Max and I walk up the couple of steps to the private bar. The bottles glow with the neon lights lining the shelves. I take a seat, and Max does the same.
He drinks alcohol as if it’s water. That’s how I know he’s in a dark place.
Max has been like this for the two years I’ve known him. While I was on my way back to Russia after Giovanni tried to kill me, I saw him. He cornered me at the airport, demanding answers. Max was ready to kill me on the spot because he thought I was after Nina the entire time. I laughed in his face and explained everything to him. I’m not sure why I did. There’s just something about him—I feel compelled to tell him everything about myself without any restraint.
And I did.
Many drinks later, he and I were fast friends.
I wish I could have him by my side at all times, but Giovanni would never allow it. As much as he loves Nina, he’d blow her brother’s brains out if he knew Max were with me.
Or maybe he’d cut off his ear. I’m not sure if he still does that shit.
“Vodka,” I tell the bartender.
Watching the man pour a shot, Max lifts his finger and orders one too.
“How’s Nina?” I ask about his sister as I bring the sweaty glass to my lips. The burning taste of it in my throat wakes me up.
“She’s good. I don’t think she likes being pregnant very much. It’s funny. Every time the baby kicks she calls our mom to ask if something’s wrong.”
I can’t help but laugh. I never got to know Nina very much, but I didn’t peg her as a damsel in distress. Maybe that’s just a side effect of her wanting to protect her baby with her entire being.
“How does Giovanni manage living two different lives?” I ask, curious.
“Right now, he doesn’t, but that’s only because Mira isn’t here yet. Until he has a son, I don’t think he plans on bringing his work home. Don’t ask me how the fuck he’ll manage that, but it’s what he wants.”
“That couldn’t be me. Son or daughter, their first toy will be a water gun so they understand how to aim and hold the trigger.”
Max leans his weight on the bar and gives me a dirty look. “What a great father you’ll be someday.”
I chuckle and knock him on the head. “No kids, I’m just fucking around.”
“Bratva would go to someone who isn’t in your family—is that what you want?”
“No, but I don’t want a wife or kids. It also won’t be my problem when I’m six feet under.”
Max tilts his head to the side and downs his shot. The muscles in his jaw tighten in reaction to the burn. “That’s kind of dark, man, I’m not going to lie.” His hand brushes down his hair. He used to have curly hair that dropped to his forehead, but he shaved it into a fade. It makes his facial features stand out a lot more: narrow nose, scruffy beard, and full eyebrows.
“What, like you can see yourself with a family? Didn’t you just tell your father you refuse to marry?”
He cringes at my words, though they weren’t meant to be insulting. “I wanted that. Shit, man, I had the start of it. I wanted the cookie-cutter future. A wife to come home to after a long day, three kids, maybe more, running around the yard playing games. But the moment I created all those plans in my head, everything vanished.”
I watch him with wide eyes. He’s never told me what happened to him; he just follows by my side. Maybe he bonded with me quickly because we were both dealt a shitty hand.
“You know, when you find that person, there’s no one else in the world who can amount to them. From the way she laughs, the way she picks the tomatoes off her sandwiches, to the way she demands her clothes to be ironed before she wears them. And don’t even get me started on her lifestyle. Everything had to bePrada this, Prada that. God, she was the most stuck-up woman I’ve ever met, and I loved her for it.”
“Another, please,” I tell the bartender as I listen to Max pour his heart out to me. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to get a drink, but I’ll listen because this is the first sign of emotion he’s ever shown.
“She was so difficult to understand too. Her accent was so fucking strong it took me months to figure her out. It would’ve taken longer if she weren’t manic as fuck. I knew everything about her because she didn’t know how to shut up.”
“I can relate. Sloane speaks before her mind catches up with her tongue.”
He nods. “Listen while you still can,” he says as if I could do anything else but listen to her. I try—I really do.
“It’s hard to ignore her, trust me.”
He laughs genuinely, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. “What is your plan with her?”