knocks sounded and my dad smiled, pushing open the door. The bright sun flowed in, causing me to squint. Fuck, I’ve been in this place for too long. In quick succession, we stepped out and jumped into the limo—I found it to be stocked with a full bar. My eyes fell upon my second love—scotch.
“Where to, James Bond?” I laughed for the first time in a few days.
He smiled, clearly enjoying the fact that he surprised me. “I have a few friends in a few places. I don’t know why you’re surprised that I know my way around.”
“Yeah, just a bit surprised you know your way around the basement of a hospital.”
We drove for a few minutes, sitting in comfortable silence. I checked my phone. Nothing from Gia, and only a text from Dave.
Dave: Giselle reached out. Rolling Stone wants to do an interview, and they’re willing to come to you. Thoughts…
I didn’t answer and put my phone away. Giselle, Ender’s sister, was a free-lance music journalist. I suspected her visit to LA wasn’t by accident. Ender was instrumental in getting her set up in the industry. My father helped with any legalities that came up. She double majored in college and held degrees in both English and journalism. She worked her ass off, and her family was proud. However, I had my own suspicions as to why she chose the music industry. I smelled trouble and felt a hollow feeling beneath my ribs. I hoped it was just the emotional witch’s brew talking, and not an omen of something to come. Because, if I were right, the future of Lethal Abel would be on the line. Yoko Ono.
We sat around the back of a red brick building. I didn’t even realize we arrived at our destination until the door flung open and we ducked into the back door. We were met at the door by a man in Houndstooth checked pants and a pair of crocks. My father shook his hand firmly, and then introduced him. “This is Mario.”
I shook his offered hand. “Thanks for your discretion. I appreciate it.”
His eyes widened as he roved over my tatted arms and hands. “It’s my pleasure,” he said politely, gathering his hair into a small ponytail. I’ve seen this guy around. I know I have, but I didn’t have it in me to ask.
We walked through the fast paced kitchen as staff continued preparing meals for the restaurant’s patrons. “Your table.” Mario pulled out both chairs at a white-lined table for two. It was just what I needed to straighten my shit out. The table was set just past the doors to the dining area next to the refrigerated walk-in.
Mario left straight away, promising to bring water and appetizers when he returned. Again, I was grateful. I raised my brow, wondering how the old man pulled this off. “Friends in high places?” I gave him the same smirk he wore in the limo.
He sat and draped the napkin across his lap. “Called in a favor.”
I nodded, chewing on that thought. Guilt bubbled up my throat, presenting a sour taste. I wondered how many favors he’d called in for me in my short lifetime. How many debts he owed because of me.
The chef brought over a basket of bread and plates of flavored olive oil for dipping.
“So, what’s going on, son?”
What isn’t going on is what I wanted to say, but thought better of it. I was in a rough way, and I wanted to lash out at someone. “I’m fucked up in the head, but you already know that.”
He nodded and took a sip of his water the waiter had brought over. “What exactly is fucking up your head?” He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, showing me his interest in this conversation.
I didn’t look him in the eye, but instead, trained my attention on the picture on the wall above his head. Ah, to be so pious…so devout, wisely using scriptures for deeper meaning. I ran my hand over my thickening beard. Fuck, I needed a shave. But I needed a lot of things. Clarity was high on the list. “Watching—no, hearing that machine stop beeping and the aftermath that ensued. It’s on replay, and I don’t know how to turn it off. I mean, I should be thankful. And I am—believe me. But fuck, I never felt anything so real in my fucking life.”
He listened carefully, and a dark-haired waiter placed three dishes in front of us.