Chapter Nine
Six months later
“Can I get a dirty martini and a G&T?” Aggie asked from the service stall.
Gio looked up from the taps, completing a stout pour, and acknowledged the order with a short nod. Friday night, as usual, meant a packed house at Lonnegan’s, and December brought people seeking post-shopping comfort. Close to seven, Gio expected much of the crowd to soon signal for checks in order to get out in time for nearby movie seatings and late dinner reservations. He looked forward to the brief lull, and sitting down for a few minutes, before receiving the first trickles of the late-night rush.
For now, he fulfilled Aggie’s latest booth order and set the cocktails near the stall. “How you holding up?” he asked her.
Aggie took a drink in each hand, winking. “Tips are good tonight. Must be that generous holiday spirit.” Indeed, the glass container on the bar overflowed with dollar bills as well.
After finalizing the transition of the pub to The SSG Group’s ownership, Gio had left collections behind for a crash course in bartending. Salvatore and his consigliere elected to keep the Lonnegan’s name and decor, since the community identified so well with it. The only change made to the business involved adding liquor from a local distillery—another San Gaetano venture—and some creative accounting.
Vic, Gio heard from Aggie, now ran errands for a different capo on the other side of the city. Still lived with his mother and refrained from patronizing Lonnegan’s. If any of the other San Gaetano associates were aware of a gay man among them, they paid Gio no mind.
Gio remained an associate, yet to hear talk of a full initiation into the family. Truth be told, if he stayed a low-level mobster and manager of a pub front in his old age, fine by him. From day one, he’d established a rapport with the ready-built customer base that enhanced his nights behind the bar. A few veteran drinkers had been sad to see ownership change hands, but Gio liked when they shared their memories.
He served drinks and listened in as they talked. Three months into the job, he’d learned from those who’d called on the Malloys that Conor’s father had slowly recovered to the point he no longer required home hospice. Friends attributed the recovery to a divine miracle, but Gio guessed that the absence of mob pressure allowed Hugh Malloy to focus on his health and gradually heal. Gio was happy for him, and for Conor, though the news that the Malloys had sold their home and retired to Ireland canceled out that joy.
Unless a cousin or other relative over here married or died soon, Gio figured Conor had no reason to visit. He hadn’t looked at another man since Conor had rolled out of his sight after the meeting at Salvatore’s, nor had he patronized JT’s. The don hadn’t forbidden him from going there, however. Long hours at Lonnegan’s left Gio exhausted in his free time, too tired to carry himself anywhere else but his bed. If Gio caught the interest of a man while at Lonnegan’s, he acted aloof. Of the three servers in rotation, Aggie got the most phone numbers, but she wasn’t interested in men, either.
At the moment, the aspiring mob queen wanted to learn more about the pub. After the movie crowd bundled into their winter coats and filed out, she brought over a tray of empty glasses to wash. “How about a trial run?” she asked. “Next order, you let me make it.”
“Aggie, you know the rules.” Gio flicked his gaze to the window, watching light snow swirl in the wind. “You’re still too young.” At nineteen Aggie could wait tables, but twenty-one was the minimum age for bartending.
The look she flashed Gio begged the question, You know where we are, right? Sure, it seemed ludicrous for Gio to impose one rule when certain activities in the pub’s back office bent and broke others. Customers didn’t see everything behind the scenes, however. Flying under the radar required concessions, and Gio reminded Aggie she had to wait a while. “If you want,” he said to her, helping her with the glasses, “you can practice on me after we close.”
“Can’t. I have a date.”
Gio arched an eyebrow at her. Lonnegan’s closed at one in the morning now. “Where?”
“A nice little bistro up the block called Nunya Bizness.” Aggie laughed. A blast of cold hit them from the right, indicating a new customer. “Incoming,” she said, her word for when somebody claimed a barstool, and moved to one side. Gio glanced at the end of the bar, where the newcomer was unwinding a thick scarf from around their neck and pulling off their knit cap…
…to reveal a head of gorgeous ginger hair flecked with wet snow. Conor Malloy sported a mustache and short beard now, but Gio focused more on the man’s eyes. Lively and bright as ever and, at the moment, fixed on him.
His heart thumping harder, drowning out the music piping through Aggie’s app setup, Gio brought over a fresh coaster and a bowl of pretzels. “ Dia dhuit .” He wanted to sound nonchalant, but the excitement he felt spilled over into his voice. He damn near chirped, seeing Conor sitting before him.
“Hello, yourself.” Conor’s smile was an all-over caress, an invisible tease Gio felt stirring in his jeans. “This place turned you Irish?”
Gio gave a soft laugh. “I learned a few phrases. Getting ready for St. Patrick’s Day.”
“Of course.” Folding his arms on the bar, Conor panned his gaze past Gio at all the shelves and their contents. “You haven’t changed a thing, I see.”
“It wasn’t broke, nothing to fix,” Gio said, following Conor’s slow track across the wall behind him. Hugh Malloy’s original wall of fame remained intact—the celebrity photos did well for the pub’s cache, so the don believed. Gio liked having the pictures with young Conor close as well.
“It looks great.” Conor paused, his face flushed. “It’s fecking freezing out. I’d love an Irish coffee.”
“You got it.” Fulfilling that order meant fetching coffee from the pot at the other end of the bar, and passing Aggie to get there. Gio ignored her wide grin and waggling eyebrows as he poured the coffee into a round-footed glass mug. Just because Conor decided to visit an old haunt didn’t mean he’d come for Gio.
Still, one could hope.
Gio prepared the rest of the drink in front of Conor, and asked about the Malloys. “They are well,” Conor told him as he supervised Gio stirring Irish whiskey into the coffee. His eyes widened at the application of the whipped cream. Gio liked to think Conor’s mind bloomed with alternative uses for it.
“They are settled in retirement housing outside Dublin, so they’re not far,” Conor added. He looped his fingers around the mug handle, but paused before sipping. “I try to visit often.”
He drank through the cream, getting some on the tip of his nose. Gio longed to lean forward and lick it away. The few patrons in the pub weren’t paying attention, and if they were, fuck ’em.
“Happy to hear it. How’s the location management thing?”
Conor wiped the cream from his nose with his finger and tapped his lower lip. “It’s why I’m here, actually. The studio acquired the rights to a book set in the area. They want to go for authenticity and they have the budget to accomplish it.”
“So…you’re scouting sites in town for real this time.” Intriguing . Gio let him talk.
“The story is set in the eighties, and there are places around here that haven’t changed much since then,” Conor continued. “One site I’m looking for is an Irish pub.” He paused and held Gio’s gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to know one that’s available for a few months?”
Gio felt his lower lip crack when he smiled. “Yeah, I know a place,” he said. “The manager is quite amiable, too. He’d be open to hearing a pitch.” He crooked his neck toward the back doorway leading to the office. “He might be in now. Want to check? Happy to escort you.”
“Sure.” Conor pushed his Irish coffee aside and slid off the stool. “Why don’t you bring that along?” he asked, indicating the whipped cream canister.
It wasn’t a complete lie. Conor’s studio had indeed optioned a book to film. Mona had read it and recommended it to him a few years ago, independent of his job, and he thought it might make a good movie one day. That he was assigned to scout locations for it happened by serendipity.
This wasn’t the only town on the east coast with antiquated buildings and an Irish pub, but Conor knew the streets. He also wanted to satisfy his curiosity, and the business trip approved by his superiors now became personal.
A month after the pub had sold to the San Gaetanos, Conor returned to Dublin when he felt confident enough in his father’s improvement. The Malloys had decided on their own to return to their home country, and Conor was only too happy to find them a reputable assisted living facility. Cousins and the prospects of school reunions aside, Gio remained the one true reason he’d want to return. However, Conor had expected the passage of time to dilute his attraction to Gio, and vice versa.
Yet, the moment he saw those amber eyes soften with quiet desire, Conor bade goodbye to his reserve. He checked Gio’s fingers for a wedding band and, seeing just bare skin, aimed high. Gio waved him toward the back and informed Aggie he was on break. “Don’t touch anything,” he instructed the young woman as he untied his apron, and Conor chuckled at her heavy sigh.
Da’s old office changed little as well, Conor saw as he stepped inside. The same posters and framed photos hung on the walls, and the same books and binders slanted against each other on the far wall shelves. Conor imagined the biggest change here involved the ubiquitous ‘extra accounting books’ that defined mafia business strategies, but he wasn’t here to question Gio about his work ethic.
The door closed behind him. Gio pressed himself against Conor’s back in a loose embrace. “Am I correct to assume your location scouting story is bullshit?” he asked, and kissed the back of Conor’s neck. “I mean, you’re not pulling away.”
Quite the contrary. Conor melted into Gio’s touch and tilted up his chin, baring his throat for when Gio steered him so they stood face to face. When the kisses trailed upward to Conor’s lips, he tasted cold lemon-lime soda and salt. Everything else, from the way Gio palmed his ass to the urgent press of their groins, felt as though the universe had pressed an unpause button. He’d missed this more than he realized.
Conor tapered off the kiss and swiped the tip of his nose along Gio’s cheek, showing his affection. “Partly,” he said. “I am in town for work, and I am looking for a pub like Lonnegan’s for the shoot. It would be the primary setting in the film.”
“No shit?” Gio touched Conor’s face. “How long does it take to make a movie?”
“Most of the ones I’ve worked on average about three months for the shoot. Pre-production is about the same, sometimes longer depending on how many locations are needed,” Conor said. He touched his forehead to Gio’s, swaying in place with him. “For this particular project, I could be here about six, seven months total.”
Gio smiled and a pleased sound rumbled in his throat. “I’ll talk to my capo. They won’t lend the place for free, so you know.”
“Of course. We’re not looking for charity. I have a budget, and the good thing is we wouldn’t have to change much of the interior,” Conor said, looking about the room that time forgot. “It’s perfect as it is, and we’d shoot in the small hours when you’re closed.”
Gio lowered his gaze and reached for Conor’s hands. Conor noticed he’d forgotten the whipped cream, and when confronted Gio said, “I’d rather taste just you. Fuck, Con, I missed you.”
“I missed you, Gio. I couldn’t stay away.” This confession got him a tighter hug and a kiss.
“So, if you’re gonna be here half the year, you have to stay somewhere. Not with that lawyer cousin of yours?” Gio asked.
Hell, no. Patrick and his wife were civil enough, but Conor wanted his privacy…among other amenities. He shuffled backward a step until he caught the edge of the desk, and rested against it. “That’s next on my list of places to scout,” he said, not resisting when Gio picked at his belt. “Maybe you can help.”
“I know the perfect apartment. Spacious kitchen, comfortable bed, and your roommate doesn’t snore.” Gio unzipped Conor’s fly. “The locks were changed recently.”
“Good to know.” Conor sighed as Gio dipped under his briefs to stroke his cock. He hoped Aggie knew how to mix drinks and not to knock on closed doors. “Will I, uh, find any surprises under the mattress?”
Now on his knees, Gio nuzzled Conor’s exposed groin and stared up with an innocent gaze. “You might, but it’s added protection,” he said. “As for what you’ll find under the sheets, here’s a preview.”
The stretch of Gio’s plush, pale red lips tightening around the base of his dick awed Conor. Gio had gone from zero to holy fuck in seconds, encouraging Conor’s surrender to his seduction. The knot in his chest, a persistent ache during their six-month separation, loosened and began to dissolve. Conor raked his fingers through Gio’s dark hair and sighed.
“I missed being with you. That’s the truth,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t at least text—”
Gio pulled off Conor’s cock and squeezed. “It’s okay. Your dad was sick, and you moved them halfway around the world.” He rocked back on his heels. “I had stuff to figure out here, too. I’m just glad the boss has kept his word so far. I’m alive.”
The ‘old cishet white men’ were still pressed under Aggie’s thumb, Conor guessed. The girl was going to end up running the family one day. Conor wanted to work on that film if it ever got made. “Are you a full member yet?” he asked, adding when Gio shook his head, “Will it happen soon?”
“Who knows? If not, maybe they’ll let me change careers. I’ll ask Aggie to bend the don’s ear, let me retire young.” Gio flashed a wide smile, his lips shining wet. “This movie…they hiring extra crew?”
“Depends.” Conor sucked in a quick breath when Gio licked his flagging cock. “What are your skills?”
“Besides this? I’d be great at security,” Gio said, rising to his full height. He closed in on Conor and pecked him on the lips. “Come stay with me during your film shoot and you’ll see firsthand how protective I am.”
A tempting offer, one that had a yes forming in Conor’s head. A job like his didn’t require a bodyguard, but given the nature of the locations he scouted in the city, one couldn’t hurt. “I think we can start you on a probationary period,” Conor told him. “Would you be available for the entire shoot?”
“The full six months, or longer if necessary.” Gio kissed him again. “Say, the rest of your life?”
Conor nodded. “You’re hired.”