A booth in the back was empty. He slipped into it, barely having enough time to sit down when a woman stopped right in front of him. He looked up at her, their eyes connecting right away as her serious expression shifted with a smile. “DeMarco, right?”
It took him a moment to place her face . . . the same waitress who had served him last time. “Uh, yeah. Hey.”
“You want your usual?” she asked. “Vodka?”
He was stunned she remembered. “Yeah, sure.”
“And your friends?” She turned to them. “What can I get you fellas?”
They rattled off their orders—scotch for Remy and a beer for the other guy. The waitress walked off, returning with their drinks in a matter of minutes, and Carmine downed his before she even had a chance to walk away. She let out a laugh, holding her finger up to silently tell him to wait, and retrieved the whole bottle of Grey Goose from behind the bar. “Anything else you need, just let me know. My name’s Eve.”
“Thank you, Eve,” Remy said, winking. “You can call me Adam.”
Carmine rolled his eyes as the girl laughed before walking away. “That was fucking terrible.”
“Hey, girls love that cheesy shit,” Remy said. “I know my girl does.”
“You have a girlfriend?” Carmine asked, pouring himself another shot.
“Yeah, her name’s Vanessa. How about you?”
Carmine downed his second shot. “No, no one.”
“Well, then.” Remy took a swig of his scotch. “Lucky for you, Eve seems interested.”
Remy pointed with his glass and Carmine turned his head, spying the waitress leaning against the bar. Her eyes were focused directly on him.
Sighing, Carmine turned back around and said nothing.
The night wore on in a haze as the alcohol flowed freely to their table. They drank the hours away, laughing and yelling and carrying on. Girls came by their table, flirting and giggling, mooching off their drinks instead of buying their own. Carmine hardly noticed, too drunk to even care.
Too drunk, in fact, to care about much of anything.
It was after midnight when the atmosphere suddenly shifted. The thumping bass from the speakers abruptly cut off, and the chaos of the crowd dulled to a murmur. Carmine looked around, tensing as his uncle casually strolled through the club, his hands in his pockets. He headed to his office but stopped at the entrance to the hallway when Eve yelled his name. She said something to him, pointing directly at their booth, and Carmine blanched as he turned around. Fuck.
Corrado diverted then, bypassing the hallway to head straight for them. “Carmine,” he said, his eyes scanning the three of them. “Gentlemen.”
“This is Remy,” Carmine muttered, pointing at him. “And this is . . .” He hesitated. He didn’t even know the other guy’s name.
“I know who they are,” Corrado said tersely.
“Mr. Moretti, sir,” Remy said. “Great club you have here.”
Corrado nodded, but offered no response to the compliment.
“We were just getting a drink,” Carmine slurred. “You know . . . or two.”
“I see that,” he said. “You guys just be careful getting home.”
“Yes, sir,” Remy said. “Thank you.”
Corrado’s eyes lingered on Carmine for a moment before he walked away, disappearing down the hallway.
Remy shook his head, gulping the last of his drink. “Man, he’s intense as fuck.”
Carmine laughed bitterly. “You’re telling me.”
* * *