Page 25 of Straightened Out

“We’ll celebrate at the club,” I promise as I lean over her and set my empty tumbler on top of the bar. My phone vibrates inside my suit pocket and while Joaquin informs the bartender to keep his tab open for Violet, I pull it out and see a text from my uncle’s bodyguard.

“He’s here.”

“Who?” Violet questions.

“No one,” Joaquin answers. “We won’t be long. Stay out of trouble and don’t move from this fucking chair.”

“You know, I was just starting to like you again,” she teases.

“I mean it, Vi. Stay put,” he warns.

Her eyes shoot to me and I give a silent jerk of my head.

Don’t fucking move.

“Fine, but don’t be long. I want to dance.”

Yeah, I want her to dance too.

Ain’t nothing like it in the world.

We leave her at the bar and start down the narrow hallway that leads to the back room of the restaurant reserved for private parties. Reaching the door, Joaquin pauses and scratches the side of his jaw.

“How much trouble do you think she can get into in the time it takes for Victor to eat a porterhouse?”

My lips quirk slightly as I reach into my back pocket and pull out a tie. Tucking it under the collar of my shirt, I peer at him from the corner of my eye.

“You don’t want to hear this, but I’m gonna say it anyway so maybe you get used to the idea…I’m gonna marry her.”

I say it to bust his balls but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I decide I like the way they sound.

“The hell you are.”

And I like a challenge even more.

“You’ll see.”

Chapter 8

Rocco Spinelli

It’s all fun and games until you’re sitting at a table, sober as a judge, staring at your uncle waiting him for him to keel over and die.

“Quit looking at me like I’m going to drop dead and plant my face in the mashed potatoes,” he sneers, glaring at me.

Great, so he noticed.

Clearing my throat, I tear my gaze away and try to signal for a waiter to bring me another drink, but my dear uncle cleared the room for this meeting and all that remains is his bodyguards.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Vic.”

I think I was too drunk last night to process the fact he was dying, but it’s hitting me now. He’s giving up and I don’t understand why. I look at the barely touched steak on my plate and shake my head.

“If you taught me anything, it’s to fight until the end and here you are—”

“If you’re going to playback my words, make sure you have them right, Rocco. I don’t like to be misquoted. Yes, a man should fight until the end, but it depends on what he’s fighting for. I might not be fighting cancer, but I’m fighting for my family, for my wife, and my girls, and that’s why I’m here with you.”

Yeah, I call bullshit.

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