Chapter 4
CHRISTIAN
T he party is over. But I’m also not dismissed for the night, so I hang out with the boys in the strip club surveillance room while Jero goes and speaks to Ettore in the adjoining office. I’m a nobody in Ettore’s eyes so he rarely speaks to me directly.
“Cosmo fuck up again?” one of the security guys asks, thumbing toward the back stairs, where I assume Cosmo has been taken.
“Yeah. Caught him jacking off behind a potted fern at the Don’s daughter’s party.”
He makes a low whistle.
Jero exits Ettore’s office, interrupting further discussion, and his eyes latching on me. “We’re up.”
“Laters,” I say to the guys, following Jero down the stairs. He doesn’t head to the usual interrogation room, but one further on that houses a gurney and lots of white cabinets. It’s giving off a medical vibe.
“Are we operating on someone?”
Before Jero can answer, the door opens, and a man enters wearing a rumpled suit.
“Evening, Temple,” Jero says.
“Evening, Jero.” Temple loosens his tie with rough, angry movements before he pulls out a metal medical table on wheels from where it was housed against the wall. He begins rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out items, and placing them on the top.
Well, color me curious…
The door opens yet again. I step aside as a couple of boys drag Cosmo in. He’s naked and gagged. They don’t miss a beat as they strap him down on the gurney.
Meanwhile, Jero takes a pair of rubber gloves from a little box on the wall and fights to put them on over his big hands. Finished with Cosmo, the boys exit the room. Temple grimaces and takes a seat on the plastic chair against the far wall.
Jero picks up a scalpel from the table.
Cosmo grunts behind his gag and yanks on the restraints.
I eyeball the array of medical-looking shit spread out before turning back to Jero in question.
“We’re just removing one,” Jero explains.
Alright then. “Sounds good,” I offer. I expect him to go for a finger, so I’m confused when he moves to stand over Cosmo’s shriveled junk.
My brows rise and I share a look with Temple, aka rumpled suit guy. “I’m a doctor,” he explains. “Here to make sure the patient doesn’t die.”
“Can I do it?” I asked Jero.
“Wot?” Jero shakes his head and fixes me with a glare. “No, mate, you can’t do it. You’re not even remotely qualified.”
“Qualified? Were you like a surgeon or something in your past life?”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course not. I’ve just practiced this before.”
“You have?”
The scalpel is still in his hand. Cosmo’s eyes are showing a lot of white when I spare him a glance.
“Really? How many times?”
“Twice,” he admits.
Doctor Temple makes a disparaging noise.
“The first one died,” Jero adds, cutting a glare at Temple.
Cosmo ramps up his thrashing.
“Well, that’s not a very good track record, is it?” I say.
“It’s better than yours,” Jero says, which I can’t argue with. “If you fuck up and kill him, Mr. Gallo is gonna be very disappointed. Better if I take any flack for a mishap.”
“Alright then,” I say. “But go slowly. I feel like this is an important skill in my repertoire, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
“You know you’re not normal, yeah?” Jero asks as Cosmo continues to thrash and grunt.
“That’s a bit rich coming from you.” I stab my finger in his direction. “You’re the one wielding the scalpel.”
“Fair point,” he says.
“Are we going to give him anything?” I ask. “What if he twitches at the wrong time?”
“He won’t,” Jero says, turning to Cosmo. “Will you, mate?”
Cosmo shakes his head frantically.
“Is there going to be a lot of blood?” I ask.
“I’m cutting a bollock off,” Jero points out. “So, you know, there’s going to be a bit. It would be a lot easier if I were just whipping them both off. Quick slash, pop them out, and cut. Job’s done.”
Cosmo’s thrashing suddenly stops, and his body goes slack.
“He’s passed out.” I can’t hide my disappointment.
“Yeah,” Jero says. “That’s a shame.”