“My brother might be willing to relocate, but my mom’s stubborn as hell. She loves her bar and her regulars, and she’s been building that business for close to four decades. There’s no way she’d just walk away from it.”
“Even if staying here ends up costing you your life?”
“It’s not that cut and dried.”
“It is from where I’m sitting,” Jack told me. “If that bar is the only thing tying your family to Vegas, I’ll go burn it down myself to save Greco the trouble! Then you can pack up your family and get out of harm’s way.”
“A word of advice? Maybe don’t lead off with burning down the bar when you meet my mom,” I said, as I turned the key in the ignition. He just sighed at that, and as I pulled out of the parking lot I told him, “I’m doing the best I can here, Jack.”
“But you don’t even have a plan. Greco was obviously trying to lure you back to town when he sent his people to smash up the bar, and what did you do? You took the bait.”
“I never should have run away in the first place. It made me look weak and cowardly, so now Greco thinks he can walk all over me,” I said. “And actually, this conversation is making me realize I do have a plan. I need to strike back, as hard as I can. It’s what a man like Greco understands, and it’s the only thing that’ll get him to back down.”
Jack muttered, “That’s literally the worst plan ever in the history of plans,” and went back to staring out the window.
When we reached my brother’s apartment, I dodged the awkwardness of defining Jack’s and my relationship by not even trying. Instead, I said, “Mom and Romy, I’d like you to meet Jack Granger. I brought him with me from San Francisco, and he helped me clean up the bar this morning. Jack, please say hello to my mother, Amanda Russo, and my kid brother Romeo Russo.”
During the introductions, I studied my family. Romy was his usual sunshiny self, but Mom seemed a bit off. I tried to figure out why and looked closer. Her long, light brown hair was still damp from a shower, and she was wearing one of Romy’s UNLV T-shirts with her usual jeans and boots. The shirt was big on her, so that might have been why she seemed so thin. She looked tired too, not surprisingly after being up most of the night. I felt guilty for the stress this had caused her.
“Everyone calls me Romy,” my brother was saying. He smiled and shook Jack’s hand while he did a quick assessment of his unexpected houseguest. Jack had managed to put himself back together flawlessly, and no one would ever guess he’d spent the night in that suit.
“And you can call me Mandy,” my mom chimed in, as she took a turn looking Jack over and shaking his hand. By their reactions, it was obvious they assumed we were a couple, and I wasn’t going to correct them—not right now, anyway.
Jack had stopped sulking and instead was laying on the charm and charisma. He smiled at them and said, “It’s an absolute pleasure. Reno goes on and on about you both, especially you, Romy. I’ve never met a prouder big brother.”
My mom beamed at him, and then she said, “Thanks for cleaning up the bar. I was going to tackle it this afternoon, but I’m glad it’s done.”
“Yeah, it’s all taken care of,” I told her, as I shifted a heavy shopping bag in my arms and led the way to the kitchen. “I brought lunch from Martino’s, and after we eat I want to show you some tables and chairs to replace the ones that were broken. Jack and I selected a nice set, but I want to make sure you like them before I set up delivery. I also placed a liquor order with your usual distributor, and the front window is being replaced as we speak. A couple of my men are at the bar overseeing the installation, and I’ve scheduled teams around the clock to keep an eye on the place.”
“That’s great,” my mom said, as Romy grabbed some plates from the cupboard and we gathered around his vintage kitchen table. “But you don’t really think it’s necessary to have people watch the bar, do you? That man you’re feuding with already sent his message, so to speak. Why would he come back?”
“I’m not sure he will, but my people might as well keep an eye on things. They’re all still getting paid during this temporary pause in my business, so why not give them something to do?” Someone knocked on the front door just then, and I stopped unpacking the deli containers and asked my brother, “Are you expecting someone?”
Romy looked guilty as he told me, “Ford said he’d drop by. He heard about the bar and called me to make sure Mom was okay.”
I frowned at that and called after him as he went to answer the door, “Why would my ex call you and not me to ask about Mom?”
My mother answered for him. “Maybe because the last time you spoke to him, you called Ford a stuck up prick.”
“I’ve spoken to him since then and called him worse.”
My mom ignored that and said, “Besides, why wouldn’t he call Romy? You know those two became good friends while you were dating, and just because you broke up with him doesn’t mean we all did.”
“Yes, it does. That’s exactly what it means.” I shot my mom a look and added, “Don’t tell me you’ve been palling around with him, too.”
She shrugged at that and began peeling the lids off the takeout containers I was lining up on the table. “I wouldn’t describe it as palling around, exactly. He comes by the bar once or twice a week to say hello, and last Sunday he took me to brunch, because a new place opened up that we both wanted to try.”
I muttered, “Fuck my life,” under my breath as Ford breezed into the kitchen. He looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht in his pink polo shirt, white pants, and expensive sunglasses, which he moved to the top of his bleached blond head.
He went straight to my mom and gave her a big hug as he asked, “Are you really okay, Mandy? Romy said you were, but I wanted to see you for myself.” He was such a suck-up.
“I’m perfectly fine, sweetie,” she said, as she patted his back. “Don’t worry about me.”
I was struck by the extremely immature thought that my mother liked my ex better than me. Well, why wouldn’t she? He was every parent’s dream son-in-law, a rich, handsome doctor.
When he finally let go of my mother, he turned his attention to Jack and flashed his perfect smile as he said, “Hi, there. I’m Doctor Stanford Gaines, but my friends call me Ford. And you are?” I’d been right to call him a fucking stuck up prick, dropping his title like that for literally no reason.
Jack’s response was priceless. He still oozed charm, but there were daggers in his eyes as he squared his shoulders, shook Ford’s hand, and said, “Hi, Stanford. I’m Jack. Just Jack.” I cleared my throat to cover a laugh. It was such a subtle way of calling out Ford for title-dropping, while letting him know they weren’t friends and weren’t about to be.