“We ran into a bit of a problem,” I tell him. “It’s handled now, but I gotta get the fuck out of here after I say hello to Victor, which means you’re on your own for the rest of the night.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The kind that ends with a clean-up crew in the basement and me changing my clothes. Now, get your ass downstairs and act like the doting nephew who has everything under control. I’ll be down in a minute.”
He takes another drag of the cigarette before crushing it in an ashtray. His eyes are full of questions, but I ignore them. There’s no time for me to recap everything and once I start talking about Pablo and what happened with Pilar, I’m going to have to explain my situation with her too and I don’t have the head for that.
I enter the bathroom and quickly change my clothes, throwing my soiled suit in the wastebasket. Once I’m presentable, I make my way back into the office and find Rocco fully dressed in the same wrinkled clothes as earlier. He looks a mess but that’s nothing new.
“You reek of cheap perfume and pussy,” I grunt.
“Sounds like a good time to me. Let’s get this shit over with.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was high, but Rocco doesn’t favor drugs. If he and Victor are on the same page about anything, it’s that, and I think that’s partly because of what happened to his old man. However, we all got our vices and Rocco’s is alcohol and fast women. Ever since his mother died, he overindulges in both, hoping one will numb the pain.
His phone rings and he scrambles to find it, patting down his pant pockets for the offensive device.
“Why is Vi calling me?” he questions, lifting his gaze from the screen.
Losing my patience with everything and everyone, I take the phone from his hand and send my sister’s call to voicemail. It must be nice to have your only worry be celebrating your birthday.
“She’s only calling you because I declined her call,” I explain, handing him back his phone. Maybe she’ll get the hint we’ve got more pressing issues to deal with than planning her birthday weekend.
“Why?” Rocco questions.
Narrowing my eyes, I clench my fists.
“What do you mean why? Did you not hear anything I fucking said since I entered this room? I don’t have time to entertain Violet right now and she’s only calling to give me her flight information.”
“Her flight information,” he repeats.
“God, you are such a fucking mess,” I hiss, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I told you, my mother is sending her and a few of her friends here for the weekend to celebrate her birthday.”
“Fuck you, Joaquin, you never mentioned Vi was coming,” he growls, roughly pushing his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time. “You need to call your mother and tell her to cancel the flights.”
It’s not lost on me that he’s more concerned over the knowledge Violet is coming for a visit than he is knowing Victor is here checking on him. My eyes narrow and I open my mouth to question why he gives a fuck, but I don’t get to the chance because a knock sounds on the door and two seconds later Victor appears.
“Uncle Vic,” Rocco greets, staring over my head. I watch as a grin breaks out across his face and he smooths a hand over his suit jacket. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this surprise?”
Stepping around me, he properly tends to the don by spreading his arms and enveloping the man in a strong embrace, kissing both cheeks before pulling away. I turn to do the same, but Victor doesn’t even realize I’m in the room, he’s too focused on glaring at his nephew.
“You stink,” he observes. “And where the hell is your fucking tie?”
“It’s around here somewhere,” Rocco says, all too calm, cool, and collected. “Let me fix you a drink,” he offers as he makes his way to the rolling bar in the corner of the office. Victor watches him tinker with the crystal decanter for a moment before shaking his head and bringing his gaze to me.
“Joaquin,” he acknowledges. “Always good to see you, son.”
His eyes rake over me, taking me in from head to toe, and I silently curse myself for not taking the time to put on a tie.
“The pleasure is all mine, sir,” I say as I lean forward, kissing both cheeks. He pulls back and cups my shoulder.
“At least you look presentable,” he praises. “This one smells like he spent half the night in a brothel.”
“I wish you would’ve told me you were coming, Uncle Vic. I would’ve picked you up from the airport,” Rocco says as he hands him a glass of scotch. “Or at the very least sent Joaquin for you.”
I hate everything about that sentence and not just because it implies I am at his beck and call, but also because it rolls so easily off his tongue. It makes me wonder if he’s even grateful for a damn thing I’ve done . . . all the sacrifices I’ve made and all the times I’ve put myself on the line to protect him.
“Let’s cut the bullshit, okay, Rocco? I’ve been around a long fucking time and if you think for one second I don’t see right through you, you’re sadly mistaking.” His eyes dart to me. “Joaquin, please see yourself out, I need to speak with my nephew in private.”
I hate that even more.
It’s another dismissal.
Another kick in the fucking face.
A reminder I’m disposable.
“Of course,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. Lifting my gaze to Rocco, I give him a curt nod. “I’m off. There’s something personal I need to tend to.”
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Rocco replies and just like that, I’m dismissed.
Ignoring the sting, I tell myself I’m acting foolish, that I have no right to be offended. I accepted my fate a long time ago. Made my bed and now I’ve got to lie in it. Besides, Pilar needs me and like everything else in my life, she has taken a backseat to the mob for too long.
I see myself out of the office and head straight down to the main level. I don’t bother to check on Pablo’s status, nor do I tell any of the staff I’m leaving for the night. I’m disposable after all, therefore, they can all manage just fine without the Puerto Rican.
Instead of the front door, I leave through the back and spot the sleek town car waiting for me at the curb. Aside from the money and the supped-up penthouse apartment with a view of the water, a personal driver is another perk to having sold my soul to the mafia.
It’s a short drive seeing as my apartment is conveniently located a couple blocks from the club. When we first started this gig, I didn’t feel comfortable having a driver and often walked to and from work. That shit died though, and I got used to having my ass driven the few blocks. It especially came in handy when Pilar was around. I’d sneak her out the back door with me and spend the short ride kissing her neck and stroking the inside of her thighs, teasing her mercilessly.
Tonight, seeing her sprawled across one of the leather booths completely unconscious opened my eyes to a lot of things. Mainly, how hopelessly in love with her I am. But I also realized how much I regret having pushed her to do what she did. It’s a guilt I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, one that I’m sure will eat at me like a fucking cancer.