And the night after that.
And maybe we’d have cherry pie.
Chapter Three
5 Weeks Ago
I straddled my bike, dropped the kickstand and turned off the engine. I pulled my helmet off my head and tucked it under my arm, pulling off my fingerless, leather gloves as I strode toward the gym. The doors were locked but the dim light shining through the glass told me Anthony was in there, no doubt working overtime to make his dream a reality. He had been working around the clock to get this place in order, to open it and start a new life.
I had distanced myself from him, bitter he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain. But all the while I was being a prick he was getting Victor Pastore to deliver me his underboss. Bianci came through just like he vowed to, getting me proof my brother was murdered by Jimmy Gold.
I rapped my bare knuckles against the glass door, peering into the window to watch Anthony walk toward me. I shoved my gloves into my pocket and took a step back as he opened the door. He greeted me with a cold stare, crossing his arms against his chest and leaned against the door blocking the entrance.
“Need a word,” I said, breaking the silence between us.
He studied me, holding his stance for a minute before backing away, clearing the entry for me to step inside. I glanced around the gym, impressed by the work he had put into the business. At first glance, one would think Anthony was a badass motherfucker, and he was. The streets made him tough, they made him wise—but beneath the surface Bianci had a heart.
“The great enforcer goes legit,” I commented, nodding my head in approval before turning around and glancing at him. “Looks good, Bianci.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“I take it you’re not too pleased to see me,” I declared, placing my helmet on the counter, bending my leg as I propped my boot against the wall and leaned against it.
“Didn’t expect to see you,” he shrugged. “You fell off the face of the earth.”
“Thought you left me hanging,” I countered.
“I told you I was a man of my word, Jack,” he stated.
“I paid Vic a visit.” I hesitated slightly before continuing. “I owe you an apology, Bianci,” I declared.
“You don’t owe me shit. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it,” he said firmly. “I take it Vic gave you what you needed.”
“He did. But I’m guessing he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t of gone in to bat for me.” I pushed myself off the wall and took a step closer to him. “Thank you, brother,” I whispered, holding out my hand.
Anthony slid his hand into mine and shook it firmly. “Glad you got what you needed,” he sighed, the ice broken between us as we pulled our hands away and stared at one another. “I take it you have a plan,” he surmised.
“I got a few things floating around my head, nothing concrete,” I replied.
His lips smirked, and he shook his head.
“Been around long enough to know that you aren’t going to disclose that shit to me,” he declared.
“I will get that motherfucker,” I vowed.
“There’s not a doubt in my mind you will,” he replied, cocking his head to the side as he peered at me. “Hope it brings you closure, but I don’t think it will,” he added.
I pondered his statement.
There was no such thing as closure. At least, not for me. I never got closure when my boy died, never made peace with the wrongs I did that caused his death. No, closure was a thing for dreamers.
“I’m doing it for revenge. I’m doing it because I’m a sick fuck that wants to torture that bastard,” I declared.
“Still, everyone needs closure,” he insisted.
“What the fuck do you know about closure, Bianci? You ever lose someone you love? Don’t give me that shit about your girl because that shit was temporary. She didn’t drop dead never to be seen again,” I sneered, angrily.
“No I haven’t…but Jack, killing Jimmy isn’t going to bring back Danny. Sure, it might make you feel better, but that shit is temporary,” he said, throwing my words back in my face.
“Why you pleading Jimmy’s case?” I asked suspiciously.
“Only case I’m pleading is yours,” he said firmly. “I saw Vic lose control, become a fucking monster, all because he was trying to avenge Val’s death. In the end he lost everything that mattered and that cocksucker who ordered the hit is still living and breathing,” he argued. “Just don’t want to see you lose control.”
Anthony had no idea I was manic depressive. He didn’t understand how easily it was for me to lose control.
“There was a woman. I remember her being brought out of the house on a stretcher right before it blew,” he started.