Page 280 of The Tempted

“I know, I know. Come on, we’re going for a drive,” Anthony informed him, taking hold of his other arm. Together we escorted him back to Anthony’s truck. We pushed him into the back seat and I slid in beside him, pulling my gun from the back of my pants and aiming it at his head.

“What the fuck?” Vinny cried, staring into the rearview mirror as Anthony climbed into the front seat and lifted his eyes to meet his in the reflection.

“The man pointing the gun to your head is hanging on by a thread. He will not hesitate to shoot you. You’ll be dead before I can ask him not to, so listen close and give me what I need,” Anthony warned, and I pressed the barrel of my gun forcefully to his temple, for extra emphasis.

“I gave you everything I had, man, there’s nothing left,” Vinny said.

“Shut up and listen to what he has to say,” I bit out, hitting the locks on the door with my free hand. Anthony reached over the console and pulled an envelope from his glove box before twisting his body around so he was face to face with Vinny.

“There’s twenty thousand in there,” he stated. “It’s not much but it can change your life. It can get you a warm bed and hot meal. It can get you clean clothes and put you on the path to a better life. It’s enough money to carry you while you get yourself clean,” Bianci continued. “Give me something good to tell Luca when he asks about his real dad,” Anthony pressed on.

“Real cute kid,” I added, hating I was using a man’s kid as bait.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Vinny asked.

Bianci grabbed his phone off the passenger seat, his fingers quick to retrieve a photo of the boy both men obviously loved, and turned the screen to show Vinny. He took the phone, staring into the eyes of the child he created and smiled down at the photo, his eyes glistening with tears. I exchanged a look with Bianci, hating that we were playing with this man’s emotions and using his kid as leverage.

“I need you to organize a meeting with your dealer,” Anthony began.

“I can’t,” he said, handing him back his phone. “He wants me dead. I owe him a lot of money,” he explained.

“How much money?”

“Fifteen grand,” he revealed.

I reached for the envelope and dropped it onto his lap.

“There, now you have the money to settle up and five grand extra to get yourself together. If you do the right thing I personally will give you another twenty grand to get into rehab and get yourself well,” I said, feeling Bianci’s stare slicing into the side of my head. Dispersing forty grand to a junkie may be stupid but I was desperate and desperate people did stupid things.

Anthony grabbed the prepaid phone we brought along with us and handed it to Vinny.

“Call your dealer, tell him you have his money and you’re looking for a fix,” Anthony instructed. “Then tell him to meet you at the corner of 23rdAve and Cropsey,” he added.

“And then what? If he knows I set him up he’s going to kill me,” he stammered.

“He won’t know you set him up because one of my guys is going to grab you too,” I told him. “It’ll be just another drug deal gone wrong,” I explained.

“Make the call, Vin,” Anthony pressed.

He stared at the phone, biting his lip as trembling fingers hovered over the keypad.

“Make the fucking call,” I demanded, as I took the safety off my gun and let the barrel of it dig into his temple. “Make the fucking call,” I repeated.

Vinny let out a whimper before his fingers dialed the number and hit send.

An hour later we were parked on Cropsey Avenue watching closely as Vinny stood on the corner, shivering and waiting to meet with his dealer.

“You offered him twenty grand more than we agreed,” Bianci stated, eyes focused on Vinny.

“Technically, I offered him five grand more than we agreed,” I argued. “We didn’t factor he had a debt with the dealer,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Twenty-five grand isn’t a lot of money for him to get his shit together with,” I added.

“It doesn’t matter, you won’t be giving it to him anyway,” he said. “The five grand he has left over will be gone by morning and he’ll be back on this corner looking for more,” he said, turning to me briefly. “It’s a vicious cycle man, and Vinny’s lost to it. It’s only a matter of time before we’re burying the poor bastard.”

His phone rang bringing him back to the moment, and he lifted it to his ear.

“What’s up, Mike?” he asked.

“Okay, yeah, I see you,” he said, pointing to the street corner diagonally across from us where a van was parked and we watched as Mike turned the headlights off.

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