“Go on,” Luca says. “Knock yourself out. Don’t focus on hitting the target. Learn how to control the gun first.”
The recoil isn’t significant, but enough to make hitting the target tricky. At least with the first clip. With the next one, I start hitting the right spot, and with the last bullet, I manage to hold my hands still.
Luca approaches the wall and brings back something bigger. “This is Dante’s favorite pistol, 92 Beretta.”
“I thought he liked his gold revolver best.”
“Out of all the revolvers, yes, but if you give him a choice, he’ll always take this.”
The recoil on the 92 is significant, but because the pistol is heavier, I find it easier to shoot straight. A few times, I see Dante’s or Frank’s head instead of the target. I put the gun down immediately. My mind tricks me, urging me to choose even though I have no choice.
I’m not sure how much time has passed. I’m too engrossed in the task at hand to check my phone. Luca keeps bringing different guns for me to try, and fires a few rounds at the next station making a sieve out of the target. It’s Dante who stops the fun when he calls.
I take my earmuffs off to answer. “Yes?”
“Are you fucking stupid?! You wanna be deaf?” Luca drags me out through the emergency exit.
“Where are you?” Dante asks, his tone clipped.
“At a shooting range. Luca’s teaching me,” I can’t contain my excitement.
“People I work with want to meet you. Can you come over? I’ll tell Luca to bring you here.”
I glance at Luca, then back at the emergency exit. I’d much rather keep shooting, taking my contradicting feelings out on the paper targets, but no matter how many holes I make, there’s no changing the facts. No altering the past, present, or future. All I have left with Dante are a few weeks, months at the most. “Yes, but I need to change. I’ll let Luca know. We should be there in an hour.”
Luca clenches his jaw, kicking the trash can. “They’re fucking idiots, Layla. Don’t go there.”
“Let me talk to him,” Dante says. “And baby, just so you know, we’ve got eight hookers here. The V brothers...”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think you’re cheating on me with hookers. Frank makes his money the same way you do. You think I don’t realize what your business meetings look like? I’ll be there soon.”
I hand the phone to Luca, watching his jaw work. “Why the fuck do you want her there? They’ll holler every time she snaps!” He kicks the trash can again while listening to Dante. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
An hour later, Luca parks the car in the underground parking lot, taking his phone out to call Dante. For the twentieth time, I check in the rear-view mirror whether the red lipstick covers the cut on my lip. The club is mainly lit by strobe lights cutting through the darkness, but dimmed halogens hang above the booth. I don’t want to explain to Dante’s people who hit me.
Lipstick and concealer hide the cut well, so no explanation is necessary. I run my fingers through my hair, draping it over one shoulder, then leave the car, straightening out the canary-yellow dress.
“If they start fucking with you, I’ll take you home.” Luca joins me with a cigarette in his lips. “Vince is bearable, but Vinn is an idiot. More so when he’s drunk.”
I smile, seeing Dante walk out of the elevator. “Three... two...” I count, looking into Luca’s dark eyes, “...one.” The smile on my lips grows wider. “It’s break time, Luca. Thank you for tonight. I expected us to kill each other, but when you’re not on your period, you’re bearable yourself.”
Dante’s arms wrap around my stomach. “How are you feeling, Star?”
I turn to kiss him. “Good. Luca helped a lot. I let it all out at the shooting range. How are you? You look like you need caffeine.”
He nods, glancing at Luca. “You can head back home, but if you want to stay, stay here.”
“I’ll stay. I’ll take her home when Vinn gets out of hand.”
Dante laces our fingers, pulling me toward the elevator. “They promised to behave. I can vouch for Vince, but not for Vinn. He’s unpredictable, young, and never filters his words. He wants to see you in action, so feel free to show him his place. Spades told him I’m hiding you because you’re sassy.”
“You wanted me here, so I’ll argue with him?” My good mood evaporates in a flash. “I’m not a circus monkey!” I storm out of the elevator.
“I wanted you to come because I wanted you close, Layla,” he says, stopping behind me when I’m already at the bar. “I thought you enjoy shooting guys down.”
“No, I don’t. I shouldn’t have to fight for respect. I’ve been doing it all my life. How could you think I’d enjoy arguing with some dimwit for his entertainment?!” I drop my clutch bag on the bar, waving the bartender over.
“Hey Layla, the usual, is it?” he asks, beaming.