I let Rhett know his behavior is accepted. “Oh, we can get you in there, just don’t fan girl in the locker rooms, that’s our safe space. Anywhere else is free rein.” He nods his agreement and we all walk into the facility with our heads in swivels.
Right as we’re approaching the door I get a text.
Alex
We just landed.
Where should we meet?
Me
Marcello sent a car. They know where to take you.
Alex
Should I be concerned?
Me
I don’t know. Should you?
I don’t like how he’s acting.
But if anyone can scare the truth out of someone and simultaneously read them like a book, it’s Marcello.
Alex
In the car now. See you there?
Me
I’m at practice. The driver will take you to Marcello. I’ll be there once we’re finished here.
Don’t fuck around with Marcello, or you will find out how he’s earned his name.
He doesn’t really have a name…
Well, one that everyone calls him, but the rumors that float around about him are all true. And people are always stupid enough not to believe them or try to see if they’re just that.
Rumors.
They’re cold hard facts.
He’ll brand your whole body with his signature brand, and if the dumbasses survive that then decide to go back into the real world and fuck up again, then he comes after your organs. The craziest part to me is him not selling said organs on the black market. He fucking donates them. He uses his fucking jet to cartaround his damn organ nurse, and she hand delivers them to hospitals.
Of course, people would think that’s made up. Why wouldn’t they? Even when being part of “the rich” I still scream, “eat the rich” anytime I can. But when it comes to Marcello Barone, that’s one rich man I don’t mind walking this planet.
He’s a good man underneath it all.
A traumatized man, yes. But he didn’t let that trauma turn him into what his father was. The greed that I’ve seen envelop men when they get a single taste of success is a scary thing to watch.
Even teammates. They sign these multi-million dollar contracts, gamble, and pay for anything and everything you can imagine, and are broke by the time they’re injured and unable to play anymore. Or they can technically play, but what team will fork out money on someone who’s been injured when they have fresh new prospects coming out of college yearly?
None of them.
I follow Nash into Coach’s office, knowing that he’ll be in there doing whatever the hell coaches do before practice. He knocks, and we hear the okay to come in from the other side of the door. Rhett stays outside the door, keeping watch.
I don’t think anyone would come into the Devil’s facilities and do anything to us, but then again, I really didn’t think anyone would have the balls to go into Club Onyx and take my two favorite people from us, but they did.