Dr. Greyson removes the tubing and checks his vitals, then gives me his assessment. “His breathing is okay. His lungs sound good too. I could give him something to bring him out of it, but it might make him a bit cranky.”
“Give it to him,” I say. The time for pampering and coddling is over.
The doctor squirts something up his nasal cavity and within minutes, Giovanni rises from the filthy mattress like Lazarus from the dead.
“What did you give me?” he growls at Dr. Greyson.
“Naloxone,” he says, unruffled by Giovanni’s ferocious expression, which he then turns on me. I am equally unmoved.
“I don’t like it,” he hisses. “Put me back under.”
“We’re leaving, sweetheart,” I tell him brusquely. “You’re either walking out of here on your own two feet or I’ll have my men carry you out.”
I can only describe the sound he makes then as a roar of contempt. I would be impressed if it weren’t only his frustration at losing his high. I wait until he’s finished emoting and say, “Get your ass up, young man. Let’s go.”
He stands shakily from the bed and glances at the baggie of heroin, enough of it to put his lights out for good. That was his plan, I suspect, to shoot up until he overdosed like his good-for-nothing mother. If I didn’t love him like I do, I would throw that in his face.
“Leave it,” I say to him, just in case he has any other ideas. He glares at me again because whatever plans he’d made for himself, I’ve rudely interrupted. “You mad at me?” I ask when he squares off with me in an attempt at intimidation. I wonder if he might strike me, but something stays his hand. “Yeah, that’s okay. I’m mad at you too.” I drag him into my arms and hold him closer than I ever have before, so tight I’m probably hurting him. Thank fucking Christ he called me, and I got here in time. Looks like I’m going to have make good on my promise and start attending church again. Still trapped in my embrace, I grab his hair by the roots until he winces and force his ear to my lips.
“You ever fucking do that to me again, Giovanni, and I’ll kill you myself.”
18
We arrive back at my penthouse around midnight. In my bedroom, Dr. Greyson takes the necessary samples to conduct a full health screening. After he leaves, I sit a surly Giovanni on the couch and round up my men for a final pep talk.
“Enforcement saved your asses tonight,” I tell my security team. “In the future, when you are on duty, you do not leave your post. If you need to take a piss, you do it in a bottle. You need to take a shit, you wear a fucking diaper. If you let this young man,” I point to my sullen charge, “out of my home again, I will slit your goddamned throats.” I gesture to Joseph. “And then I’ll slit your throat because you’re the one in charge. And Rico… where’s Rico?” I spot him on the outskirts of the huddle, staring back at me with cold terror in his eyes. I haven’t slept in 48 hours, and I am not in a compassionate mood. “If I find out you’re sleeping on the job again, you won’t be waking up. Have I made myself clear, gentlemen?”
“Yes, Boss,” they say in a chorus.
“Dismissed.”
They shuffle out, and I turn to my boy who looks as though he might start bawling or swing at me, depending on which way things go. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”
“Monday morning.”
Three days ago, as I suspected.
“Go heat up some soup. I’m going to wait while you eat it. Then we’re taking a shower and going to bed, and if there’s any trouble from you—”
“There won’t be,” he says, still pissy.
“You’re sleeping in your box tonight and I’m locking the door because I don’t trust you not to hurt yourself or run off while I’m asleep. That was a cowardly thing to do, sneak off in the middle of the night like a fucking thief.”
He looks closer to crying now, but there’s still shit that needs to be done, and I’m running on fumes, so I bring him out to the kitchen and make him pick out a can of soup. I heat it up in the microwave and set it down in front of him with some crackers and a spoon. I gesture at the meal. “Eat your fucking food.”
In the morning,I feel marginally better. My spirits lift a little more when I see Giovanni kneeling in his box as if waiting to serve me. There’s no reason to break from routine.
“Go start breakfast,” I tell him once I’ve unlocked the door and let him out. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
I give him just enough of a head start to grab both our robes. I’m going to have to watch him like a hawk around the knives now. It’s a shame at how much trust was lost. I blame myself for that too.
Breakfast is subdued, both of us watching each other warily. “Mangia,” I tell him. “We have all day to discuss it.”
“You’re not going to work?” he asks.
“Ask me again, the right way.”
“Are you going to work today… Master?”
