“What, man?” he asks, his face suddenly shocked. “Are you serious?”
I glare at him. “Get out of here. Now.”
His face falls and his shoulders tense. He nods. “Fine, alright.” He puts his hands up and I watch him walk down the hallway and back into the main area of the club.
“Fuck.” I push my fingers through my short shaggy hair and then look down at my fist that stings a little from the sweat against the scabbing on my knuckles.
“Great, just great.” I flex my hand for a moment and ignore the slight pain that it causes.
If I can’t get off tonight, what else am I going to do?
I look toward the office, knowing that no one is in there, and I head down, pulling my keys out of my pocket and find the one for the office lock. I unlock it and head into the dark room. I flip the light switch on, close the door and look around at everything Carmine has set up since our father died.
It looks much the same. Large desk off to the right of the room. Several full book cases of files and books on business and running a club. A few chairs in the room some meant more for pleasure than business, I’m sure.
I briefly wonder just how many times Carmine and Soren have fucked in this room, but I shake that thought off and simply grab a cub of water from the water cooler in the room. I need it if I’m going to be leaving here anytime soon.
I swallow down the cold water it feels like ice running down my hot throat.
After sitting down in one of the chairs for about fifteen minutes, bouncing my knees and feeling incredibly impatient, I can’t take it anymore.
I can’t stand the idea of going back to the estate or even to my own apartment all alone after what happened tonight. Both things.
Carmine might think he has the right idea not letting me talk to my connections, but I know he’s wrong. I know we need the information they have and…fuck it, I’m tired of waiting.
I stand up and pull the keys out of my pocket again before heading out of the office. I shut the light off, lock up, and head out of the back entrance and around the building to where I parked my car. I don’t feel like dealing with the crowd in the front of the club, not after embarrassing that guy and myself with whatever that poor excuse for hooking up was.
He’ll either tell his friends the guy he was hooking up with was an asshole, or he’ll lie to them, tell them it was a quick butamazing time, but we decided not to trade names or numbers. Maybe one of them will recognize me as Tommaso Dresvanni and insist that their friend try to talk to me again.
That I don’t want to deal with.
I get in my car and drive as quick away from the club as I did getting to it.
I still feel a bit fuzzy in my head, but it’s not enough to keep me away from the road, and I know exactly where I’m going.
I park near the elementary school in San Damiano, one of the sectors of Tessari on the complete opposite side as Tessi Oscura, where our family estates are.
My car stands out like a sore thumb in the day light, so it’s a good thing it’s dark and the street lamps in the lot are dim. I walk down the sidewalk about a half mile with my hands in my pockets, ignoring any late-night dog walkers and joggers that I pass.
Until I reach a slight opening in the trees to the left of me, with some flowers planted strategically on the edges. Red roses. Unless you know what to look for, you’d think nothing of it except that it was just some wild roses growing from some small bushes that must’ve propagated from one of the nearby gardens…but I do know what I’m looking for.
I check all around me before I ease into the opening between the trees and head down the trail that leads to a fenced in area. I don’t have the key to the gate, so I’m forced to climb over the fence and haul myself down to the grass below.
As I do so, several people come out from the darkness of the yard with their guns posed.
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” one of them asks.
I put one hand on my own gun and another up. “Tommaso Dresvanni,” I tell them. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Dresvanni…” one of them mumbles. “Jake told us about you. But that doesn’t answer why you’re here.”
“Why the hell do you think I’m here?” I ask them. “I need some info. Jake and that fucker Travi owe me.”
The woman on the right laughs quietly. “It’s just Tommy.” She puts her gun down.
I squint through the darkness. “Mel?” I ask her with a smirk.
“I go by Trish here,” she explains.
