Damn. I’m a doctor, and I don’t make the kind of money to live in a place like this.
There’s no way Bianca’s salary is high enough to live here.
Then again, the Montroses are old money. Bianca probably isn’t dependent on the money she makes from the club.
Must be nice. I came from next to nothing. My parents could barely afford the mortgage on our mobile home. Of course, it didn’t help that they kept pushing out babies like their lives depended on it.
I cross the lobby to an elevator and press the button with a gold-lined number thirty-two on it. The doors close, and the elevator rushes up. It’s one of those high-speed lifts that makes you feel like your organs are going to come out your ass when you ascend. I chuckle when my ears literally pop as I go up.
It opens to Bianca’s apartment, and damn!
Modern grandeur, coated in marble accents and light hardwood floors, with contemporary art on the walls. Bianca is sitting at a piano, singing a song I instantly recognize. Johanna’s song from Sweeney Todd, one of my favorite musicals.
She’s singing ethereal high notes, far higher in pitch than the sultry jazz standards she performs at Aces. I had no idea she had this kind of range. Each notes pings perfectly and reverberates across the whole apartment. She’s playing block chords on her grand piano as she finishes the song, ending on a gorgeous high note.
I applaud, and she turns around, her cheeks reddening.
“Sorry.” She gets up from the piano bench. “I thought I’d be finished before you got up here. I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”
“Don’t ever apologize for singing like that, Bianca. It was beautiful.”
I walk toward her, my arm extended to caress her check, and I drop my jaw. She’s chosen a different makeup palate tonight. Thicker eyeliner and nearly black lipstick.
And my God…
A green ribbon snaking around the back of her head.
If she dyed her hair jet black...
She’d look just like Ray Sinclair.
My heart is pounding at Ray’s words. “What do you mean a lifetime of pain?”
Ray grins. “Come on, Brother Harry. Think outside the box. What are Hector’s weaknesses?”
Honestly, I have no idea. I don’t think he has a trick knee, or whatever. He’s a huge guy. That’s why he’s able to beat up on me so easily. I’m scrawny, weak. With these damned ears.
“I don’t know.” I look up at Ray. “Do you?”
He taps at his temple. “Use the old noodle. Think about it.”
I stand there, blinking.
He rolls his eyes. “Stop thinking about physical weaknesses. Think about other weaknesses. Who does Hector love more than anything else in the world?”
I shrug. “His mom?”
“No, dipshit. His mother died in childbirth. Don’t you know anything about the guy?”
“We haven’t had the chance to talk about each other’s families between blows to my stomach, actually.”
He chuckles at that. “You’re funny, Brother. Dumb as a sack of bricks, but funny.”
I’m mildly insulted at Ray’s words, but he seems to know something about Hector that can help us get even with him, so I let it slide.
“So he was raised by his dad.”
“Exactly. His father, Hector Dimpsey, Senior. He never remarried. He’s the only parent Hector has ever known.”
