Page 53 of Romeo vs Romeo

I agreed with a firm nod. “He learned about it this morning.” Since Everett had sent me the recording, I had been pacing in my apartment and waiting to hear back from Layla. She carved out this time to hear me out and offer some advice, and for that, I was grateful. But time was something we didn’t have, and every minute I spent sitting down was a minute I felt like I lost.

“Does he have any clue about the timeline?” Layla asked.

I shook my head. “The end of the week. Maybe the end of the month. We’re on red alert at Mama Viv’s. If he sends some of his thugs to intimidate us, I’m worried our peaceful protest isn’t going to be peaceful for long.”

“It’s incredibly important to avoid violence, Roman,” Layla said. “I can file another motion for Langley’s corporation to be blocked, but that will only buy us weeks. My colleagues are putting together a strong case for Neon Nights being a New York landmark. And what you’ve done in awareness campaigning is above and beyond everyone’s expectations.”

“Thank you, but I’m afraid that it’s not going to be enough,” I said. “I’m out of tricks.”Except for one. The thought wormed its way into my mind.One trick that will break the heart of the guy you’re in love with. “The best I can do now is to try bocking the demolition team by lying down on the street.”Not that a die-in has ever worked before. I looked at her, suddenly feeling like a very little boy who needed a grown-up to take over. “What do I do?”

Layla rose to the occasion and quite literally. She moved her chair back and stood, her hands resting on the desk. “Keep me informed. Whatever little whisper or hint you get, message me. Iwill press the judge with urgency, but there is not a lot we can do on short notice without incriminating evidence against Langley. Even so, keep the communication channels open. And when this is over…” Layla licked her lips while she paused, her big, brown eyes fixed on me. Finally, she nodded. “When this is over, my team could use someone like you, Roman.”

I let out a scoff-chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t think I was made for pretty offices, but thank you. We can think about that after.”

She nodded slowly, smiling. “I think you are wrong about that. I think that this is very much what you were made for.”

We parted then with a sense of doom and gloom. I doubted I could pull anything off without throwing Everett under the bus, and that was the one thing I refused to do. I hated that my clearly visible anxiety was nudging Everett in that direction without me ever saying a word to that effect. If I asked him to sacrifice his emotional well-being—and twelve fucking million—then I wasn’t sure I could ever repay that debt.

I wasn’t a very good boyfriend. I hadn’t had that much practice. How could I hope to be enough of a prize once he lost everything?

These were the thoughts that haunted me until the afternoon when the rumbling of bulldozers chilled everyone’s blood.

CHAPTER 13

Tearing It Down

Roman

Everett’s message was short.“It’s happening today. I’m on my way.”

I was still in my underwear, sitting at the dining table, milk dripping from a spoonful of cereal, and my head was stuffed with cotton after just waking up. Nothing could have cleared my mind as quickly as the adrenaline injection that came with his message.

Hurrying up to eat my breakfast so I wouldn’t have to fight on an empty stomach, I dialed Mama Viv before anyone else. She picked up after a moment, some sort of premonition telling her this was important. I could hear it in her voice when she answered that she understood why I would be calling at seven in the morning.

“Today?” Mama Viv asked after I had told her.

“Today,” I repeated.

There was a moment of silence as if she needed to rise against the waves of fear and surprise. “Very well. Thank you, Roman. We better roll our sleeves.”

After swallowing the last bit of breakfast, I trapped the phone between my ear and shoulder and carried the bowl and spoon to the sink. “I’ll phone the usual suspects, and you can call on your old patrons to see who would be willing to show up.” One thing was for sure: we weren’t getting the landmark status by noon.

I imagined Mama Viv would let Bradley and Tristan know. Tristan would call Cedric, who had been on a steady media tour since his appearance at Neon Nights, promoting the cause and sharing part of his personal relationship with the bar.

Running to the bathroom to shower, I called Luke Whitaker next. I let the water run while I applied a smidgen of shaving cream above my upper lip and over my chin. Luke answered my call after a few moments, his voice soft like he hadn’t been awake for long.

“Rome?” he asked.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I said, nicking myself with the razor. Dammit, I only had three inches of skin to shave, and I couldn’t do it without a massacre. I realized I was trembling. “I need you to mobilize your fans. Today. The sooner, the better. We have to pack Neon Nights with supporters.”

Luke gasped, his tone sharper and more alert. “I’ll do it. I can be there in an hour.”

“Is Rafael free?” I asked, sliding the razor over my chin with great care.

Luke spoke away from the phone, then returned to me. “He is now.”

I didn’t have the right words to thank him. This right here was the power of Mama Viv’s lifelong generosity. People dropped everything the very moment she was in need.

Once Luke and Rafael were locked in, I took a quick shower, hurried back into my room, and called Martha while putting my clothes on. She would spread the word among our activist group.

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