I told Jack, “This place has been my mom’s pride and joy for thirty-seven years. She opened it right after I was born, and my brother Romy and I grew up in the apartment upstairs. She still lives there, but it wasn’t safe for her tonight, so she’s staying at Romy’s place.” I sighed and pushed my hair off my forehead as I looked around me. “Seeing it like this feels like a knife to the heart, which I’m sure is exactly what Greco intended.”
“I don’t get it,” Jack said. “You left town and shut down your business. What more does he want?”
“To make an example of me, because I pushed back when he tried to take over. This is a warning to anyone who might even think about crossing him.”
“That’s not right!” I turned to look at him, because he sounded so angry. “It’s even worse that he involved your mom.”
“I know.” I took off my overcoat and suit jacket, and as I rolled back my sleeves I said, “I’m going to be busy here for a while, but there’s a comfortable couch in my mom’s office at the back of the building. Go get some sleep. It’s not even light out yet, and you must be tired.”
I opened the utility closet and pulled out a large push broom while he went through the door marked “Employees Only.” I was fully aware that he might keep on going right out the back door, but I didn’t have the energy to try to control Jack right now—not when I was feeling defeated, exhausted, and overwhelmed by all this destruction.
Shockingly, he returned a couple of minutes later. He’d taken off his suit jacket and rolled back his sleeves, and he was carrying a broom and dust pan while dragging a big garbage can behind him. “I put two trash bags in the bin,” he said, as he left the can by the door and went to scoop up the pile of glass I’d formed. “I hope that’s enough. I was worried about the shards cutting through, so I almost went with three.”
“What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m helping you clean up.”
“Yeah, but why?”
He straightened up and turned to look at me. “This isn’t for you, it’s for your mom. As someone who was raised by a single mother, this hurts my heart. I want to help make it right.”
That stirred up a lot of emotions in me, but I just nodded and said, “Thanks, Jack.” Then we both went to work.
9
Jack
Adriano had to be completely exhausted after driving all night, but he and I worked on the bar for three solid hours. He didn’t sit down until every last shard of glass, piece of broken furniture, and drop of alcohol had been cleaned up.
Even then, he didn’t relax. He retrieved his tablet from the car and started shopping for alcohol, replacement furniture, and a new window. The fact that he wanted the replacement glass to be bulletproof was chilling.
Meanwhile, I brewed a pot of coffee and put together a simple breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs in the kitchen. He thanked me when I put a plate in front of him, but he didn’t look up from the tablet. I removed it from his hands as gently as I could and said, “Please eat something. We’ve been together about twelve hours now, and all you’ve put in your body during that time was a cup of gas station coffee.”
He muttered, “I’m too tired to argue,” and tucked into the breakfast.
I sat down with the tablet and started looking through the local furniture wholesaler’s website that he’d pulled up. After a minute, I showed him the screen and said, “These chairs are nice, and they’re similar to the old ones.”
“They’re the ones I liked, too. I suppose I should ask my mom before I order them, though. She’s very particular about this place.”
“She’s done a beautiful job on it,” I said, as I looked around.
The walls were a soothing shade of deep blue, the ceilings were high, and the floor was polished wood. The best part, though, were the clusters of black and white photos on the walls. There were different themes. One set had been taken in the bar, with gorgeous portraits of the customers and a beautiful woman that had to be Adriano’s mom. Another set had probably been taken around the modest neighborhood, and a third consisted of artistic shots of old neon signs in various states of disrepair.
“Thank god those men didn’t get around to smashing the photos,” I said. “They’re really something special.”
“Thanks. I could have reprinted them if they’d gotten damaged, but I’m glad I don’t have to.”
“Wait, did you take those pictures?”
“Yeah, a long time ago. They’re all at least ten to fifteen years old.”
“You have an incredible gift, Reno.”
He shrugged and said, “It’s a fairly useless talent, that and drawing. Though the latter did come in handy recently.” He grinned a little as he pulled what looked like a journal from his laptop case. Then he took a folded sheet of paper from between its pages and handed it to me. It was surprising to come face-to-face with myself when I unfolded it. “That’s how I found you,” he explained. “I left those flyers at every bar in San Francisco.”
“I’m sorry to make you go through that. This drawing is amazing, though. I’m just surprised you drew such a flattering likeness, since you had to be furious with me.”
His grin got a little wider. “What was I going to do, add a pair of horns? That’s exactly what you look like.”