Page 52 of My Best Friend Is Broken
Nicky pulls out his phone and starts speaking rapidly in Italian. I catch maybe every third word, something about cleanup, something about location, something that sounds like orders being given to people who don’t question them.
It strikes me suddenly that Nicky is giving orders. Not asking for help or calling in favors, but commanding people to do things for him. I knew he’d climbed the ranks, knew he had money and influence, but seeing it in action is different. This is power, real power, the kind that makes grown men jump when you tell them to.
Within minutes, a car pulls up at the mouth of the alley. A man I don’t recognize gets out. Middle-aged, unremarkable, the kind of person you’d forget five minutes after meeting. But he moves with the same quiet efficiency as Nicky, and when he sees Wayne’s unconscious form, he doesn’t ask questions.
“Boss,” he says simply.
“Boot,” Nicky replies, and together they hoist Wayne’s limp body and carry it to the car.
I watch this happen like it’s a movie, like it’s happening to someone else. The man opens the boot, which I notice is unusually large, and they fold Wayne inside like he’s nothing more than an inconvenient piece of luggage.
When they’re done, Nicky hands the man his car keys. “Take my car home.”
The man nods and disappears, leaving us alone with Wayne safely contained in the boot of a car that I’m suddenly very aware I’m about to get into.
“Come on,” Nicky says gently, opening the passenger door for me. “Let’s go.”
I climb in because I don’t know what else to do. The seat is leather, expensive, and there’s a faint smell of pine air freshener that doesn’t quite mask something else, something metallic and unpleasant that makes my stomach turn.
“Where are we going?” I ask as Nicky starts the engine.
“To Dante’s.”
The name sends a chill through me. Dante, the man who looked at me like I was something he might enjoy breaking. Dante, who Nicky told to stay away from me with such finality that even I could feel the threat underneath.
We drive through London in silence, and I watch familiar streets blur past the window. Normal people going about their normal lives, completely unaware that there’s an unconscious man in the boot of the car next to them at traffic lights.
The industrial estate is exactly what I expected. Rundown, isolated, the kind of place where screams would go unnoticed and unquestioned. Nicky drives around to the back, and metal shutters rise to admit us into a cavernous space that smells of motor oil and something else I don’t want to identify.
The shutters close behind us with a finality that makes my chest tight.
Dante emerges from a side door, and I catch a glimpse of the space beyond, a sofa, a television, the mundane details of someone’s living space. He lives here, in this place that’s clearly designed for things other than comfort.
“Nicolo,” Dante says, his voice carrying that same silky danger I remember from our first meeting. “What do we have here?”
Nicky explains quickly, efficiently, in a tone that suggests this isn’t the first time he’s had to deal with inconvenient people from the past. I listen numbly as he describes my worst nightmare in matter-of-fact tones. Referring to Wayne as, ‘an asshole who gave Liam trouble in prison.’
When he’s finished, Dante looks at me with something that might be sympathy. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he says, and his voice is unexpectedly gentle. “No one should have to see their abuser again.”
The word ‘abuser’ hangs in the air between us, stark and clinical and absolutely accurate. He saw right through Nicky’s careful and vague wording, and I don’t think I mind.
“Do you want to help?” Dante asks me directly.
The question hits me like a physical blow. Help with what? With whatever they’re planning to do to Wayne?With revenge, with justice, with whatever passes for both in this world that Nicky inhabits?
I shake my head frantically, horrified at the very idea. I’m no angel. I’m not about to beg for Wayne’s life. I’m not going to ask for him to be set free. I am deeply moved that Nicky is willing to do all of this for me. But I don’t want to take part.
I guess that makes me a hypocrite. But I am who I am.
“Do you want to watch?”
Another shake of the head, more violent this time. I can’t. I won’t. This isn’t my world. I’m not cut out for this level of darkness, this casual approach to violence and consequences.
Watching them load Wayne into the boot was bad enough. Whatever comes next, I don’t want any part of it.
But even as I refuse, even as I make it clear that I want nothing to do with their world of shadows and retribution, I can’t help but think one thing. Nicky is going to be disappointed in me.
He’s just saved me from my worst nightmare, and I can’t even stomach watching him deal with the consequences. He’s shown me a glimpse of the power he wields, the lengths he’ll go to protect me, and all I can do is shrink away like the scared little rabbit Wayne said I was.
