At 9:30 p.m. They arrived at Mark's building, Vitale silently got out of the car, without saying a word, Domenico got out of the car, and decided to wait for him outside, he preferred not to enter.
Vitale walked in with a firm stride, his confidence palpable as he climbed the stairs. When he reached Mark's door, he noticed that it was locked, sounds came from inside, like murmurs and a light knock.
With a mix of curiosity and determination, Vitale decided to knock on the door, his hand firm. The wait felt endless.
Finally, Mark Blaze opened the door, and Vitale's first impression was one of surprise. Mark's expression was a reflection of exhaustion and frustration, as if he had been dealing with his own demons.
"So it's you, Vitale," Mark said, his voice sounding different, as if each word cost him a monumental effort.
Vitale noticed that in his right hand he was holding a bottle of whiskey, clearly in an advanced state of intoxication. The smell of alcohol wafted in even before Mark spoke.
"Listen, the job is done," Vitale said.
The tension in the air was palpable; Vitale knew it wasn't just about the job, but also the state he found Mark in. He wondered if that bottle had been his only company in the last few hours.
—Have you already solved it? —Mark said, taking a few steps toward his office with difficulty—. That seems perfect to me.
—That's what I said, it's already resolved. I was only going for the money—his voice sounded serious.
"Ah, the money of course," He opened a drawer and took out several wads. You talk about this.
Mark walked slowly toward Vitale, his unsteady gait revealing his condition. With an almost mechanical gesture, he handed her the money, barely murmuring, "Here you go." The breath of alcohol emanating from his mouth was almost palpable, a reminder of his excesses.
Vitale felt a mixture of revulsion and resignation as he clutched the bill. Without saying a word, he put it in his jacket with automatic movements, as if he were trying to get rid of the weight that transaction represented.
He turned around, feeling like every step toward the exit took him away not only from the place, but also from a conversation he knew would never happen.
Vitale left the building, feeling the traffic noises surround him again. He approached the parked car, where Domenico was waiting for him.
—Did he pay you? Domenico asked, his enthusiasm evident.
"Yes, three thousand dollars," Vitale responded, trying to sound casual.
—Wow! That's a fortune. I have a perfect place to celebrate. What do you think? —Domenico said.
—A place to celebrate? Vitale replied, raising an eyebrow. Which one are you referring to?
Domenico leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. I know a club that throws great parties, it also has different drinks from all over the city and an incredible atmosphere. You're going to love it.
Vitale hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. The idea of celebrating seemed appealing, but there was also something inside him that told him to be cautious.
"Get in the car," Domenico said, with a smile. We will go to the "Nottinpart" club.
"Okay," Vitale whispered, letting out a resigned sigh. You haven't changed in that regard.
As Domenico started the car, Vitale looked out the window, watching the city lights flash by. The night was quiet, the stars shone like little beacons in the dark sky, and the moon illuminated the path with its soft glow.
Finally, they arrived at the club. From the outside, "Nottinpart" looked vibrant; Purple and blue lights flickered and the sounds of music and laughter escaped through the open doors. The energy of the place was palpable.
Domenico and Vitale got out of the car, feeling the vibrant music of the club welcoming them. They walked to the entrance, paid their admission, and as they walked through the doors, they were greeted by an explosion of lights and sounds. The energy of the place was contagious; Laughter and conversations mixed with pulsating rhythms that made the ground vibrate.
"From what I see, Domenico already left to have fun." Vitale smiled as he watched his friend disappear into the crowd.
Vitale decided to seek his own refuge in the middle of that whirlwind. He walked over to the bar, where the atmosphere was a little quieter, and sat down on a worn leather stool. The bartender, a man with messy hair and a friendly smile, approached.
—What do I bring you? —the bartender asked, wiping a glass with a cloth.
"Just a glass of whiskey, please," Vitale responded, feeling like he needed something strong to relax.
While waiting for his drink, he looked around: couples dancing, groups of friends laughing and enjoying themselves.
Next to him, a man was having a few drinks. Noticing Vitale's arrival, he turned his head towards him with a friendly smile.
—What brings you here? —the man asked with a good attitude, leaning forward a little, as if he was really interested in the answer.
Vitale watched him briefly, noting the spark in his eyes and the way he seemed to enjoy the environment. He took his glass of whiskey that the bartender had served him and, after a sip, he responded:
"Nothing in particular, just enjoying the night," Vitale said, feeling the warmth of the whiskey begin to relax him a little more.
The man nodded, as if he perfectly understood the need to disconnect.
-What is your name? Are you alone? —the man asked, looking at him curiously.
Vitale raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by the number of questions.
—Do you always ask so many questions? —he responded, letting out a light sigh—. My name is Luca Vitale. And you?
The man smiled, as if curiosity was part of his charm.
—Are you Luca Vitale? "I'm sure I've heard that name..." the man said... his eyes shining with recognition.
Vitale watched him silently, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over him. With a determined gesture. He took his entire glass of whiskey and emptied it in one gulp.
—Ah, yes... you're the guy who worked with the mafia. TRUE? "You were arrested years ago... It's crazy to see you here, drinking in a club," he continued, his voice full of disbelief. Just look at yourself, you are free!
The mention of his past caused a series of questions to invade Vitale's mind. Who was that guy? How did she know so much about him?
"I see you know a little about the great Luca Vitale," Vitale said, flashing a confident smile. Enough of the jokes. Who the hell are you? How do you know my past?
Oliver shrugged, maintaining a nonchalant air as he fiddled with his bottle.
—Calm down, Luca. "Take it easy," he responded, with a soft voice that contrasted with the intensity of the situation. My name is Oliver Moon, I'm just a rock lover, nothing special.
Vitale watched him, trying to figure out if there was something more behind that relaxed façade.
—How do I know about you? "It's quite easy," Oliver continued, smiling knowingly. Before you were respected on the streets, and you worked for perhaps the most powerful mafia of the moment, under the command of Mr. Bellini. Although I think he's still taking charge...
Oliver's casual tone seemed to challenge Vitale, as if he were playing with fire. The club's music pulsed in the background, but his mind was focused on the stranger's words. Was he a friend or an enemy in disguise?