I shrugged and gestured around. “There’s gotta be a bar we could hit.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed out?”
“You’re not allowed out alone.”
She snorted. “So I have to go somewhere with you.”
“Pretty much. You want to have some fun, that’s the deal.”
She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. I wasn’t shy about the way I looked at her, and she didn’t seem like she minded. I caught her looking right back the few times I’d gone swimming and she chose to perch up on a chair, cheering me on while she scrolled through her phone. I think it was her attempt to annoy me for a change, but I happened to like the company.
“I’m not sure this is going to be fun.”
“Come on, I’ll show you a good time, I swear.”
“You have no clue how many guys I’ve heard that from over the years.”
“Guys like me?” I came around the counter and walked toward her.
“Guys just like you. Guys that wanted to suck up to my dad.”
“He’s a big boss out there, yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah. And I hate it.”
“Well, you’re in luck, because I don’t give a shit who your dad is, and I don’t give a damn about the mob.”
“You’re working for them.”
I shook my head. “I’m taking their money and babysitting a pissed-off brat.”
“I’m not a brat,” she snapped, then sucked in a breath. She gave me an annoyed look, but she’d softened a little bit, I could already tell.
“Come on. I’ll buy you a few drinks. You can ignore me the whole time, if you want.”
“Fine,” she said. “Nothing better to do.”
“You’re a peach. Go get changed, put on something pretty.”
She laughed. “Only if you do too.”
“Gladly.” I turned and walked toward the stairs.
“Hey, wait, are you serious?”
“I’m serious,” I said, and started climbing up. “Get dressed for me, princess.”
I heard her call me an asshole, but there was no bite behind it, and I smiled the whole way up.
Fortunately, I’d brought a few suits with me. I didn’t own many nice clothes, never had a need for it, but every man has to have at least one or two suits. I got mine from a friend of a friend, a guy that really knew his shit, and also stole them from a more expensive boutique place. I got dressed and headed downstairs. I poured a drink and finished it off as I waited, and felt a strange jump of excitement in my chest when I heard her come down the stairs.
She turned around the corner and I swear my breath caught in my throat. I always heard of that happening in TV and in books, but I never really understood what the hell it meant until that moment. I felt it right there in my throat and my chest, and I couldn’t breathe for a second as she stopped in the hallway and smiled a little bit, her cheeks turning slightly pink, a confused smile on her lips.
“What?” she asked.
“You look fucking gorgeous.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You’re being an asshole again.”
“No, I’m really not.” I stepped toward her. “You look incredible.”
And she really did: the dress was short, showing off her lean legs, and the perfect shade of blue to make her eyes shine like spotlights. She had her hair down and back, and held a little clutch in her hand.
“You look okay yourself.” Her smile didn’t falter, and I met her gaze for a few beats. I was tempted to make her stay home with me and see who could get undressed the fastest, but I figured she’d win that one, since I’d rip her damn clothes off her body in two seconds flat, and there was no sense in ruining a nice dress like that.
“Come on then.” I offered her my arm. “Let’s go see the local establishments.”
She slipped her hand through my arm and I expected her to make some comments about me being an asshole, but instead she smiled and let me lead her outside and down the steps.
The night was crisp and comfortable, and we walked through a quiet suburban neighborhood. “Hard to imagine a mob boss keeps his wife around here,” I said.
“I bet the neighbors would flip.”
“Probably show up with pitchforks, like in Frankenstein.”
“Can you blame them? Mona’s such a monster.”
I laughed and we walked along until we came to a wider avenue. We headed up a short hill, following the main flow of cars, and the houses began to get more spread out, until they disappeared entirely, replaced by a cute little downtown area.
The suburbanites were out in force. Lots of boomers in fancy outfits, a few packs of teenagers, little kids running from bench to bench. I found a halfway decent spot called Parlor Twelve and held the door open for her.
We sat at the bar toward the far side, with our backs to the wall, and a good view of the door. I didn’t plan on practicing good defense, but shit, might as well anyway. The place was an upscale gastropub sort of thing, with lots of metal and repurposed wood, the lightbulbs giving off that warm orange old-timey glow. The bartender was overworked, covered in tattoos, and seemed like he couldn’t have been bothered to serve us, which seemed about right. She asked for wine, I asked for whiskey, and held it up when the bartender banged the drinks down in front of us without making eye contact.