as much.
There isn't really much else to see here, but when Nero gestures toward a corridor right behind us, my eyebrows shoot up into my forehead.
"Training area's down there," he tells us, his eyes gleaming with something I don't like. "We might even put a press room in too if things go well, which they will. Basement's down there too. You wanna go take a look at the rest of it?"
"No," I answer for both of us. "We're good."
Brennan huffs out a laugh next to me. Enzo turns to us, his arms spread out wide as if to say,
Look at all my shit,
and his mouth spread apart in a wide, triumphant grin.
"Angelo is fighting tomorrow night at our VIP lounge downtown," Enzo's arms fall to his sides as he speaks, but that glint is still there in his eyes. "I know your father took you off the roster this weekend after your little incident with the mayor last week, so I'm assuming you're free?"
I bristle just at the mention of what happened, but brush it off just as quickly. The last thing I want to do right now is give the Gianotti brothers any ammunition. Since I won't be getting back in the ring for at least another week—thanks to dear old dad putting his foot down—maybe watching a fight is as good as I'm going to get for awhile.
"Sure, he's free," Brennan answers for me and nudges me with his elbow as he leans in to whisper, "Bring your Tinder bang as your date."
Knee-jerk reaction would have me taking a swing at my brother, so it's a good thing I've got a handle on my shit outside the ring. There are so many things wrong with what he just said I can't even get them all straight and the common denominator starts with an R.
"Nope," I shake my head furiously. "Not gonna happen."
Rae getting anywhere near a fight sponsored by the Gianottis? Over my dead body.
The longer this plays out, the more dangerous it's going to get. We're all better off if this just stays as uncomplicated as possible, which is easier said than done. But because the thought of Rae getting too close, of one of them recognizing her and putting two and two together...my fists clench into tight balls at my sides.
"Well," Enzo shrugs. "All you have to do is give our bouncer at the door your name and you'll be able to get front and center, if you want. That way you'll be able to see what you'll be up against. Maybe that will help sway your decision."
"Yeah," I rock back on my heels in thought as I eye him carefully. "Maybe."
"YOU TWO HAVE to be the stupidest sons of bitches I've ever met in my life!" my dad roars and he smacks his fist against the table in his office just to make his point even clearer.
As if we didn't already know.
"What in God's name made you think that was a good idea?" he pushes on, red in the face, eyes practically bulging out of his head.
I can't remember the last time I saw him this wound-up and I guess, if I was in his shoes, I'd probably feel the same way. But then again, he's also lied to me and to my brothers for pretty much our entire lives, so I'm willing to give myself a free pass on this one.
"Would you calm down for a second, Pop?" Brennan holds his hands out in front of him like he might to a rabid dog.
"Calm down? You want me to calm down? You two just took a meeting with gangsters. How in the hell do you expect me to calm down?"
Brennan just shrugs. "It's not like we agreed to anything. It was just a meeting to see what they wanted. We don't have to do anything."
My dad's eyes dart between both us before finally settling on me. "This is a dangerous game you're playing here. You should never take anything they say at face value."
"I'm just taking my time is all," now it's my turn to hold my hands up in the air. "It's just—"
"Don't," he jabs a finger in my face. "Don't you dare tell me this is about money. Your mother and I raised you better than that."
"It's not about money, Pop," I murmur.
"Then what is it about?"
I can't tell him that. At least not without betraying Rae's trust and to an extent, Sean's too. They deserve better than me blurting it all out to my dad just because I'm trying to keep myself out of trouble like I'm still in high school.
"You know, I expected better from you two. You've always been smarter than this and I know you're both adults, but I don't understand why you're choosing
now
to suddenly decide nothing I say matters."
I study him carefully, from his defensive, hunched-over stance by his desk, the lines around his eyes, the bags underneath them, and the way his hands shake a little into fists above the desk. I've idolized this man my entire life—wanted to be him, wanted to make him proud, wanted him to see me make something of myself. Now, I look at him and I don't know what I see. Don't know how I'm supposed to see him. He's broken, but then again, I am too. I just never knew it until a few weeks ago.
"At some point," I tell him quietly. "You gotta let us make some of the calls. I wanted to see where this might go, I took Brennan with me, and we're standing in front of you now. That's all you need to know."
He nods tightly, almost as if he can hear my thoughts, almost as if he knows what I know and maybe he does. Either way, the issue is dropped for the time being because he slaps a newspaper down on the desk and points down to a headline that reads,
New Shopping Center Planned For Southie.
"Maybe you're right," he allows and gestures to the newspaper again. "I think we've got some bigger issues to deal with right now."
Brennan snatches up the paper and I skim the contents from over his shoulder. When your reality becomes stranger than fiction, everything is relative. Namely, the fact that a businessman named William Rossi is spearheading the plans to turn a residential area into a shopping mall because the mayor just signed off on rezoning that part of Southie to raise taxes. If the article is right, it's only a matter of time before the people living in that area have to move elsewhere so William Rossi can swoop in and buy up his prime real estate. The very same William Rossi whose Cadillac has been sitting outside each of the meetings we'd tailed Moretti to. Coincidence? Definitely not. Especially not after the night I had.
"What the hell?" Brennan mutters under his breath. "This is bullshit. How the hell does this keep happening?"
"Because we don't have anyone in City Hall putting our neighborhood first," my dad shakes his head.
"This isn't happening," Brennan shoves the paper back onto the desk like the very sight of it disgusts him. "This
can't
happen."
"It won't," my dad nods. "We'll figure something out. We always do."
I may not take much stock in anything he has to say anymore but he's right about that. I'll figure this out. One way or another, it all circles back to the mayor. I just need a little more time and a little more information. Like Sean said, maybe I just have to follow the money, wherever that leads.
Until then, I have to play the game and wait.
Rae
I tug at the skirt of my dress a little, willing the smooth fabric to stay in place, but the emerald satin just won't cooperate. Sort of like my hair, which has a mind of its own tonight and refuses to lay flat like it's supposed to. Instead, it curls around my shoulders and my chin like a fuzzball of ginger fluff.
Like all best laid plans, this just isn't working out for me. Every single one of these things I've been to in the past as always gone like this: music, fake conversations, fake laughter, eating food portioned so tiny you can barely taste it, more music, more fake conversations, and finally, commencing in an endorsement already bought and paid for by the mayor.
How long we need to actually stay here still remains to be seen. The niceties have already come and gone:
Oh, Raena, that color looks lovely on you. How are you adjusting to being back home? Are you planning on attending your father's voter appreciation event next month? Oh, so you're still working at your sister's store? Are you not looking for another job?
That always lasts for about the first ten minutes or so. After a while, people tend to forget you exist if you just blend into the background like a good wallflower.
My eyes scan the crowd and it doesn't take me long to find him. The mayor, dressed to the nines in a crisply tailored Armani suit and his dark hair slicked back, is in his element.
This
is what he thrives on the most—all the attention. Everyone here just for him. I think if he could live in these events, if he could throw one of these stupid fundraisers every single day, he wouldn't hesitate. Lord knows he has the money to do it.
It's equally fitting that Bennett and I are on one end of the room while my sister and her parents hold down the fort on the other. We're a family divided, but the only one who seems to know or even really care is me. My thoughts drift back to Thursday night, where I'd tried and failed to identify anyone who looked even a little familiar. The only face, other than Jack's, that really stuck out to me was my brother's.