“Don’t worry, man, we’ll find someone. And you have me and Mom until then. You’ll be fine.”
He nodded and changed the subject. “So what do you think this meeting’s about?”
Thoughts of my earlier encounter with Lou brought forth several conclusions. “He’s pissed about the last warehouse that was raided by the FBI. He knows there’s a rat in the group and demanded that I find out who it is within the next week, and that if I don’t, he’ll do it his fuckin’ self.” At a red light, I took a glance at Jimmie who was staring straight ahead, lost in thought.
After a few seconds, he tightened his jaw and nodded. “Fuck. I can’t think of who the fuckin’ rat could be. Everyone in the group is just too fuckin’ loyal to Lou, you know?” He took in a deep breath and then scratched his head. “Michael wasn’t working with the FBI. It was just the three of us trying to build a case before we brought the evidence to any agents.”
“Well, maybe before he died, he gave some info to an agent that he trusted.”
Jimmie shook his head. “Maybe, but Michael and I met up the night before his death. He told me that there were no updates. He said that we were getting close and that he might have some leads, but didn’t say anything about any FBI agents. It just doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense.”
Jimmie was right. None of that shit made any fucking sense, so I began to go through the list of Lou’s people in my head. “Well, hands down, I know Vinnie and Larry are not involved. What about Buddy?”
“Buddy’s a douchebag, but a rat? Nah, he’s beyond loyal to Lou. If Lou told him to suck his cock, he’d ask for how long.”
I let out a deep, frustrated breath. Yeah, that was definitely true. Buddy had worked for Lou since he was a kid. He had nothing but the utmost respect for Lou and looked up to him like a father. Trying to find out who was the rat was going to be more difficult than I’d anticipated. Fuck. Lou was not going to let it go.
For the rest of the ride, Jimmie and I drove quietly. I was sure Jimmie was trying to figure shit out in his head just as much as I was.
As I pulled into the back of Club21’s private parking lot, I slowed down when I saw a crowd that had formed a circle in the middle of the lot. Jimmie and I quickly exchanged confused glances. I parked the car as we both hopped out and jogged towards the commotion.
Men chanted and yelled, raising beer glasses in the air, hooting and hollering from the top of their lungs, “Get ’em. Beat his ass. That’s right—blood—I want to see fuckin’ blood!” Hurriedly, I snaked my way through the crowd and was finally in the center of it all. One guy I didn’t recognize was covered in blood with a swollen eye and busted lip. His shirt was torn, and he wobbled from side-to-side sluggishly. He brought his fist up to his face in an attempt to block oncoming punches.
Larry, one of our men in charge of the club when I’m not around, was standing in the center of the circle. He seemed to be sober, bouncing back and forth on his toes, fist secured at eye level, positioned and ready for another swing. Larry knew fucking better than to start a riot. Anger building within me forced my legs toward them. When I got deeper into the center, I could hear that all of the shouting and yelling had died down. Once I was behind him, I yanked Larry by the shoulder and pulled him away from the other guy. Larry’s eyes flamed when he saw that I got in the middle of it all. “What the fuck, Marky? He deserves it!” He pointed at the drunken man, who was mumbling something unintelligible.
“Not here, Larry!” I pointed a finger toward the back of the club. Hovering over him, I pointed that same finger into his chest. “You fuckin’ know better! Not at my club. Get your ass inside and clean up.” I heard the sound of shoes scattering along the concrete surface as employees and customers rushed away and back into the club. Looking around, I spotted Vinnie, my number one main man. Nodding at him, I yelled, “Take care of this loser.” I nudged over at the drunken man and made my way into the club.
The hallway was clear by the time I entered. Everyone must’ve rushed back in. Instead of going toward the dance floor, I walked through a private door in the back hallway that led up a staircase toward the second level. Once I entered the second level hallway, I rushed and pushed through the crowds of people wandering around. Finally, I made my way into our VIP room at the end of the hall. When I entered, all eyes were on me: Jimmie was seated at the end of the white sectional, Buddy was leaning against the glass wall that overlooked the dance floor, and Larry hovered over the sink washing his bloody hands.
Snapping the door shut, I shoved off my jacket and threw it over a chair. “What the fuck was all that about, Lar?”
Wrapping a towel around his hands, he shook his head and took a seat by the table. “I got a page from the blond bartender about a drunk acting rowdy. I went to check it out, and the guy was giving me a problem, so I roughed him up a little bit and kicked him the fuck out. When I did, he took a swing at me, so . . . you know how I get.” He shrugged.
“No, you know fuckin’ better. I don’t want police around here. You should have taken him out, closed the fuckin’ door, and left it at that. Not only were employees out there but so were customers! I want this to be a fuckin’ clean club, Larry. You got that?”
Cocking his lips aside, he nodded, “Yeah, I got that.”
“Good.”
It was going to be a long fucking night.
***
We all hung around in the VIP room, waiting for Lou to arrive. No one had said a word for the past forty minutes as we all sat there silently wondering why the meeting was called. Lou never asked to meet with all of us at once, unless it was something of the utmost importance. I grabbed myself a second drink and realized that the ice machine was broken. After making a phone call to one of the maintenance men, I downed the warmth of the smooth whisky in one shot. I knew that I should have stopped drinking, but it too was difficult. Liquor was my solace, my time away from all the bullshit, my only escape until I met Mia, but Mia wasn’t there at that moment, and I needed something to ease my mind from the hell-hole issue I called Lou.
Jimmie glanced my way and raised a brow. I knew he hated it when I drank, but the waiting game was beginning to bore me, and, even though I shouldn’t have done it, I poured myself another drink. That’s when Lou walked in with his nephew, Giovanni Sorrento. I hadn’t seen Gio in years. Last I’d heard of him, he was involved in a bad deal and skipped town. Now he was suddenly back from out of the blue . . . which only meant Lou was up to no good.