6
TWO DAYS LATER
BISHOP
The sun is just starting to set as I pull into the Hawkeye Club and park in the area reserved for the Hawkes.
All the other spots are empty.
As they should be.
Everyone else is enjoying a night off. A break away from daily stress of their jobs and the uncertainty that continues to surround us.
I could have gone to Mom and Dad’s place instead of staying at home alone. Dad’s invitation to come have some of his famous jerk chicken with them, Pope, Allie, and Benjamin was tempting.
But ultimately, I just couldn’t do it.
No matter how much I hyped myself up, I couldn’t go and be the fifth wheel again. I couldn’t bring myself to show up, sit with them around that table, watch how happy they are together despite the fact that at any moment, Satriano could make good on his warning that he would be seeing us soon. At any moment, Michael McDonald could surface with a bang.
Days have turned into weeks since we first learned of his arrival in New Orleans, yet we’re no closer to discovering where he is or what he’s doing here.
And everyone else just goes on with their lives as if living under this cloud is normal.
Like it doesn’t keep them awake at night the way it does me.
So I couldn’t go there tonight. I couldn’t sit and pretend. But I also couldn’t spend the night on my couch, either.
Because you can’t take a night off.
You’ve never been able to.
Even before Leonardo Satriano appeared in New Orleans all those years ago and fucked up our lives by coming after Jack, I always found myself restless on my nights off.
Unable to relax to read or watch a movie like a normal person would.
I couldn’t last more than an hour before I’d find myself driving to one of the clubs to just feel…useful.
And since the other Satriano arrived, it’s only gotten worse.
Most nights, I don’t even last ten minutes.
Tonight, it was more like five. Five damn minutes after I got back to my place after meeting with Gabe and Dad to discuss the current status of our investigations, I was changing and turning around to come here and have a drink at the bar.
Anything but champagne…
Satriano’s “gift” and note continue to keep me awake at night as much as the nightmares do. There was no way I would have slept tonight even if I had stayed in.
So, I might as well be here.
I sigh at the absurdity of my life lately.
How I’ve become this machine that doesn’t sleep, barely interacts with anyone other than those I need to for work, and only thinks about one thing—what it will take to remove that fucker Damon from the face of the earth without bringing down the might of his entire organization on us in retaliation.
Of course, that would require finding him first.
So, one baby step at a time.
But those baby steps are becoming agonizing.
