I continue with my silence. Quite honestly, I have nothing to say. I helped him without even informing Big D as a reference for Munick, something I did occasionally, not always wanting to merge or match associations with him. Right now, it’s clear to me that Dave is beleaguered. Whatever he’s attempting to get off his chest is heavy. His eyes pace the table below.
“All of the suicide attempts, monies stolen, jewelry disappearing into midair. Christ…the kitchen window being broken after we’d taken his house keys—none of that compares to having your child missing for months, fearing him dead. I had to step up and do something most unconventional.” Snapping out of it, he squares his shoulders and moves his gaze to me with newfound determination to get through this conversation.
“You’re being investigated by one on my team.” Dave eyes me cautiously for a reaction. I give none. This isn’t news to me. My people informed me months ago that Lombardi reported to a Dave Munick. I could’ve reached out to him to gauge his position, but I didn’t jump to play that hand; I kept it in my pile of cards to pick when needed. Even since Big D’s arrest. I’ve doled my cards methodically. “And I’m sure it comes at an inconvenience to a man of your…repertoire.”
Still, I give him nothing. He isn’t speaking with the right type of clarity. I’ll just wait. We play the eye game for what feels like hours. I will not fold until he shows his fucking hand.
Then there’s a spark in his eyes, a sudden revelation. “You invited David to meet someone. Am I correct in assuming it’s a special lady? Men of your stature don’t go around introducing Betty from the Blackbook. I know you’re a private man, so I’ll have to take a guess. Is she your leading lady…wife perhaps?” The flicker in his eyes tells me he’s done some research, but I don’t confirm it.
I go for my brandy. “I’ll tell you like a friend of mine has so eloquently coined it.” I take a sip. “I got ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain’t one, Captain.”
He gives a snort, apparently picking up my connotation. “Not only is the case, leads, and evidence futile—consequential inspiration at best, but Lombardi has blown his self-initiated case by sleeping with an associate of the suspect,” Dave says, conspicuously as he sips his drink, not removing his eyes from mine.
“An employee?”
He nods. “…of Cobalt. A Tracy Edwards?”
Tracy, my assistant manager, is fucking Lombardi? Get the fuck outta here…
“You don’t seem very surprised, Azmir…” Dave is eyeing me questioningly again.
“Surprised is an understatement,” is all I give him.
He expects me to be shitting bricks right now about the threat of my former empire being infiltrated. However, what he doesn’t know is that I don’t double dip on employees. My legal associates remain legal and my illicit acquaintances stay on their side of the tracks. Ain’t shit Tracy could give One-Time unless she manufactured it.
“Well, be that as it may, Lombardi has been reprimanded. Not sure of his sanctions, but he will be of no consequent to you moving forward.” Dave exhales long, indicating the wrapping of this extremely informative confab. He empties his glass with his body inclined, “I may never be able to utter a formal thanks, but I can get that pisser off your back before I retire, and hope that this Sabrina that David has mentioned will give me grandbabies.” Dave takes from the table.
“Goodnight, Azmir,” he mutters as he takes to the door. I make note of his obedience to the name reference immediately. I’m not too far behind him, on my way to the marina.
I feel weightless with this news. Although Lombardi wasn’t pushing with much, it’s never a good look to have One-Time on your ass. The last few months of my reign in the drug game had been risky with him on my heels. Nobody wants to fuck with a marked man. Although I’ve been retired for months, I’m a very lucky man to have dodged several bullets stemming from Lombardi’s investigation. I race home to my wife. My life.
When I get in, Rayna’s sleeping on top of the beddings. Her laptop is open and I see she was working on staff reports when she fell into slumber. I remove the laptop from the bed, then the decorative pillows before pulling down the beddings to plant Rayna inside. I carry her delicately because that’s exactly what she is to me. I’ve gotten my piece of joy and now I can enjoy her without the threat of losing her to my dark past.
As I strip down to just my boxers, anxiously ready to join my wife in bed, I deliberate on how I’ve just gotten news worthy of celebrating. The irony in it is the only person I want to celebrate with is the precisely the one I don’t want to know a damn thing about it. I study her while she sleeps and realize that Rayna has brought me the motivation I needed to finally leave the game. It was certainly in the plans, but her abrupt presence propelled me to walk away from it all.