30. JOEY
JOEY
I sat behind my desk in my office, a cigar smoldering in the ashtray beside me. I flipped through the stack of invoices in front of me. Some were real—detailing legitimate repairs, oil changes, and tire replacements. Others? Not so much. I skimmed one from Gino’s Auto Supply —a cover for a weapons shipment that had come in last week. Another from West End Supply disguised a cash transfer meant for a payoff. My fingers lingered over an invoice for a ’58 Cadillac, a routine service on paper, but in reality, the car had been stripped for parts after its owner met an unfortunate end. I sighed, tapping the edge of the paper against the desk before tossing it onto the “ handled ” pile.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.
“Yeah?” I called out.
The door creaked open, and Sal walked in. “Got a problem.” he said.
I took a long drag of my cigar before stubbing it out. “What is it?”
Sal sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not bad. Not too bad, at least. It’s just about the job you gave me—keeping an eye on Adriana.”
My jaw tensed. “What the fuck are you talking about? Spit it out,” I snapped.
He hesitated. “She’s safe,” he started.
I slammed my palms onto the desk and pushed myself to my feet. “You’re starting to piss me off, Sal. Get to the fucking point.”
He exhaled sharply, eyes flicking to the invoices scattered across my desk before finally meeting my stare. “She’s seeing someone.”
My pulse spiked. My fingers curled into fists. “ Who ?”
Sal shifted on his feet. “Arthur.”
I blinked, my mind scrambling for recognition. “Arthur?” I repeated slowly. “Coach Artie?”
Sal just nodded.
I stared at him, my pulse roaring in my ears.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
The air in the room grew thick, suffocating , as I let Sal’s words sink in. Coach Artie. The last person I’d ever expected her to be with. I ran my hand over my face, trying to suppress the mountain of emotions consuming me. “Artie? You sure about this?” I muttered, barely able to believe what I was hearing.
Sal shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, he just dropped her off. He took her for a coffee down at the diner.”
I gritted my teeth. I could already feel the anger bubbling up. She was mine to protect, and now Artie— Coach fucking Artie —was worming his way into her life. Another obstacle I was going to have to tackle.
As Sal left, I stood there, my hands gripping the edge of the desk, fury and frustration swirling within me. I wasn’t going to let anyone take her from me.
The bell above the shop door jingled as I stepped out. My mind was clouded with the image of Artie and the anger that had settled deep in my gut knowing he was taking Adriana out for a fucking coffee. I gripped the wheel, heading towards Adriana’s place, the familiar route doing nothing to calm the fire raging in my chest.
As I approached her door, I hesitated for a moment, but knocked anyway. She opened the door, her smile warm but cautious. “Joey? Hi.”
“Can I come in?” I asked. She hesitated for just a second before stepping aside, letting me pass. The door clicked shut behind us. “Where’s Antonio?” I asked, scanning the room.
“With Enzo and Michael,” she said, her eyes studying me, as if trying to figure out why I was here.
I nodded, exhaling the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My gaze drifted, trailing up the soft curve of her legs to the delicate pink dress hugging her waist just right. She looked perfect . Too perfect for a night spent with anyone besides me. “You look beautiful,” I murmured.
She glanced down, smoothing her hands over the fabric. “Thank you.”
Silence settled between us. I could dance around it, pretend this was just a friendly visit. “How was the date?” I finally asked, watching her closely.
Her eyes locked onto mine. “How’d you know about it?”
I let out a slow breath, tilting my head slightly. “It’s a small town, Adriana. People talk. And I hear everything .”
She didn’t respond right away; just stood there, rocking back on her heels, her fingers twisting at the fabric of her dress. The air settling between us was thick enough you could cut it with a knife. I took a step closer. “So? How was the date?”
“It was fine,” she finally said.
“Fine,” I repeated, letting the word hang between us.
She lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “Artie’s a good man.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Yeah? That what you’re looking for? A good man like Artie? ”
“Seems like a smart idea.” I let out a dry laugh, stepping even closer until there was barely any space left between us. She held her ground, tilting her chin up at me. “And why does it matter to you, Joey?”
“You know why,” I said.
She crossed her arms, her eyes searching mine, challenging me. “No, Joey. I don’t know why. So why don’t you say it?”
I could feel the words clawing their way up my throat.
I reached up, brushing a knuckle along her jaw, slow and deliberate. “Because the second I say it, I can’t take it back.”
“I think you should go,” she whispered.
I leaned in, my lips just a breath away from hers. I could feel her breath against my lips. Her eyes never leaving mine. “Tell me to leave like you mean it,” I murmured.
Silence.
Crickets.
I smirked, closing the small gap between us, my lips capturing hers in a slow kiss. My hands found her waist, pulling her against me, her body molding to mine like she belonged there.