by Alexa Land
He clicked his tongue and said, “Seven against one. That’s not very sporting. Hold still, let me shoot three of you. Then my friend here can beat the shit out of the remainder.”
“Three! That’s insulting! Just shoot the knife,” I slurred. “I can take ‘em if that damn thing’s out of the mix.”
“I’m sure you could, love,” he said, glancing at me with an amused sparkle in his eyes, “when you’re sober. But you’re hammered right now, aren’t you?”
“Possibly. Okay, shoot three of them. And the knife. Leave Baldy McHairless alive, I really want to beat him up.”
I wasn’t serious, of course. He took aim at two of them, and the assholes took off running. Connie pantomimed picking off each of them without pulling the trigger, then turned to me and said, “’Ello, Andreo. You’re looking fairly decent for someone who’s clearly drunk off his ass.”
“You look different. Still beautiful, though.” He’d grown up in the last few years. His face and body were harder, and there was something in his eyes, something shrewd, calculating. It hadn’t been there before. His nose was ever-so-slightly crooked, too, as if it had been broken and reset improperly.
He raised an eyebrow at me and said, “I was never beautiful.”
“To me you were.”
He holstered both guns beneath his arms and buttoned his suit jacket, then said, “Come on, let’s get out of here before the rest of the neighborhood shows up to beat your ass.”
We started to walk out of the dark, quiet side street as I mumbled, “Seven to one. Assholes!”
“What the hell are you even doing in this neighborhood? I’m pretty sure the bar in your hotel serves the same whiskey, minus the knife fight.”
“Was looking for you,” I said.
“And you thought I’d be in a place like that?”
“You were! I just found you!”
“I found you, and the only reason I was there in the first place was because you were!”
I stopped walking and turned to him, all that whiskey sloshing around in my brain as I tried to make sense of what he’d said. “I don’t get it,” I told him after a minute.
“You don’t need to get it. Come on, there’s a major thoroughfare just ahead. We need to get you in a cab and back to your hotel while you’re still conscious. You’re built like a pissed-off Hulk, no damn way can I lift you if you pass out on me.”
Once we reached the busy intersection, he asked, “What did you do to make those guys want to beat you up?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Setting foot in a bar isn’t reason enough for over half a dozen men to want to beat you to a pulp. Fess up, what did you do?”
After a moment I admitted, “I might have given the big, bald one a look.”
“What kind of look?” I gave Connie the stink eye and he sighed. “No wonder they wanted to beat you up. Why were you itching for a fight?”
“I had to take my mind off things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things with silky black hair and melted chocolate eyes and the sweetest little ass,” I said. A cab rounded the corner and I flung my arm in the air as I added, “Things I found out were in town, but that I had no hope of tracking down.”
We climbed into the back of the cab and he gave the driver the name of my hotel. I put my head on his shoulder and said, “You’re stalking me. I like that.”
He grinned a little. “I just like knowing where you are.”
“Did you follow me to that shitty neighborhood?”
“It’ll sound creepy if I say yes.”
“Why on earth didn’t you find me sooner and say hello? I’ve been here a week. Think of all the fun we could have had during that time!”
“It’s not that simple,” he said.
“Sure it is. All you had to do was knock on my hotel room door, any night of the week.”
Connie’s voice was so soft when he said, “I ran out on you twice and ripped you off. Plus, given the fact that your family’s in organized crime, I’m willing to bet you’ve heard plenty of stories about me over the years. You have to hate me.”
“Does it seem like I hate you?” I trailed my fingertips up his thigh as I said that.
“No, but then again you’re incredibly drunk.” He reached up and began idly stroking my short hair. His touch was so soothing.
When we reached my hotel, he paid the cabbie and helped me upstairs to my room. I was staying at an inn dating from the 1700s, which was drafty and creaky but charming, which canceled out the first two complaints. I fell onto my bed and the room spun a little. Suddenly sleep seemed like a really good idea. I was vaguely aware of Connie pulling my shoes off and covering me with a blanket. He kissed my forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams, Andreo.” It seemed like there was something important I needed to say to him, but I was asleep in the next instant and it slipped away.
*****
I woke with a start several hours later and sat up in bed. “Don’t go,” I blurted, suddenly remembering that very important thing I’d meant to say before I fell asleep (or passed out drunk).
But it was already too late. Shit, of course it was. He was long gone. I fell back onto my pillow and stared at the ceiling. He’d left a small lamp on across the room. He’d tucked me in, too. I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
Damn it! I finally had the chance to be with him, and what did I do? I passed out. I was so angry with myself, not only for that but for drinking so much in the first place.
A couple minutes later, a key clicked in the lock and I sat up in bed. I was stunned when Connie came in carrying a brown paper grocery sack. “You’re back,” I exclaimed.
“I went out to get you some bottled water and ibuprofen. I actually couldn’t find the latter, so I bought something called Paracetomol, which is the same as Tylenol, I think. Anyway, it should help with the raging hangover you’re probably going to have in the morning. Oh, and I borrowed your room key to let myself back in, I hope you don’t mind.” He put the bag down on the dresser, and I swung my feet around and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m so glad you came back.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like my head’s been run over by a garbage truck,” I admitted.
He retrieved the pain killers from the grocery sack, shook a couple pills onto his palm, and brought them to me with a bottle of water. I washed them down before saying, “Please don’t be gone in the morning. I want nothing more than to spend some time with you. I’ll beg if I have to.” I tumbled out of bed and got on my knees. “Please Connie, stay with me.”
He grinned a little and brushed my hair back from my forehead as he said, “You’re cute when you beg.”
I took his hand and held it in both of mine. “Just stay. Please? Give me a day with you. Twenty-four hours. You’d make me so happy if you said yes.”
“It really means that much to you?” When I nodded, he said, “Okay then.”
Connie turned his back to me as I climbed in bed. He removed his overcoat and suit jacket, revealing a black double holster, which he unfastened and carefully placed inside a dresser drawer, along with the weapons it held. He then took off his shoes and rolled back his cuffs.
He crossed the small space to me, stretched out on the mattress and put his head on my pillow, his face just inches from mine. I ran my fingertips over his jaw, which was rough with razor stubble, and his soft, full lips. When I did that, he kissed my fingertips. “Why were you watching me?” I asked.
“I wasn’t really. At least, not before tonight. But I’d heard you were in town and it was easy enough to find out where you were staying. Then, what can I say? Earlier tonight my willpower snapped and I came to your hotel. I pulled up in a taxi just as you drove off in one, so I told my cabbie to follow you. When you got out in that terrible neighborhood, I did, too. I guess I shadowed you out of curiosity, more than anything else. Plus, I was trying to get up my courage to approach
you. Like I said, I was sure you had to hate me, given my track record. But then you picked a bar fight and everything else flew out the window.” He took my hand and clutched it to his chest.
“Thanks for stepping in. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
“You probably would have handled it, though you also might have gotten stabbed in the process.”
He pulled the blanket over us with his free hand and kissed me. We ended up kissing for a long time, softly, tenderly. When he pulled back to look at me, he said, “Tell me something about you, Andy.”
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
“That’s too broad,” I said, stalling because I didn’t really like talking about myself.
“Alright, then start at the beginning. What were you like as a kid?”
“Serious. What about you?”
“I was happy at first. It all went to hell when I was in my teens, though.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“I thought I was part of this perfect family, until my parents got divorced. It might not have been that bad, but I found out why my mother left my father, and after that…well, things got complicated.”
“Why did she leave him?”
“She found out what he does for a living. He’d always led all of us to believe he was an engineer. Turns out, not so much.”
“I’ve heard plenty of stories about Al Dombruso over the years. He has quite the reputation.” I looked Connie in the eyes and said, “Second only to yours.”
He held my gaze steadily, almost defiantly. “We’re not really going to have that discussion now, are we?”
I shook my head. “Tell me more about your childhood. Who did you live with after the divorce, your mom or dad?”
“My mom at first, but I was too much of a handful. She thought my dad was an unfit parent, so instead of shipping me off to live with him, she sent me to live with her cousin Frances and Frannie’s husband in New York. It was a huge change after growing up in California, and it didn’t help at all. I continued drinking, smoking weed, and failing most of my classes. It was kind of miraculous that I graduated from high school, given all of that.”
I asked him, “Then what did you do?”
“I went to live with my dad once I turned eighteen. My mother and her lawyers didn’t have a say in it anymore at that point.”
“Do you and your father get along?”
Connie shrugged and a shadow passed over his features. “Sort of, but it’s impossible to please Alberto Dombruso.”
“My dad’s the same way. Fortunately, I have very little to do with him.”
“What about your mom?”
“She died when I was young.”
“I’m sorry.” I gave him a half-smile in acknowledgement and he asked, “So, who raised you?”
“Nannies, more or less. I tend to think I raised myself.”
He touched my cheek and said, “You did a good job.”
“Thank you.”
Connie watched me for a long moment before saying, “We actually have some things in common.”
“I’m not surprised. We both grew up in very similar families, with an equally long history in organized crime. I think we probably understand each other far more than the average person ever could.”
“You might be right.”
“So, I have to ask,” I said, “just because it’s been eating at me for years. How did you know I had that coin on me? I swear I’m not mad anymore, I’m just dying to know.”
He said, “Stella Motola had the worst taste in men. First she shacked up with douchebag extraordinaire Jimmy Carrera, and then when he took off with her cash and jewelry, she immediately found another guy that was just as much of an asshole. She confided in him about the stolen coin and her plans to get it back, and he hired me to intercept you and steal it for him. I was pretty hard up for money back then, and it seemed like an easy paycheck.”
“I’m glad I know that now,” I said, and kissed him softly.
*****
We kept alternately talking and kissing until the pale light of dawn began to filter into the room. I leaned in to kiss him again and he rolled over on top of me, deepening the kiss as he unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders. When I started to get hard, he slid down my body and freed my cock from my clothing, then gently took it in his mouth. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched him as he sucked me. “Please look at me,” I whispered.
There was such stark, raw vulnerability in his eyes when he looked up at me that I immediately sat up and pulled him into my arms. “Connie, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” I told him.
“I know. I want to. I just….”
“What?”
“I don’t do well with intimacy. About the only way I can stand sex is if it’s with anonymous strangers. You’re actually the only man who’s fucked me more than once,” he admitted as he held on to me.
“It’s the same reason you don’t want me to touch your cock, isn’t it?” I asked gently. “Did someone hurt you?”
He didn’t look at me as he said, “I was sexually molested when I was a teenager. I don’t want your pity, and I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. The only reason I’m telling you is because I know I’m kind of weird about a lot of things, and as my only recurring sex partner…I don’t know. I guess I felt like you deserved an explanation.”
I kissed the top of his head and pulled up my briefs, then said, “Thanks for telling me. I promise not to bring it up again.”
Connie rested his head on my chest and traced the outline of the big tattoo on my bicep as he said softly, “I’m sorry I ruined your blow job. I really wanted to make you feel good.”
When I said, “There’s no reason to apologize, sweetheart,” he chuckled a little, and I asked what was funny.
“That you’d call me sweetheart. It’s not a nickname most people would ever apply to me.”
“Well, most people don’t know you like I do,” I said as I caressed his back.
“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met,” he said quietly. After a pause he added, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I stole that coin from you. I hope you didn’t get in too much trouble when you weren’t able to hand it over to Stella Motola.”
“It’s fine. That wasn’t the first or last time I was beat up. I lived to tell about it, which is all that really matters.”
He looked up at me and said, “Shit Andy, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You were doing the same I thing I’d done, stealing a stolen coin. I’m not going to fault you for that.”
“But after you fucked me and were so kind to me afterwards, I should have put it back in your pocket. Instead, I let you get in trouble. All I could think about was how much I needed the money, and that was so selfish.”
“If you really needed the money, then I’m glad you took it. I hope it helped you.”
Connie said, “Stop being so nice to me. I was an asshole. You and I both know it. If you felt like beating the shit out of me for doing that to you, I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest.”
“I wanted that once. But as you may recall, when I found you in Brooklyn, it went another way entirely.” I grinned at him.
“Yeah, I didn’t actually forget that.” He grinned a little, too.
Connie fell asleep in my arms after a while. I watched him as he slept, lightly stroking his silky hair. I felt so content when I drifted off sometime later.
*****
When I awoke, it was late morning. Connie sat on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes. His movements were slow, deliberate. He was trying not to wake me as he snuck out again.
I asked him, “Are you planning to come back?”
He jumped a little at the sound of my voice and looked at me over his shoulder before turning away again. All he said was, “No.”
I sat up and told him, “You have to stop running from me, Connie. We cou
ld have something real here if you’d just let us.”
He stood up, his back still to me as he said, “I gave you all I had to give last night. I’m not capable of more than that.”
Connie started to head for the door, and I leapt out of bed. I had to pull up my pants and zip them as I ran after him. I caught up to him just as he opened the door, and pushed it shut again. He turned to me with eyes blazing and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to talk to you!”
“If you’ve ever wondered why I sneak off in the morning, this is why. It’s so I can avoid scenes like this!”
“There wouldn’t be a scene if you just stuck around,” I said, my voice rising a little despite myself.
“What the hell do you want from me?”
“I want the guy from last night! I want the sweet, tender person who opened up to me, let himself be vulnerable, and slept in my arms!”
“But that’s not who I am,” he said, his voice rising, too. “Don’t you get that? I don’t know what the fuck was with me last night! I talked about shit you have no business knowing!”
“That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?” I said, lowering my voice. “You’re regretting the fact that you opened up to me. But there’s no need to feel self-conscious! I’ll never repeat what you told me to another soul. You can trust me, Connie.”
“Bullshit! I can’t trust anyone, least of all you!”
“Least of all me? Where the hell did that come from? Last night, according to you, I was the nicest person you’ve ever met!”
“And that’s precisely why you’re so dangerous,” he exclaimed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "You make me want to believe this nice guy act, but you’re just not a boy scout! You’re a fucking gangster, just like the rest of your family, and yet you act so innocent.”
“I may break the law,” I told him, “but I’m nothing like the rest of my family!”