sure enough, the bar is packed with exactly who you’d expect at this hour on a Thursday afternoon. No surprise when my eyes land on Jase kicking back a shot of tequila along with the rest of the degenerates. And although the sun is shining outside, the restaurant is on the dark side with its dark wood paneling and dim overhead lighting. I squint, peering around the place until my gaze lands on Lorenzo. He flashes a half-smile that kind of says I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here with you guys, but Imma try to put up a brave front.
Yeah, good luck with that, cocksucker.
Jase joins us as we walk over to a table toward the back of the restaurant and he rises from his chair with more than a little bit of effort considering he’s way too wide to be stuffed into that corner comfortably.
Phoenix pulls out a chair and drops into it. With one hand motion, he directs us to do the same. Jase immediately digs into the bowl of tortilla chips in the center of the table, heaping on guacamole and salsa before stuffing them into his mouth. I want to roll my eyes because he really is such a douchebag, but I just look straight ahead at Lorenzo, mimicking my much more foreboding brother.
“So,” Lorenzo starts, opening his menu. “Should we start with some app—?”
“Lorenzo,” Phoenix hisses, leaning closer, hands folded on his closed menu. “This isn’t a social call. We’re not here to enjoy a nice meal together. We’re here because you said you had information for us.”
“Right,” Lorenzo replies in a shaky voice. His beady black eyes dart left and right as if he’s expecting someone to jump out from some obscure spot and attack him with a tire iron, something I may consider if this turns out to be a bullshit lead.
I’m tired of being jerked around. I’ve spent too much time chasing my own goddamn tail trying to make sense of this Moretti shit. I want real information, something we can go after. Something that can give us a clue about what Moretti is up to, who he’s working with, and how that rains down on Hawthorne.
“Look, Renzi,” I say. “We want to keep this civil, okay? You’ve already fucked us at least once that we know about. If we find out that it’s happened more than once, the appetizers you’re gonna order at your next meal won’t be your biggest priority. Figuring out how you’re gonna eat the food will be since we’re gonna rip out your tongue and teeth, one by fucking one. You feel me?”
A shudder runs through the guy and he cowers in his seat. “Look, guys, I know some things have happened lately that shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. But Moretti’s got me by the balls. If I don’t help him, he’s gonna close down my club.”
“How can he close your club if it’s in our territory?” Phoenix demands.
“He’s putting up another club right outside the area. He’s getting investors to buy into his plans to expand that area. This club is all I got, and if he throws money at his new places, he’ll crush me. Do you get that? I ain’t like you guys. I don’t have a fucking silver spoon in my mouth. I worked for everything I got. And I don’t have investors or people who can dump shitloads of cash into my place if I hit a rough spot. If he’s gonna compete with me, I’ll lose.”
“It didn’t have to be this way,” Phoenix says. “You could’ve gone to my father. He’d have helped you out.”
“When Moretti showed up on the scene, he gave me a choice. Help him out or fucking die. All I had to do was set up a few sales for him to get his shit introduced into the area. Small-scale crap. That was what we agreed to. And he told me it was to help him establish a reputation in the areas outside your territories. Then the deals moved closer.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “You wanna know what happened the first time I spoke up and asked why he was moving his shit into your area when it was just supposed to be on the outside?”
Jase shakes his head and stuffs another loaded chip into his mouth. “No, what?” he mumbles with his mouth full.
“He set fire to my fucking car.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “No guessing games. I asked the question