And nothing else mattered.
Chapter Twelve
Michael
Cap and I solved many a problem in my kitchen over a bottle of beer, and although I was sure we weren’t going to resolve this issue completely, talking about it eased my mind considerably.
“So, you think these pricks are just going to give up? I sure as fuck don’t. We haven’t seen the last of ’em, I’m sure of it.”
The beer bottle dangled loosely from between his thumb and forefinger while he waited on my response, but I didn’t have one I could provide—at least not immediately. There were many possibilities, none of which made perfect sense to me. It was conceivable Agrioli realized he couldn’t strong-arm me or my men into complying with his wishes, but I found it doubtful.
“He’s got too much pride to just give up,” I said. “If he decides to release us from his grip, he’s going to make a big deal of it. It’s how pretentious pricks like him operate.”
Cap tossed the empty bottle in the trash and opened the refrigerator door. “Another?”
I raised my half-full bottle and shook my head. “Not yet.”
“You’re probably right.” He grabbed another bottle of beer and closed the door. “I bet that fucker’s a real prick. Last fall they say he killed one of his own. Found him with a bullet in his forehead and his fuckin’ tongue missin’.”
I recalled what little I heard about it on the news. The name of the deceased stood out to me at the time.
“Yeah, I remember,” I said. “Paulie Pinchface.”
He choked on his beer as he laughed. “It was Pinchface Paul. And, I’m just sayin’, we need to keep our shit wired tight until this is over.”
“Agreed.”
I took a drink of beer, and my mind soon drifted off to thoughts of Terra. I should have been far more concerned with Agrioli than I actually was, but my mind was elsewhere. It troubled me slightly that I wasn’t completely focused on business.
It wasn’t like me.
Like an MMA fighter preparing for a match, Cap rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. “So, here’s the part that’s gonna piss you off.”
I tilted my head back and looked down my nose at him. “Say again?”
“The girl. You’ve been quiet about her for a few weeks, maybe longer. Where’s that deal stand?”
I wondered if he could tell. If he could see the differences in me. “What do you mean?”
“Where’s it fuckin’ stand?”
I swelled with pride in anticipation of responding, and instantly felt a twinge of guilt for my prideful thoughts. The pride quickly returned. “I’ve been seeing her regularly.”
“Seeing her how? Eatin’ ice cream sundaes and laughin’ it up at Baskin-Robbins like a couple of prepubescent teens, or seein’ her? You know, seein’ her?”
“You know I don’t fuck with ice cream.”
“You fucked her, didn’t ya?”
“You know,” I said. “I was the perfect marine. I took the biggest risks, because I didn’t have a fucking thing to lose. I’ve spent my entire life without, Cap.”
I’d never been one to complain about life or anything in it, and I wasn’t really complaining. Justifying my actions was more like it. The more I spoke, the more convinced I became that I was doing what was best for me.
“I’ve never known what it’s like to have someone look forward to seeing me. To have a person smile when they think about me. To believe—and I mean really believe—there’s a person who might give a fuck if I died. You know, when I was a kid, probably fifteen or so, the one thing that used to bother me more than anything? You know what that was?”
Standing at the bar with his elbows resting on the edge and his hands clasped together, he simply turned his palms up and shook his head.
“My funeral,” I said. “I used to sit and think about it. That there wouldn’t be anyone there. There wasn’t a person on earth, not one single fucking person, who gave a damn if I lived or died. I used to think about it almost every night.”
He inhaled a deep breath, and I was sure he intended to speak, but I wasn’t done yet. I raised my index finger and continued. “You know; I’ve known her about six weeks. One thing I really like about it—probably more than anything else—is that I know if Agrioli killed me, she’d be at my funeral. She’d be there.”
“I’d be there,” he said.
“I appreciate it,” I said with a nod.
He took a drink of beer, made eye contact with me, and then quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.