Like you don’t know, you sadistic mother fucker.
“It’s nothing. I’m all right.”
Vito forked some pasta and shoveled it in his mouth. “Angelo said he ran into you at Harrah’s the other day.”
Brennan nodded and stared at the wine. “He did. I heard Frank is recovering from his health scare nicely.”
Vito showed his teeth in another grin after he chewed and swallowed. “Yeah, he’s taken to drinking his veggies. I don’t see how he can choke down liquid veg like that, ‘cuz it looks like vomit and smells like shit. But…” He shrugged, waving his fork. “That fat fuck is down about thirty pounds, so I guess it’s workin’ out for him.”
“Yeah, sounds pretty healthy.” Brennan turned the wine glass again.
Vito dumped a gulp of wine into his gullet and then wiped his mouth. “He mentioned you were with a fine young thing that night. Someone from outta town? Said she had legs like a thoroughbred.” He chuckled in a vulgar manner, and Brennan pinched the stem of the glass so hard that it trembled. “All the finest specimens of the weaker sex seem to be outside the greater New Orleans area, and I’m thinking I might need to venture out sometime. Where’s she from?”
Brennan tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Just out of town.”
“How’s she likin’ the Big Easy?”
Brennan turned a steely gaze to Vito, attempting to shoot daggers through the tinted glass of his tacky brown shades. “Well, she hasn’t been able to get out and about much since she’s been laid up in the hospital with a coma.”
Vito’s salt-and-pepper eyebrows crawled up his forehead, and his jowls pulled into a frown. “Something happen?”
“Yeah, something happened, Mr. Moreci,” Brennan clipped, “and I think you and I need to have a conversation.”
Vito wiped his mouth again, pushed the plate forward, and rested his elbows on the table. “And what kinda conversation would that be, kid?”
“One in which you give me an explanation as to why you came after an innocent woman when your beef is with me.”
Vito became still as a statue, hands clasped as he stared at Brennan. Brennan stared right back.
Fuck this seedy old fuck. The stillness was an intimidation tactic, as if by ceasing all movement he could remind Brennan that he had no problem knocking off anyone he saw fit.
After a solid five seconds of stillness, Vito dropped his napkin onto the table and removed his shades to reveal a pair of unamused blue eyes. “You making some kind of accusation, Brennan? Because I think it would be pretty disrespectful to come into my establishment with an accusation like that, if that’s what I think you’re trying to insinuate.”
“I’m not insinuating anything, Mr. Moreci. I’m informing you that I require an explanation and some kind of restitution, because what your guys did was way out of bounds.”
“You’re accusing me of being responsible for happened to your broad?”
“I don’t need to accuse you. I know what you did, and so do you.”
Vito hacked a cough and laughed. “I gotta commend you for having some pair of balls like this, Brennan. But I also gotta say that you’re the one who’s way outta bounds right now, because whatever happened wasn’t my guys.”
Brennan gritted his teeth. “With all due respect, Mr. Moreci, that’s bullshit.”
“Is it, now? Is it bullshit?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“You got some kinda evidence to offer? Or are you just tryin’ to pin some unfortunate series of events on me?” Vito gestured at himself and then at Brennan. “‘Cuz I see no evidence. I see a ballsy kid coming into my house, tossin’ unfounded accusations at me when he’s supposed to be payin’ his marker. And that’s a problem.”
Brennan pointed a finger at Angelo, way the hell across the room, as he continued to stare down Vito. “You’re trying to tell me you didn’t deliver on that threat you had Angelo hand off to me at Harrah’s?”
Vito shifted his gaze to Angelo, who was at the far end of a neighboring table. He cleared his throat. “Angelo.”
“Yeah, Uncle V.”
“Come over here and talk to me.”
Angelo shoved back his chair and moseyed across the room. He caught sight of Brennan and slapped his shoulder. “Brennan, good to see you again.”
