The waitress delivered another drink to Adam. Cocky and confident, Adam surveyed the room of Blake’s men, certain they could take them if it came to it.
“Is it?”
“Right now, I’ve just come to get acquainted...and, of course,” Dorian laughed as he paused, “wish you luck.”
“With?” Adam taunted, trying to sound genuinely confused.
Blake’s nostrils flared as his hand tightened on the glass. “You stole money and property from me. A lot of money. Nobody steals even a shoelace from me without punishment.”
Adam snorted, still not afraid of the threat and hoping his daring smile would only provoke Blake further.
“Well, I thought it was only polite that I introduce myself.” Blake stood up. “Since I’m going to kill you, Adam Vandemilio.”
“I look forward to it,” Adam said, turning away to give Dorian his back. “Because I’m coming for you, too.” A fucking boss power move, one that he probably would’ve been too smart to try if he wasn’t so fucking smashed.
Blake exhaled sharply before sounding footsteps told Adam that he and his men were leaving.
If Blake did anything best, it was build up fear, and that surely had been the intention of his visit, however unsuccessful it was.
Mercedes burst from the back of the club while Carlos, Dan, and Paul rushed to Adam’s side. He continued sipping his drink, acting as if he was not affected by the visit. And the thing was, he really wasn’t acting.
“What the fuck was that?!” Carlos said.
“He wants to kill me,” Adam laughed. He met four sets of panicked eyes. Adam, apparently the only one unfazed by the visit, took another sip of his drink. “Oh, come on, he won’t.”
“Are you serious?!” said Paul. “Yes, he will. He’s Dorian Blake.”
“Did I say won’t? I meant, can’t.” Adam spun his stool to face them, resting his arms along the bar behind him.
His friends stared him down blankly.
“Guys,” he laughed. “Whatever they throw at us, we’ll deal with it when it comes.”
He was still faced with vacant expressions. “Right?! Big fun! Big Five!”
He managed to get Carlos to crack a smile first, followed by Dan, and then Mercedes, though he couldn’t manage to get agreement from Paul. Hindsight was a blessing.
* * *
MARCH 1991
Mercedes pressed her bedroom door closed behind her, securing the locks. She exhaled with relief and leaned against the door. In here, behind the locks, she could finally breathe.
At the mirror she checked her shoulder, pulling down her pink camisole to reveal the bandage which had now turned red at the edges, wincing as she ran her fingers over it.
Knowing that hard and fast was better than slow and cautious, she ripped it from her skin, writhing in place to hold in a yelp. Blood seeped from the wound, begging for cleaning.
“Hey, baby.” Adam’s head poked through her bedroom window.
She startled, jumping high at his voice. “Fuck! Why do you do that?”
“It’s funny,” he shrugged and helped himself through the open window, shutting it behind him. He frowned at her shoulder and paced to her side, hovering behind her in the mirror and holding his hand against her arm.
“This looks like it needs cleaning,” he said as he touched the edges with his finger and she winced in pain. “Let me help you.”
“I can do it,” she said, reaching to the dresser for the bottle of antiseptic and cotton swabs. Stopping her, he took them instead and kept his focus on her as he dipped the cotton into the liquid. When he reached out to touch her, he hesitated at first before lightly pressing the cotton against her wound.
“Not used to injuries anymore,” he laughed.
