Jessie gives me a thin smile that makes me worry. Shit, she must be pissed off that I’m late. I can’t blame her. I only just got her to forgive me for all the dumb things I did, and I can’t even show up on time for lunch. I should’ve driven myself.
“I’m really sorry,” I tell her once I’ve pulled up to the table. “My driver took 34th street across town. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him.”
Jessie is quiet for a second as she takes another sip of wine. Finally, she says, “You… have a driver?”
She acts like I told her I took a private jet to get to the restaurant. Yeah, I hire a company that takes me places when driving myself isn’t convenient. It’s what you gotta do sometimes when you run a multimillion dollar business. “I got a car,” I tell her. “The driver is just for, you know, sometimes.”
Shit. I sound like a fucking moron.
“Oh,” Jessie says. She toys with the menu in front of her. “I see. And does the ‘driver’ do… other jobs for you?”
I frown at her. What the hell is she talking about? Other jobs? What is she implying?
Does she think my driver whacks guys for me??
“He just drives,” I say.
“Oh,” she says again.
I nod down at the menu. “You know what you want?”
Her cheeks color. “The food here is so expensive. There isn’t one thing on the menu that costs less than thirty dollars.”
“So what?” I say. “That’s what good food costs.”
“But…” She chews on her lip. “I can’t order a piece of chicken that costs thirty-four dollars. I mean, it’s chicken.”
“Yeah, that’s why it’s only thirty-four dollars.”
For the first time, I realize that the clothing Jessie is wearing isn’t the kind of pricy stuff Natalie and my previous girlfriends strutted around in. It looks like stuff you’d get at Walmart. I wonder what Jessie’s financial situation is. I wonder if she needs help. Money troubles—that’s an easy fix for me. I’ll give her whatever she needs. I want to make her happy.
“Anyway,” I say, waving at the menu, “get whatever you want. Don’t even look at the price.”
Jessie is quiet for a second. Before I can think to ask her what’s wrong, she blurts it out. The words that make my stomach sink into my shoes.
“Nick, I’m engaged.”
Chapter 9
Nick
Engaged?
Engaged?
No. No fucking way. I look down at her left hand—still no ring. Chrissy would never have set that up last night if Jessie had a fiancé. She’s lying. She’s fucking lying to me. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.
It hurts. I’m not going to say I haven’t got rejected before by a woman I liked, so this is nothing brand new to me. Before my injury, it never happened—never. If I asked a girl out, she said yes, simple as that. It wasn’t something I ever worried about. I lost a lot of that confidence after I ended up in a wheelchair. It wasn’t until my second year at Columbia undergrad when I finally worked up the nerve to ask another girl out.
Her name was Serena and she was in my economic class—a smart, attractive girl headed for business school, just like me. We worked on a project together and I liked her. She was the first girl I’d felt anything for since Jessie, but I was too chickenshit to do much about it. Serena and I got to be friends—good friends—then one night at a Fourth of July party when the fireworks were going off and we’d both had a couple of drinks, I kissed her.
I’d made a move like that many times before and never got shut down. Never. But that night made it clear things had changed. I could see right away how flustered Serena was, even though she was bordering on drunk.
“I’m sorry, Nick,” she mumbled, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “You’re a really nice guy and all. I just don’t like you that way.”
It was a punch in the gut to confirm that women didn’t see me the way they used to. It took a long time before I had the nerve to ask another girl out.
I don’t get rejected much anymore. The women I meet generally are willing to tolerate the fact that I can’t walk if it means they get to go out with a rich guy who will get them into any club or restaurant without having to wait in line. Like Natalie. My status gives me my confidence back with the opposite sex.
But Jessie isn’t interested in my money or my connections. So it looks like I don’t have anything to offer her.
“You know,” I say quietly, “you don’t have to insult me by making up a fiancé. If you’re not interested, just fucking say so.”
Jessie’s eyes widen. “Nick…”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Really.”
“But I really am engaged!”
I roll my eyes at her. “So what’s his name?”
“Seth Parsons,” she says. “He’s a lawyer. I… met him in college actually, not that long after you… well, you know. I live with him now. We… we’re probably going to get married in June. Or… I don’t know, sometime in the summer.”
I think she might actually be telling the truth.
I’m going to kill Chrissy.
“What about you?” she prods me. “You were with that girl last night who was… I mean, Christ, Nick, she was gorgeous.”
I shrug. “She’s okay.”
She smiles awkwardly. “How long have you been with her?”
The last thing I want to do is think about Natalie right now. But at least I can save some face here. She doesn’t know my relationship with Natalie is a lie. And Natalie is a really beautiful girl—that’s why I pay for her to be my arm candy.
“About six months,” I say. “She’s great.” I look Jessie in her blue eyes. “She’s amazing in bed.”
I see Jessie wince. “Oh. Well, that’s… great. So things are kind of serious with her then?”
“I don’t like to get too serious with women,” I say. That’s not a lie—not one of the women I’ve dated has been worth getting serious with. Certainly not Natalie. But if Jessie had told me something different today, I’d have been willing to marry her tomorrow.
“Yeah,” she says. “I figured.”
The waiter comes by to save us from an awkward silence. Jessie looks down at the menu and I know she’s trying to pick the cheapest thing she can find. She finally ends up ordering a salad. I get steak. You don’t go to Blue Moon and order anything but steak.
“Look,” Jessie says, turning her blue eyes back on me. “I know you said that thing about the singing job at Cleopatra’s but I just wanted you to know you don’t have to do that for me. I understand what you were trying to do and… well, I’m not completely clueless. I know I’m not right for that job.”
She’s right about one thing—I offered her a job singing at Cleopatra’s because I wanted to impress her and have an excuse to see her again. But now that she’s saying she’s not interested, I realize I actually want her to sing at Cleopatra’s. I think Jessie has the greatest voice I’ve ever heard, and I want everyone else to be able to hear it too.
I shake my head at her. “No, I want you to audition.”
Her face pales. “Nick, seriously, I’m nothing like any of the girls who sang last night.”
“Exactly,” I say. “You’ll be a breath of fresh air.”
She just shakes her head.
“Listen to me, Jessie,” I say. “You’re really talented. One of the best singers I ever heard. You can’t waste your gift.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “You honestly believe that?”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
Jessie takes a sip from her wine glass. Her skin is turning pink, and I wonder if it always turns pink like that when she drinks alcohol. There’s so much I don’t know about grown up Jessie. Even though she’s engaged, even though she just shot me down, I still want to get to know more.
“I’ll help you practice if you want,” I tell her. “You can sing ‘I Feel Pretty.’”
Her
face turns even pinker. “Oh God, you still remember that?”
“Of course. You were great!”
“I was the blondest Maria ever.”
I grin at her. “Hey, who says Puerto Ricans can’t be blond and blue-eyed?”
“I still can’t even believe I got that part,” she says.
Jessie has no clue that I talked to Derek, the casting director, to land her the role of Maria. Or that Alyssa Carlotta gave Derek head thanks to my powers of persuasion. I don’t intend for her ever to know.
She also won’t know that no matter what she sings at that audition, she’s getting a job at Cleopatra’s.
And then after she has the job, I’ll work on getting her.
Chapter 10
Nick
During the drive over to Jack Kahn’s office, I can’t stop thinking about my lunch with Jessie.
After Jessie’s revelation about being engaged, I didn’t think I’d be able to get through the next hour with her, but it was better than I thought it would be. We spent most of the time reminiscing about high school and all the people we used to know. It was a lot of fun.
But over the hour, it was clear the feelings I had for her hadn’t faded at all since high school. Now that she’s back in my life, I don’t intend to lose her again. One way or another, I’ve got to figure out a way to get her to dump her loser fiancé.
After we left the restaurant, Jessie hugged me goodbye. I didn’t expect it, and it took me off guard. I’ve hugged Jessie before, but this was the first time I hugged her when I’m shorter than her. She had to bend down to hug me. It wasn’t what I wanted, but what else could I do? I couldn’t stand up to hug her. That wasn’t a possibility.
When I get to Jack’s office, Pop is already waiting there. He’s dressed in a crisp white shirt and tie, even though I know this is his only meeting of the day. Like I said, my father takes his clothing very seriously. His hair has thinned out a lot in the last three years, but he’s thinned out too. Ma took the doctor’s orders very seriously after Pop’s heart attack and she started cooking healthier. She also made him quit smoking for good—even cigars. Pop grumbles about it, but he looks healthier than he has in a decade.
I take the way I look just as seriously as Pop does. I buy my clothes at the most expensive stores in the city, and get them specially tailored so they fit a guy who is always sitting. There are changes that make a difference, like making the back of the pants waist come up higher or removing the back pockets. I get my hair clipped regularly at a place one of my ex-girlfriends recommended, and even though it’s emasculating as hell to wheel into a salon, it’s worth it. The first thing people see when they look at me is the chair, so everything they see second better be immaculate.
Jack’s office is the size of a pinhole. He’s gotta pull in seven figures a year, but he never upgraded his working space. The overflowing bookcase and splintery desk are all holdovers from when he first graduated law school, before he started working for my father. It’s his office and I don’t give a shit, but when I come to see him, it’s a pain in the ass that my chair just barely fits in the meager space in front of Jack’s desk. This is why I usually use my own lawyers, but Jack and Pop both know a lot about the Lombardi family. I want their advice.
“I put in a second, higher bid on that property this morning,” I tell them. “But I just found out that John Lombardi raised his offer too.” I shake my head. “What the hell? Why does he want that shithole so bad? It’s in Jersey.”
Pop gives me a crooked grin. “Why do you want that shithole so bad?”
“That’s completely different,” I say. “We’ve got tons of properties. This is what we do. Lombardi—he does drugs and gambling. What does he need to start up in real estate for? Doesn’t he have any better ways to launder his goddamn money?”
“Whatever his plans are,” Jack says, “it’s obvious he wants it bad. That second offer you told me about, Nico… that’s a solid offer.”
“I know,” I mutter. “He messed up the whole deal.”
I’m pissed off. I’d been hoping Jack or Pop would have some insight into this, but it’s becoming clear they don’t. I came all the way here for nothing. I’m gonna have to deal with this shit on my own. Like I always do. Pop gave me my start, but after that, I built everything on my own. Our company is worth ten times what it was when he put me in charge.
“Never mind,” I say. “I’ll work it out.”
Jack and my father exchange looks. “Nico,” Pop says, “I don’t want you to use Eddie for this. I’m gonna tell him not to help you.”
Eddie. That’s a story we don’t talk about much.
Back when I first started working for Pop, I ran into a jam while building one of our hotels. One of our contractors, a hood named Russo, took our money and wasn’t delivering. I went to see Russo to try to reason with him, but he took one look at me in my wheelchair and it was obvious he didn’t respect one word I had to say. It looked like we had a long legal battle ahead of us and the hotel project would be delayed indefinitely.
I knew from my childhood that Pop used a guy named Eddie when he needed a strong message sent. I found Eddie and sent that message. And surprise, surprise—Russo got right back to work. Nobody else tried to cheat me after that either.
“That’s fine,” I say.
Jack tugs on his tie. “Nico doesn’t use Eddie anymore, Angelo. He’s got his own guys now.”
Pop looks at me with something between surprise and respect. “Oh yeah?”
I shrug.
“They any good?” Pop asks me. “Better than Eddie?”
“Yeah, they’re good,” I say simply.
I got three guys. Three guys I trust. They do what needs to be done so I don’t ever gotta get my hands dirty.
Tony, on the other hand, does his own dirty work. When a guy needs to be told something or shown reason, Tony shows up packing heat. I don’t know if my brother has ever shot anyone, but if I had to bet, I’d say he has. I don’t know if Tony has ever killed anyone. It’s something I try not to think about.
I told Tony he’s a fucking moron for doing this kind of work. He’s the boss, but he’s doing the work of a thug. He could get caught or shot or worse. But Tony likes feeling like a tough guy, so that’s why he keeps doing it. I get it. The truth is, I don’t have that option. I can’t bust into a place so easily when I’m in this chair. The guys I hire get me the respect I lose because I can’t walk.
“Nico,” Pop says quietly, “I know you want this place, but I’m telling you, you need to let this one go.”
My hands squeeze into fists. “Pop…”
“Listen to your father,” Jack says. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
“The Lombardis are different than the other guys you’ve dealt with,” Pop says. “They’re on a different level. You know that. You don’t want to mess with them, Nico. They’re trouble.”
I hear what he’s saying. My father thinks I can’t handle John Lombardi. But I think he’s wrong. And what really bothers me is I think if Tony were here, he’d be telling him something different. He doesn’t think I’m tough enough.
“I can handle John Lombardi,” I say through my teeth.
“Nico.” Pop puts his hand on my shoulder. “Listen to me. Your brother is older than you are, but you’re the one I put in charge. You’re the one who’s gonna take my place someday. You know why? It’s not because you’re a tough guy. It’s because you think.” He taps his forehead. “It’s because you don’t get pissed off and do something stupid the way Tony does just to prove a point.” He raises his bushy white eyebrows at me. “Was I wrong?”
I frown at him. I had plans for this property in Jersey and my gut is telling me I should fight for it. I don’t want to appear weak by backing down so quick. I’ve always made the right decisions in the past—every single one. The only bad decision I ever made in my whole goddamn life was diving in front of that bullet. But if I hadn’t, my brother might be dead now. So may
be it was the best decision I ever made.
But when my father tells me… no, orders me to back away, what else can I do? It’s still his company.
“Okay, Pop,” I say. “I’ll leave it be. Let them have it.”
Pop nods, looking relieved. But I still can’t shake the feeling I’m making the wrong decision.
Chapter 11
Jessie
Even though Nick promised me an audition at Cleopatra’s lounge, I’m still shocked when I get the phone call from a smooth-talking guy named Alex Mitchell, who says he’s the manager of the club. I’m in the middle of a dinner with Seth, and I nearly drop my phone into the plate of spaghetti in front of me.
“Nick Moretti says I need to get you in here, ASAP,” Alex Mitchell tells me. “He says you’re great. And that guy’s got good taste. After all, he hired me.”
Mitchell laughs at his own joke.
“What do I need to bring for the audition?” I ask.
“We’re casual over here,” he tells me. “If you can bring a tape with the background music on it, that should be all we need. Our pianist won’t be around.”
“Right,” I say. It’s been so long since I’ve been to any kind of audition, I’ve completely forgotten what to do.
We make plans to meet at the club in a few days. Seth has stopped eating his own dinner and is staring at me, his brow furrowed. “What was that about?” he asks.
“Uh…” It almost sounds too ridiculous to say aloud. “I told you that guy from Cleopatra’s said he’d get me an audition, so… that was them calling about it.”
I watch Seth’s eyes widen. “You mean Nick Moretti actually got you an audition at Cleopatra’s?”
I shrug, trying to play it off like this isn’t one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me.
“Jesus.” Seth runs a hand through his thinning hair. “I can’t believe it. I mean, no offense, but… obviously, the guy must have an ulterior motive.”
I hate it when people say “no offense” right before saying something incredibly offensive. “Gee, thanks.”
The Girl I Didn't Kill For (Jessie & Nick Book 2) Page 6