24
ALESSIO
The strip clubcan run itself tonight. That’s what I pay Starla for.
Instead, I’m at the casino bar. Third scotch down, and I’m staring at the wood grain like it holds the secrets of the universe.
Around me, Vegas does its thing. Winners, losers, cocktail waitresses dodging grabby hands. Slot machines screaming for attention. None of it matters. None of it even registers beyond background noise.
My head’s too full of other shit to care about any of it.
My brain’s too busy running the same loop it’s been stuck on for the past hour:You have a son. You have a fucking son.
“What’s eating you?”
Dario slides onto the stool beside me like he owns the place. Which, technically, he does.
I drain what’s left of my scotch. “Nothing’s eating me. I’m peachy.”
“Bullshit.” He signals the bartender with two fingers. “You’ve been sitting here for an hour looking like someone shot your dog.”
“You keeping tabs on me now?”
“Hard not to notice when my cousin’s brooding like a teenager at my bar.” He accepts his drink without looking away from my face. “What’s going on?”
The words sit heavy on my tongue. Once I say them out loud, they become real. No take-backs. No pretending I dreamed the whole thing.
“I have a son.”
Dario’s glass stops halfway to his mouth. “Come again?”
“A kid. Mine.” I signal for another scotch because three wasn’t nearly enough for this conversation. “Just got the DNA results today.”
“Jesus.” He sets his drink down carefully, like sudden movements might spook me. “One of your recent conquests?”
A laugh escapes, “Try six years ago. One-night stand. She works at my club now.”
“And you’re sure he’s yours?”
“You should see him, D. Kid’s basically my clone. But yeah, I ran the test.” The bartender slides another scotch my way, and I lift it in a mock toast. “Congratulations are in order, right? I’m a daddy.”
It occurs to me that I might be a little drunk. Or a lot.
Dario fixes me with that look he gets when he’s trying to solve a problem. “I’m not sure. This… doesn’t seem like much of a celebration.”
“That’s the thing.” I set the glass down harder than necessary. “The kid part? That’s actually... I’m excited about that. I can’t wait to get to know him.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“His mother.”
“Ah.” Dario shifts to face me fully. “Complicated?”
“You could say that.” I push the scotch away before I do something stupid like drunk-dial Nina and demand answers. “Remember when you and Paige first met? That whole mess?”
“Ah, yeah, when I was ready to put a bullet in her for stealing from me.” His grin is all teeth. “Before I knew she had my kids cooking in the oven.”
The irony hits me, and I laugh. “We’re a real pair,” I tell him. “Both knocked up strangers the first night we met them.”
