“Hell, no, you’re not,” Eddie snorts. “That fire door was never up to code. Had it switched out for a door with an actual alarm. You go out that way, the whole club’ll know it.”
“Then what?” Finch tips his head to one side. “Come on, baby. Spill.”
“They’re on the way,” Eddie says as an aside to me. “Three minutes. I’d better go down to say hello. Good to see you tonight, Boss.” And with that, he gives a lazy two-finger salute, and leaves us alone.
I reach out a hand to Finch. He takes it, and I pull him up from the seat. “That alleyway? I remember it as a bright point in my life. But it was also a Clemenza graveyard. After I killed that guy, and Frank and I cleaned out the rest of that crew over the next few days, Tino Morelli reached out to me. I’d tried the Morellis before, of course, but got turned down like all the others. This time, though, Tino came to me. Told me he’d accept me as an associate and let me prove myself. Imagine that: the great Don Morelli deigning to talk to some skinny gay kid who kept making trouble on his turf.” I have Finch in my arms, my mouth so close to his that his breath is fluttering over my lips.
Downstairs, the music stops abruptly.
“I think that’s our cue.” I let Finch go, but he gravitates to me as I go over to the wall and press a discreet button. A section of the wall slides aside, and he gives a delighted laugh, the laugh I love to hear from him. I haven’t heard it for months, it feels like.
“A goddamn secret passageway?”
“But of course. Let me show you, angel.” I grab his hand again and pull him into it. The passage is narrow and claustrophobic, but clean. A string of twinkling lights along the ceiling gives it a festive feeling. “The buildings around this area date from the Prohibition era. Most of them were gutted and renovated; the rum-run passages were taken out, or not up to code, mostly. When Eddie and I were renovating, we found this one, which had been walled up. I don’t think it’s been used for a long time. People just forgot about it. Anyway,” I continue as I lead Finch through, “to prove myself, I made it my mission to disrupt as many Clemenza businesses as I could throughout the city. It allowed Tino to move in, and as a reward he allowed me into his Family as a full member. He made me. Your father was a very generous man.”
“But where does this passage lead?” Finch asks, and I note that he does not remark on my comment about Tino.
“Around the back of the block, down onto the street. We’re nearly there now.”
“No cool speakeasy hidden in the basement of the building?”
“I think someone would’ve noticed something like that a lot earlier than I found out about the passage. But we own the whole building now, so if we want to hack out the basement and put a bar in there, why not?”
As I told Finch, we’re almost at the end of the passage. It gets narrower as we go along, but we have the lights to help. We come to the door, and I open it on another set of rickety stairs. “We should probably get these fixed before they fall apart, “ I admit.
We head down carefully, trying not to shake the stairs any more than they shake themselves. At the bottom of the stairs, another door opens on the back of the block. I quietly unlock the padlock on it and peek outside to make sure a car is waiting across the road. Of course it is. Angelo never lets me down.
“Ready?” I ask Finch.
He gives me a speculative look. “Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but whyexactlydid you buy the nightclub where we met? I assume it has some business purpose, as well. You wanna run drugs through here, launder money?”
“The opposite, if anything. I’ve been thinking lately that we need to expand our portfolio. There's a lot to be said for the money we make in what we do, but so much of it is predicated on cooperation with allies. When those allies betray us…” I spread my arms and shrug. “I want to run this place as exactly what it is: an exclusive nightclub. Clean as possible.”
“Don't tell me Don Luciano Morelli has plans to go straight?”
“I just think it's smart to diversify our portfolio. Putting all our eggs in one basket means they all get smashed when someone treads on it.”
“AndIthought we agreed that I would be consulted on all business matters, as your consigliere.”
“Sure, but thiswasintended as an anniversary gift, business perks aside.”
Finch raises an eyebrow, hands on his hip. “And that's the only reason I'm going to let you get away with this. But in future, husband, remember: we are a partnership.”
Just when I think I couldn't love Finch any more, he says something like that, and I find myself tumbling all over again. I push him up against the wall, leaning over him, enjoying the obstinate expression on his face. “You sure are bossy for someone who’s not the Boss.”
“You might be the Boss, but me? I wear acrown.”
It's exactly why so many people hate us—because they know how enchanted and captivated I am by Finch. But I love feeling that tug of ownership between us. I wouldn't have it any other way.
“You sure do, baby bird. Now, are you ready to go?”
Finch smiles. “Not yet.” And he pulls me down into a wet tongue kiss, his hands clutching at me hungrily. A lesser man would give in and have him right there at the bottom of the stairs. But I have learned the benefits of a proper setting.
“Let's get the fuck out of here and go home,” I groan into his mouth.
Outside we hear the police arriving on the other side of the block. But by the time they've made their arrests we’re long gone, driving back to the townhouse as fast as we can without getting pulled over.
* * *
