Carmine leans his elbows on the bar and takes a long drink from his glass of whiskey. A jazz trio plays standards on the stage behind us and I feel out of place in the Oak Club. Even though I’m a guest of Carmine’s and I’m wearing a suit more expensive than most people’s mortgage, it’s like everyone’s staring at me, like they know where I belong.
On the street somewhere far from a place like this.
I hunch forward and try to focus on the satisfying bite of alcohol on my tongue but it’s not enough. Carmine swirls his glass, and it’s like he doesn’t notice that we’re surrounded by people that hate us. We’re trapped in this hall of power, and he sits there drinking like somehow we belong here even if we’re only interlopers that took the right to show up and sit on these fancy stools by force.
But it feels good to see him again after the struggle of the last few weeks.
“How’s the case going?” he asks after the usual small talk’s been exhausted.
“Going good. I think we’re getting close.”
“Yeah? You want to share some details?”
“I’m not sure I have any worth sharing just yet.” I grimace as I adjust myself. The broken rib’s still healing, but the doctor assured me I’d be fine with some rest. Only I’m not sure when I’ll actually get to sit down and get myself straightened out, which means this thing’s going to be bothering me for a lot longer.
“Tell me something anyway.”
“Sara’s going through some documents we found and I think it’ll prove that Nicolas didn’t do those killings, but it might implicate some other people.” I glance at him, eyebrows up. “Important people.”
“How important are we talking? Senators? Congressmen?”
“Cops.”
He nods slowly. “Cops. It’s always the fucking cops, isn’t it? Them and their fucking blue line.”
“I don’t know how high up and I don’t know how many, but I can tell you they’ve been trying to get us to back off since we started looking into this.”
“Typical fucking police covering their asses.”
“We don’t know what went down at that motel for sure just yet, but I think we’re close.”
“Good. Keep it up. When you find out what really happened, come to me. I’ll handle the rest.”
I sip my drink and stare at the bar top. “There are other things. Other complications.”
“Let me guess. You and Sara.”
I grunt and nod once. “I’m not sure when it happened.”
“Pretty sure it was back at the wedding.”
I give him a look. “That was a one-time thing. A one-night stand. Nothing important. This is something more.”
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Never thought you were the kind of guy to settle down.”
“I never thought you were either, but you found Brice.”
“And it looks like you found Sara.”
“Not exactly.” I sigh and push the glass away. “Whatever might be brewing between us, it’ll never happen.”
“Why not?”
I stare at my hands. My rough, dirty hands. I can dress up in expensive clothes all I want, but I’ll always be what I am. “She hates people like me. She wishes I had nothing to do with her.”
He laughs quietly. “Sounds familiar.”
“There’s not much I can do about it. The girl’s fucking stubborn.”
“So you’re giving up?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Carmine leans back and crosses his arms. I glance at him as he grins at me for a long moment and I regret mentioning this. The shit with Sara, that’s all private, and half of it is pure speculation. We’ve slept together, we’ve had our moments, and there’s a feeling building inside of me, but I don’t know what she’s thinking or what she really wants. Maybe this really is only sex and comfort for her, and everything else is a product of my imagination. A hallucination, a cheap trick. I could be fooling myself into thinking there’s something real between us, but it feels so fucking big and just past my fingertips, like it’s right there beyond my grasp.
“You want some advice?” Carmine asks.
“Absolutely not.”
“Here’s what you have to do. It’s going to blow your mind, but you can handle it. You ready?”
“Not interested.”
“You have to talk to her.” He leans closer. “That’s all.”
“Thanks, wow, you really did just turn my world upside down.”
He laughs and holds his glass up. “Here’s to communicating like grown-ass adults.”
“Here’s to you not understanding the nuances of my situation.”
We both drink.
“Why don’t you stay here and have a few more on my tab?” Carmine asks as he pushes away his glass and stands. “I have to go meet Brice for dinner. The staff won’t kick you out so long as you stick to the bar and don’t make a fuss.”
“I think it’d rather throw myself off that fancy fucking tree than sit around in here for longer than is necessary.”
“You really hate this place, don’t you?”
“I don’t belong.” I stand and we walk out together slowly, heading back into the massive atrium lobby. “This place makes me feel wrong. The way the people act, the way the staff talks to us, it’s just—it doesn’t fit.”
“This place means nothing,” Carmine says, looking around. “It’s all show. It’s all facade. I’m starting to see what’s underneath it, and I’m telling you, Angelo, it’s all rot.”
“Yeah? You think? I know rot. I’ve seen rot. This shit’s pretty nice.” I run my fingers down a gleaming railing and gesture at the giant oak tree growing in the middle of the lobby. “That’s almost magic.”
“It’s all show.” Carmine jabs a finger into my chest. “You have more than any of these petty fuckers will ever have. You’ve got heart and blood and muscles and brains. You had to earn your place while most of the rich fuckheads in here were handed everything. Hell, even I was born into my father’s family. I struggled, but not like you did. You think it’s hard to stay rich once you’re fucking rich? It’s really not. It’s a lot harder to be born with nothing and to end up with something, and look at you now.”
“Tell that to Sara. When she looks at me, all she can see is the street kid. All she can see is the blood and sweat.”
“If that’s a bad thing to her then maybe you really should let it go and find someone else. Angelo, you’ve got to accept the man you were because you’re still him and you always will be. You’ve got to let go of how everyone looks at you. Do you really think I give a fuck that the snobby cocksuckers in here see me and think I’m beneath them because I’m a Don?”
“You don’t seem to mind.”
“Not one tiny bit.” He turns to me and squeezes my arm. “You know why? Because I know what I am. I know how hard I worked to get here. I know how much blood’s on my hands, and what that blood means.”
I give him a tight smile. “Thanks for the pep talk, brother. But the fact remains that Sara’s parents have her thinking I’m nothing but a lowlife, and they’re not wrong. I am a lowlife.”
“I’d rather be a lowlife than a prissy little shit.” Carmine sighs and turns away. “Just don’t let that stop you from taking what you want. That’s the thing. These bastards, they have everything, but they still want more. If you’re going to get a piece, you need to fight them off and grab hold of what you need with both hands and rip it from them. Leave them bloody and begging in the end.”
We reach the far side of the lobby and head into the night. The valet goes out for my car while Carmine’s driver pulls up and waits for him to get in.
“I’ll consider what you said.” I shake Carmine’s hand. “And you think about what I told you about this situation. We’re dealing with dirty cops, and I don’t think it’s just a few low-level uniforms. I’m thinking this goes up high.”
“I’m familiar with the Dallas police at this point. If there’s something I can do, I’ll do it.”
“I’ll keep you updated then.”
“Good luck. And hey, Angelo, fuck these people, right?”
Now that I can agree with. “Fuck ‘em.”
He gets into his car and the driver glides off.
I watch him go before turning back to the Oak Club. The doors are closed to me now—if I tried to get in, they’d throw me on my ass. This place is the beating heart of the elite’s social circle, and more shady business happens in that place between supposedly decent businessmen than happens in rundown motels like the Two Lane.
Carmine’s right. I let the way Sara looked at me after her parents got in her head fuck with my own self-image. I know what I am and I know what I’m capable of, and if I wanted to burn all this shit to the ground, I’d make it happen.
But I don’t. The tree in there, it’s cool as hell, and it’d be a shame if it went up in a blaze.
As the valet returns with my rental, my phone rings. Sara’s on the other end, sounding breathless. “I found them.”
“You found who?”
“Them. I know who did it. I figured it out, Angelo.”
My heart starts racing. I knew we were close—but I didn’t know we were already there. “Hold tight. Where are you?”
“In the hotel.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be there soon.”
“Angelo. I know who did it.” She laughs, sounding giddy. “And we’re going to ruin them.”
Sara’s pacing back and forth, waving her phone in the air. “It took me forever to read and transcribe those freaking pictures,” she says. “Seriously, never, ever let me do something so stupid again. I should’ve made a photocopy.”
“But now it’s done and you think you found something.”
“Oh, I don’t think it.” She stops and grins at me and taps her phone. “I know I did. Listen to this.” I sit on the couch, legs crossed, and watch as her face lights up. She clears her throat and starts to read.
Misty: So you saw the vans pull up and what happened next?
Wally: These guys got out. Like, I don’t know, twenty of them. All in black and carrying these big guns.
Misty: What kind of guns?
Wally: Big ones. Like, rifles. Machine guns. I don’t know, I’m not from Texas, I don’t even like guns.
Misty: Okay, big guns, I got it. What happened next?
Wally: They ran up the steps to that room and gathered around it. I was standing down near the office smoking and couldn’t pull my eyes away, it was so fucking insane. I kept thinking I should call the police, but then—
Misty: Then what?
Wally: They kicked the door down. Someone threw something inside and there was this loud thump, and this crazy bright light, and they’re all yelling, police, police, police, and someone else was shouting back at them in what I think was like Spanish or something weird. Then the shooting started.
Misty: Shooting. I was told there was no shooting.
Wally: Whoever told you that is a fucking liar. There was a lot of shooting. It all happened at once, like an explosion, and the guys in black went absolutely nuts. They stormed into the room, bang, bang, bang, you know what I mean, just shooting like crazy. So many bullets. I hit the ground, you know, because I’m smart like that.
Misty: Very smart. What next?
Wally: Things got weird. I couldn’t see it all from where I was but I heard some of it. The shooting stopped, it lasted maybe ten seconds, but it felt like forever. Then the guys in black were swarming the place, making calls, talking to each other. They were lingering, you know what I mean? I got up and started toward them because I thought maybe I could help, but one guy pointed a gun at me and told me to get the fuck back inside. He told me to forget I ever saw anything.
Misty: How did he sound? What did he look like?
Wally: Texas accent. White guy, short hair. Like a guy from around here.
Misty: Okay, a local guy. What next?
Wally: Well, I went back into the office. I mean, the guy with the gun just told me to get inside, so I listened.
Misty: Smart.
Wally: Right.
Misty: What next? Did they talk to you anymore?
Wally: That’s the weird thing. I expected more police, but then there was nothing. The guys got back into their vans and just… drove off. Dead silence. And it stayed like that for a while until you folks showed up.
Sara finishes reading and looks up at me. I stare back at her, dumbfounded.
One part of the transcript rings in my head like a gong. Police, police, police.
“I’m not sure what I just heard,” I say slowly, heart pulsing in my ears as I try to digest it all.
She waves her phone in the air. “Angelo! Think about it!”
I slowly get up off the couch, cradling my side, and walk to the window. “All right, so a lot of guys showed up. There was a firefight, which I kind of figured… but the police didn’t respond to that. It sounds like they were working as a unit, with legitimate tactics and gear… and they were yelling…” I turn to face her, eyebrows raised, head pounding. “You think it was the cops themselves the whole time?”
“Yes!” She laughs and there’s a manic edge to her voice. “Think about it. Who has the most to lose in this situation? The police! They’re trying to protect their own.”
“What’s your theory then? The cops just rolled up and murdered those cartel guys out of nowhere? I don’t get it.”
She shakes her head. “I think they went in for a drug bust. I bet they didn’t realize there were so many men inside and there weren’t any actual drugs. I think they kicked down that door expecting to find some heroin or cocaine or whatever, and instead, the cartel guys started shooting, and the cops shot back, and a lot of men died inside. It was a bloodbath, like the cops ran in there and executed everyone, because they kind of did. And because the whole damn country hates the police right now, they decided to cover it up, especially when a very convenient fall guy appeared out of nowhere. They bought off all the other employees but didn’t get to Wally before Detective Vance did her little interview.”
“But they got to him eventually, that’s why he was so scared.” A cold rage rolls down my spine. “The cops murdered those cartel members and instead of calling it self-defense and making it public, they decide to toss Nicolas under the bus and blamed him for it. All for fucking public relations.”
“Exactly. They paid off everyone working and threatened the rest. They made the interview Misty did with Wally disappear. Misty knows what happened, but she’s a cop too, so who’s she going to side with?”
“Fuck.” I shake my head. “That’s it then. The blue fucking wall. They’re closing ranks to protect themselves. They’re going to let Nicolas rot in prison to avoid some bad fucking headlines.”
“Really bad headlines, but yeah, pretty much.”
I pace back and forth, feeling about the way Sara looks. My whole life, cops have been fucking with me, bending the law to fit their narrative, and none of this is surprising but it’s all so ugly and bleak. “I shouldn’t be so fucking mad, but god damn, it’s disgusting. They screwed up, they rolled into a bad situation and made it worse, and they refuse to face any scrutiny over it. And some expendable, worthless criminal gets to go away for life.”
“Angelo,” Sara says softly.
The anger is white-hot now, nearly overwhelming. “No, you heard that piece of shit detective. Nicolas didn’t kill those cartel guys, but he’s not innocent, so why not throw him away? That’s how they see all of us, including me. Yeah, I know, don’t give me that fucking look. We break the law and that makes us monsters. We know the risks, right? But you’re right, we do know the risks, and we assume that if we’re going down, it’s for something we actually did, not some trumped-up bullshit, all because we’re worthless trash. All because the world we were born into demands blood and sacrifice if we’re going to get a piece of anything.”
“Angelo,” Sara says, harder this time, and comes toward me. “You’re not worthless trash.”
I stare at her and I’m not sure if she knows what she’s saying, but I close the distance between us. She sucks in a breath as she backs away and bumps up against the wall. I pin her there, staring into her eyes, anger raging in my chest like a forest fire.
“I know I’m not,” I say and my lips are so close to hers. “I know Nicolas isn’t either. I know what I’ve had to do just to survive, all because of the shit circumstances I was born into. I know I’m not a monster, but do you?”
She says nothing for long, painful seconds. “What do you want from me, Angelo?”
“I want you to admit that the supposed good guys are going to throw an innocent man behind bars for life. I want you to understand that there is no black and no white but an ugly shade of gray. Nothing’s obvious, nothing’s certain, and you can keep on thinking that my guys and my people and I are all monsters, but the real monsters are killing with no repercussions and ruining lives to cover it all up.”
“I know that, okay?” Her voice is angry, defiant. “You think I don’t see it?”
“I think you’re so poisoned by your parents that you don’t know what you see.”
She shoves me back, both hands on my chest. She heaves, glaring at me, teeth clenched together. “Don’t bring them into this.”
“Fine,” I say and move right back in front of her. She sucks in sharply and her fingers dig into my arms. “Tell me you don’t want this. Go ahead, say the words. I’m sick of dancing around how I feel.”
“How do you feel?” she whispers.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you since the second I saw you.”
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
I tilt her chin. I stare into her eyes. “Want can turn into more. I can feel it. Can you?”
She says nothing. Her lips part. Those perfect lips. Her small, white teeth. Her scared, sad eyes. I lean closer and she closes the gap between us.
I kiss her hard and grip her hips and hold her against me, tired of pretending like this isn’t all I think about, like she’s not the whole reason I can’t let go.
