I had wasted eight out of the ten days I was given to make a decision, unsuccessfully gathering information on Luciano and his past relationships, if I could call them that.
Nobody was willing to talk.
I had gone to his club more times in those eight days than I had been on dates (which was once).
I had drilled people with subtle questions about Luciano's ex; anyone of them; but everyone was tight-lipped.
The only information I had gotten, so far: He had dated them and dumped them within mere months. The longest he had stayed with someone was nine months.
That information was handed to me by the bartender, who begged me and made me swear not to tell anyone he told me that.
Apparently, Luciano didn't like having his private life out on display and had violently handled someone who once gave out his location when he just wanted to have an uninterrupted afternoon.
Everything still seemed quite literally unrealistic to me. I had heard of his actions, which I didn't have doubts of, but not seeing any of what happened made the talk more distant from my reality. Again, old wives' tale.
Besides, people talked of things I didn't believe a person could actually do. According to the bartender, the guy who had led to his afternoon being interrupted had his tongue cut off so he wouldn't be able to tell people anything anymore.
Sure, Luciano might have pointed a gun and fired a couple of times, but the story of him cutting off someone's tongue seemed like a reach to me.
It was day nine when I stepped into the club for the tenth evening in a row. I had a good enough excuse to be there now, at least – Vera would be performing tonight.
My eyes scanned everyone on the poles, but my roommate in her third year of college was nowhere to be seen. I settled for meeting the bartender, but it was a different person on duty tonight.
"Hi, good evening. Scotch on the rocks?" I raised a brow.
The bartender gave me a once-over, as if debating with herself on whether to ask me for my ID or not. She finally shrugged, mumbling a "coming right up" before turning and walking away.
I swiveled on the barstool and felt my bones jump out of my skin as I came face-to-face with the blond D'Angelo.
"Matteo," I whispered.
He had a wicked grin on his face, like he had approached me with a certain topic in mind and found it interesting even before speaking to me about it.
"You really do have a death wish, don't you?" He sat beside me, watching the bartender hand me the glass of Scotch.
A lazy piece of lemon I hadn't asked for sat on the rim of the glass as a garnish. I picked it off and set it aside.
"I don't think I understand what you mean by that," I said, tipping the glass and reveling in the warmth of the alcohol down my throat and into my stomach.
"You, my friend, have been going around asking people about my brother's personal life." At that, I froze. The thought hit me like a wave that Nas, the bartender, was probably being punished for telling me stuff.
Deciding to play it cool so as not to give it away, I turned to Matteo with a confused frown. "What private life?"
"If you're going to act like you know nothing about it, at least do a decent job at it. Everyone in this town answers to the Capo, even if they're not exactly obligated to. Any single whisper about him, he is told. How the hell did you think you coming here everyday for a full week and then some, asking questions about who and what he's fucked, will go unnoticed?"
I sighed in defeat. He knew. Maybe even everyone in the town knew about me and probably gave a code red whenever they saw me.
"Nobody's told me anything, though. He's in good hands." I shrugged, a way to lighten the mood. He wasn't having it.
"You've put someone's life in danger for your snooping, I hope you know that." My heart skipped a beat.
Definitely not Nas, right?
"I don't—"
"Why do you think there's a new bartender?"
For a moment, the world was moving too fast. Maybe I was frozen in time.
"Where is he?"
"You're gonna have to be specific. Luciano or Nas?"
"Nas."
"On the run. Not for long, though. Luciano likes it when his game has some hope that they're going to be the first to escape. Give him two more days and he'll be back here without a tongue or something." He signaled the bartender and asked for something I didn't catch.
The way Matteo had said it was as if it was a normal occurrence. Of course, I knew it was a normal occurrence, but it didn't make it any right. Nas didn't even say much.
"And Luciano?" I asked, making a last-minute decision on trying to get Nas out of the mess I had created. It was something I wasn't sure would work but was worth a shot.
"His office. Careful, he doesn't like unexpected guests, especially ones he's livid at." I rolled my eyes at him, standing up. He only chuckled, giving me a mock salute.
As I walked up the stairs, I heard loud cheers as the music changed and I found Vera dancing against a pole with so much body control and flair.
I would have stayed to watch, but I had to talk to Luciano before things got out of hand, if they hadn't.
As soon as I reached the door to the office, I stopped in front of it and thought about chickening out for over three minutes.
It wouldn't be so hard, right? It didn't have to be. I would knock, he would open, I would tell him my decision and give him a condition. Best case scenario, he would say yes. Worst case scenario, he would say no.
At the count of three, I would knock. I wouldn't back down. Not now.
1, 2—
The door swung open and I was almost bulldozed to the ground by his chest.
Luckily, his quick reflexes came in handy as he grabbed my descending body mid-fall, setting me in place as he drew air through his teeth like he was reining himself in.
"I was just about to knock—"
"What the fuck do you think you're doing here after everything?" I flinched at the deep bark accompanying his words.
"I—"
"Get in. Now." He opened the door, walking back in and waiting for me to walk in.
Much like the first time, I hesitated before taking a step inside the office.
"Listen—"
"You have been going around asking the most random drunks on the planet about my past, expecting them to keep quiet about it? Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
"I didn't know it was that big of a deal—"
"Oh, but you found out when that idiot told you what happened last time, didn't you?" He was seething. Neither of us was having a seat. It would be too comfortable for a conversation like this.
"I honestly don't get it. Asking about one or two people you've dated is very different from telling people where you are when you don't want to be found. Nas didn't give me the details, I swear. I don't even know a name of one of the people you've dated."
"Why didn't you ask me?" He was slowly pulling out a trump card, and I knew it.
"Would you have told me?" I asked.
"If you didn't think I wanted you to know, why would you still press for answers from other people?" There it was, the trump card. The "I have a point you can't poke holes in" card.
I wasn't having it.
"Well, how do you expect me to agree to your offer if I don't know a thing about the people you've been with and where they are now? How can I be sure they're not dead with everyone tight-lipped about the whole situation?!"
"Will you get off my fucking back at least, since you're going to say no?"
"I have not told you my decision yet." I pointed out and shook my head, letting out a sigh. "This isn't going anywhere. We're adults, aren't we? We can resolve this."
He also sighed loudly, rubbing his forehead and loosening his tie. Wearing a suit in a club was questionable, but I wasn't going to say it. We were on our way to setting things straight.
"And how do you suggest we do that, genius?" I didn't miss the hint of jeer in the last word, but I decided not to dwell on that.
"I came here to strike a deal." He chuckled at my words, obviously in disbelief.
"A deal? With me?" He sounded baffled. I nodded.
"Let's hear it."
"I'm going to agree to this whole setup. I'll sign the contract and be your girlfriend, right?" He nodded to clarify the title. "Okay. Girlfriend. But you'll do something for me in return."
"Whatever I'll be doing for you will be stated in the contract. You will be getting nothing more from me."
"Will you just listen?" I placed my hands on my waist, looking up at the ceiling in annoyance.
"I have no plans to. We are not striking a deal."
I wasn't going to give up that easily. I would have to say it anyway.
"If I sign the contract, you'll let Nas go."
"No."
"You will."
"I will not."
"You have three days to make your decision."
"I already said—"
"Goodnight."
I was surprised when he let me leave without a word. I went down the stairs and watched the last few seconds of Vera kneeling close to where the crowd had gathered, Matteo slipping a large wad of cash behind the band of her shiny thong.
~~
Three days later, at exactly 11:59 p.m., I got a text from an unknown number while scrolling through the endless stream of social media. The text only had one word and it had me smiling like a maniac in bed as Vera's soft, sleepy breaths filled the space as a background noise.
I read the one-word text over and over, grinning.
Deal.