Fight For Me (Dark Renzetti Series Book 2)

by V Domino

  “Fine. When and what fucking time, Jefa?” Though I want to be mad at her, Jefa's squeals and giggles keep me from letting the words slip from my lips.

  Once she rattles off the time and address she gives me a dress code. “Don’t be a panocha, Twitch.” Pussy. “Suit and tie nothing less.” Then she hangs up before I can reply. Fuck that. I never wear that shit. If I'm going to this damn party, I'm going to dress how I want to.

  Three hours later I'm sitting in a barber's chair at a Brooklyn barbershop. The owner's son, Nick Martinez, is a friend I gained not long after my first week here. Along with his job cutting hair, he's a new fighter at Barbarity so he's been training at 5th Round with me and Johnny. I think he has the potential to become a champ. He's eager and learns fast so I've been thinking of talking to Diego about giving him a contract. We'll see how his upcoming fight goes.

  “So what’s got you in here today? Are you getting fresh for your nemesis?” Nick asks me while trimming the ends of my hair. I roll my eyes because like Jefa, this guy has been talking shit about me and Silver.

  “Nick. I'm not one of your soap operas so it's none of your damn business.”

  His snickering has my teeth grinding.

  “Aww, come on Twitch, you know I'm just fucking with you.” He stays silent a moment, allowing me to relax to the sound of the hair clippers buzzing. I feel my mind go quiet until Nick opens his mouth again. “Maybe I’ll see if Silver wants to get some drinks with me sometime. She’s been making ojos at me a lot lately.” Eyes.

  I’m about to jump out of this chair and beat the shit out of my friend when I see him fold his hands in front of him, twisting side to side like a little girl batting his eyelashes. Instead of ripping his throat out, I bust up laughing.

  “You’re a fucking clown you know that?”

  “Well, then, chamaco.” Boy. “What are you getting fresh for then, huh?”

  I roll my eyes as I reply, “You make it sound like I looked like a fucking hobo an hour ago.” I see his brows raise in the mirror like he’s saying, Yeah, you fucking did.

  I flip him off, causing him to chuckle. “There’s a party for Blanca this weekend, you want to go?

  “Ay, you make me blush. Of course I’ll be your date but, Twitch, you didn’t have to get all pretty for me.”

  “You’re. A. Fucking. Clown.”

  “What do you think your pops would want for his birthday?” Jefa and I are going on a shopping spree in Brooklyn and buying a gift for her dad is one of the most difficult things to do.

  One, the man has everything so getting him something he doesn't already have is tricky. Last year I managed to acquire a custom made Brioni suit for him, not an easy thing to do especially when there's a long wait list. Luckily I made a connection with a tailor who owed me. Two, because the man is picky as hell. I've never met a man so damn anal about material or smells. Jefa got him an expensive bottle of cologne but he said it smelled like cow manure!

  Jefa cocks her brow at me, “You know damn well I don't know what the hell he'd want.”

  We both laugh at this but continue our search for the perfect gift. The man may be stubborn and picky but he's also one of the kindest men I've ever met. To me and his daughter anyway. I've seen him cut someone down without a second glance, but with me, he's always been caring.

  “Well, I think I'm going to hit up that antique store. I think he'd like that stylish parchment-like paper and I'll have a custom made wax seal to pair with it! I think he'll like the uniqueness of it.” I feel much better having figured out my gift for Diego.

  “I think I'm just going to get him those rose gold Bvlgari cufflinks. They'll pair well with the rose gold bracelet I got him last year. Now that we got that out of the way, I want to have a girl talk with you. Let's go eat!” Jefa bounces on her feet with a couple of claps which make the ominous words sound less dreadful but more than likely, I'm going to hate this chitchat.

  Forget waiting until we have food in our faces, I want to know what she has on her mind now. I speed walk to catch up to Jefa and stop her from crossing the street.

  “What is this conversation about and why can't you just spit it out now?”

  “Calmate, Silver.” Calm down. “It's nothing important. Just girl talk, that's all. Sheesh.” She runs across the street flipping off whoever honked at her as I walk leisurely behind her. I'm not going to be running in these heels.

  The hostess leads us to a quiet table towards the back. We always sit with our backs to the wall, keeping our eyes on the dining guests and the exits. I may not be a made man but I've seen and done some things that I must keep an eye out, even with our guards nearby. You won't catch me slipping.

  La Cucina, The Kitchen, is a fairly new restaurant that the Renzetti family opened about four years ago. The menu is said to be from their grandmother's recipe book and I hear they're planning on expanding the locations. Diego enjoys the high-class vibe and delectable menu so much that he has offered to buy buildings in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California, the four states his cartel controls, just to have the menu nearby.

  This particular restaurant is designed in a way that tells you the story of how the Renzettis came to America; the beautiful story of the Italian pilgrimage to the states. The wall behind me is a huge mural of the old country, Italy. It depicts a vineyard in Sicily that the Renzetti Familia comes from. The wall beside that is a printed photo that's been turned into wallpaper. It shows a large ship filled with immigrants coming to the shores of America. The bottom corner of the wall has a handwritten date on it; April 8th 1899.

  The beautiful photo always hits me in the feels. An era when immigrants were welcomed and only stopped to check for lice. A time when America was building it’s population with different colors and cultures.

  “Miss Mazzi, miss Blanca. So good to see you two in here. What can I get you to drink?” The manager Paul Fazioli, says while placing two glasses of water on our table and his charmingly accented voice pulls me from my musings. Paul always sees to us personally and he makes sure we have everything we need. He’s a good man, the kind every little girl needs as a grandfather.

  “Hey, Pauly boy. How's your wife?” I love calling him boy even though he's about seventy years old. He gets a kick out of it so it makes me smile.

  “Sta facendo del ben.” She’s doing good. “She’s got her garden growing well and plenty of books to read so that keeps her off my back.” I smile at his playful words

  “Why do you need her off your back, Pauly? You got some hot girls who need tending to, huh?” Jefa joins in on the teasing. Her words still make the old man smile and it’s easy to see the handsome man he was in his younger years.

  Pauly chuckles as he answers her, “Solo voi due donne.” Only you two ladies.

  “Ah, you’re too sweet, Pauly. We’ll have the house wine and fresh salad.”

  Once he leaves to take care of our order I turn to Jefa and wait for her to finish checking her phone before demanding to know what it is she wants to talk about. I’m fairly certain she’s going to want to talk about Twitch. She hasn’t asked a single word about him but I know Johnny told her about Twitch being in the shower with me three years ago. I gotta give it to the girl, she’s patient as fuck but it was only a matter of time before she began pestering me about us.

  Us.

  That’s a funny thought because there is no us. When he acted as if I were just a piece of meat it pissed me off, not because of the disrespectful words but because of the cowardice behind them. I know he didn’t mean those words, I know because I witnessed his walls crumble. Just as I witnessed them build back up when he saw that his feelings for me were returned in full. I felt the same and he bitched out.

  That’s the only reason I’m so pissed.

  Emotional weakness is a turn off for me. I’m not looking for a man to cuddle and tell me sweet nothings all day, hell no, but I want a man who isn’t afraid to love and be loved. Being talented wit
h your mouth and fingers is wonderful. Having a mouthwatering dick is fan-fucking-tastic, but being a bitch about your heart? No thank you. Not with Twitch at least. Any other guy I’d have been good with hit it and quit it but for some inexplicable reason Twitch is my kryptonite. With his beautiful face, stormy hazel eyes and gorgeous body, how can I not want more than a quick fuck?

  Honestly, those thoughts have never crossed my mind before this damnable man. I’ve never given love a second thought because I saw what love can do to even the best people. It can be your strength or your weakness and I was never willing to find out what it’d be for me.

  Until Twitch.

  “Hellooooo.” Jefa’s voice pulls me out of my frustrated thoughts just as the server brings our wine and salad. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon but a little wine during the day never hurt anyone. In fact, I’m pretty sure you can die of a brain hemorrhage or possibly kill someone if you don’t have a little alcohol to chill your mind while people-ing. Don’t believe me? Google it.

  “Sorry I was thinking about drinking this wine before strangling you. What were you saying?” I give Jefa a sweet smile over the rim of my glass. The fruity tanginess of the wine glides smoothly over my taste buds and loosens my shoulders.

  Jefa chuckles as she picks at her salad. “Good, drink up because I want to tell you who I invited to pop’s birthday party.”

  She looks at me from beneath her lashes weighing my facial expression which I’m pretty sure is blank unless the snarl I heard in my head actually came out.

  “Who did you invite, Jefa?” I guess I can’t really say anything, it’s her dad’s birthday after all but I won’t stay long if she invited Twitch. I’ll show face and then bounce.

  “Twitch.”

  Damn it all to hell. This bitch.

  “Why the hell did you invite him, huh? He’s an asshole. Gorgeous and sexy, but still a fucking asshole.”

  “Yes, you say this to everyone, including him but why is he an asshole? I happen to like the guy and so does pop which is why I invited him. He didn’t want to go at first, he even tried to hang up on me until I told him you’d be there.”

  I pick up the wine glass and gulp down the rest and signal the waiter for more. “So he’s going because I’m going? That doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably just going to go so he can fuck with me or ruin my night by being a jerk off.”

  “Silver. Tell me what happened. Why do you hate him? If he did something disrespectful, tell me and I’ll have him gone.” I believe her. Jefa is my ride or die.

  “I know you talked to Johnny and probably heard enough to know that Twitch and I had a moment but it's nothing worth talking about, but he saw something in me that scared him off.” I don't elaborate because I know for a fact that I sound like a crazy fool rushing into feelings. I just hope my expression keeps Jefa from asking anything more on the subject.

  My hopes are dashed though.

  “What did he see?”

  I stare at Jefa for a moment, weighing my words. I don't lie unless it's to protect my business interests but I especially don't lie to my best girl. I watch as Jefa comes to the conclusion that I'll be pleading the fifth on this subject.

  Hypocrite much?

  Yeah, I guess I am. I'm over here pissed with Twitch for blocking off his feelings but yet here I am afraid to talk to my own bestie about mine.

  “Okay, fuck! You know that I've never cared much for anything serious when it comes to relationships. I used to find love an empty word or something that could be used against you. Like my mom and father. She loved the bastard and he used it against her. Kept her tamed and meek then they had me and he used her love for me as a way to bring her to heel when she stepped out of line.” I grip the wine glass tightly as I think about the pain of my childhood.

  “Si, pero no es tu papa.” Yes, but he is not your father. “So what happened that made you angry? Did he have a small pipí?” Dick. Jefa's expression is so serious that I burst out laughing and continue laughing when she looks confused. My crazy white haired girlfriend would be pissed off if a guy she's interested in has a small dick.

  Finally, my laughter calms down as the waiter comes over to refill our wine glasses and take our food orders but before he can leave with the bottle, Jefa snatches it from his hand and gives him a wink making the kid blush.

  “This is serious business, Silver,” she continues badgering me once we're alone again. “What's up with you and Twitch lately?”

  “Well, first off he most definitely does not have a small dick.” She opens her mouth but I hold up a hand stopping whatever craziness she's about to say. “I caught feelings and it scared him off. He acted like a total dick afterward, saying I was the only pussy close enough to fulfill his needs but I know it's bullshit because he didn't even get off,” I say with a shrug.

  Jefa's inner psychologist comes out. “I get it. He saw you wanted more than what he was ready to give but at the same time, he caught feelings too and they're as unfamiliar to him as yours are to you.”

  “Exactly! I've known him for three fucking years and I still don't know his real name or his last name. I don't know anything about him other than the fact that he has the attitude of a caveman and he kisses me like a man eating his last meal and he makes me feel things that I never thought I would or even care to. How can he drive me to the brink of insanity and irritation but make me want him all the same? It's confusing and frustrating that's why I've been avoiding him. You and Johnny did me no favor by ditching me at the gym that one time.”

  Jefa has the decency to look ashamed but then she shrugs. “Maybe if you had opened your mouth and told me what happened, I never would have come up with the idea!”

  I laugh because I know she's right. If I hadn't been busy being a hypocrite and opened up to her I wouldn't have been suffering alone.

  “Anyway, I think you need to do one of two things. One, you corner the asshole and make him understand that you won't be waiting around for him like some princess in her tower.” The devious glint in her eye has butterflies swarming in my stomach. I can only imagine what plan she's got going inside her wicked mind. “Or you can get dressed sexy as fuck tonight and make the guy jealous by showing up with that puto you dated for a few months.” Yeah, Michael Calabrese was a real piece of shit. Not at first, though. He started out as a sweet guy who opened doors like a gentleman and flowers on random occasions but it just wasn't doing it for me. When I tried breaking things off he began stalking me like a crazy ass until Johnny had a few words with him.

  “Jefa, why in the hell would I even consider calling that bastard? You know how he got when I broke his psychotic heart? I don't feel like getting pervy death notes slipped under my door again.”

  Jefa laughs and says, “So Michael can get his ass kicked a second time but by Twitch. I love seeing him fight. He's so sexy with all those tattoos and muscles. Ay, papi.” She sighs like Twitch is her dream man. I toss a cherry tomato at her head and laugh when she catches it with her mouth.

  “Listen,” she says around the tomato. “Twitch seems like a complicated guy who needs someone on his side for once. Pop told me that Twitch had a childhood he won't speak of and gets closed off when Pop tries to get more info out of him. Maybe Twitch lived a life similar to yours and he's never allowed anyone close. If this is the case, it really is the cliche; it's not you, it’s me. If you want him, Silver, go get him because he won't take what he thinks he doesn't deserve to have.”

  I picked up Nick on my way to Medusa’s Lounge but I still don’t know my way around so it’s a good thing I got Nick to come with. After following his directions we made it to the place and as luck would have it, it’s fifteen minutes from my new apartment. Medusa’s is a remodeled two story building that looks like it’s been here since New York was founded. The red brick building has been painted over in matte black, completely different from the other buildings around it. Though we're in a hipster part of lower Manhattan, this b
uilding stands out with a large stylish sign in front that has the goddess, Medusa, lounging on a chaise.

  “Have you ever been here before?” I ask Nick as we pull up to the curb.

  “No, but I've heard of it from time to time. It was opened not that long ago. The owner got a loan from the Renzetti family so he could get this place.” I've heard a few whispers about this family. They're an Italian family that runs the Cosa Nostra here in North America. Supposedly, the boss is a blood thirsty man but Diego says he's a fair guy and rarely shows face unless he's needed for a sit down with the heads of the New York boroughs. I just found out that Johnny's dad is a capo for the boss. Maybe he can help me find out what happened to my sister, since the city can't do shit for me.

  A valet comes jogging over as we get out of my car but I stop him before he can climb in. “If I come out and there's a scratch anywhere on this car or even the rims I will break a finger. Got it?” This car is the only thing I have that's worth anything to me so I'll be damned if anything happens to it.

  The guy swallows loudly before stuttering out, “Y-yes sir, got it.” He looks like a know-it-all teenager but he’s still as soft as his baby face so I know he hasn't seen the things I have. I may almost be twenty three years old but I feel years older. Plus, he looks like one of those punks that joyrides in cars when he should be parking them so I will keep my word. I let him climb in the car and watch as he pulls away from the curb before turning and walking towards the entrance with Nick.

  “Dress code is in order for tonight, sir. I can't let you in.” I look down at my black button up shirt and white bow tie along with my white suspenders and black ripped jeans, paired off with my combat boots. “Oh well! I fucking tried, let's go Nick.” I turn to go back to the valet but Nick addressing the bouncer with an authoritative tone, one that I've never heard him use before, stops me.