Page 84 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
JOE
The auditorium isn’t as packedas the last time we were here. When I think of everything that’s transpired in the short time since then, my mind boggles. I peek at the crowd from backstage, and there’s a nervous energy in the audience.
The company’s theme song begins to play, and people settle into place, quieting down. I look at Rand, and he smiles as he scruffs my beard.
“This is not my strong suit,” I admit, grateful for his hands on me.
“Are you actually nervous, Portelli?”
I raise my brow at him. “You trying to start something, Wolfe?”
He swallows thickly, cupping my junk. “Maybe.”
“We’ll see how troublesome you are when I’m back on top tonight.”
His cheeks flush, and he briefly looks away.
“I do like it when you get shy around me,” I say, gripping his hand.
I’m not sure what this thing is between us, and I don’t know that now is the right time to consider it, but I know it isn’t just fucking. These small touches we give each other are intimate. They come naturally. And nothing about this feels casual.
I peek out into the audience and spot Edgerton and his guys at the exits, a reminder that there will, at some point, be a confrontation with my father. And I wonder if there’ll ever be a time when I’m not straddling these two worlds.
The music drops off, and my attention goes back to the stage and its single spotlight in the middle. My buddy, Garza, moonlights as backstage crew for St. Ann’s in Brooklyn, and I asked him to work in a little drama for the occasion.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, but right now, it feels like I’m walking through the blackness of space toward the only bit of light on the planet. I can barely see the people in the audience, only the shadow of them from a castoff of the spotlight.
Shooting Rand one last look, I step out onto the stage.
My expensive cross-trainers sound sharp against the wood as I finally hit my mark under the spotlight. The gasp in the audience takes me by surprise. I look over at Rand, standing there all elegant and cool, and he gives me a single nod. Supremely confident in me, it seems.
Smiling in spite of myself, I face my coworkers. The greeting I practiced seems stiff and impersonal, so I start the conversation with my friends the way I always have. “How you doing? Miss me?”
The resulting laugh is deeply satisfying, and I shift in place, sneaking one more look at Rand, whose proud smile nearly undoes me.
“Me and Garza—we wanted to do this whole thing with the lighting, but now that I’m here, it feels like I’m in an interrogation room. Do you mind if I switch things up? I can’t see any of you, and it’s freaking me out.”
More laughter and clapping. Without me having to say anything further on the subject, Garza brings up low lights around the house, softening the dark stage.
“There you are,” I say to the audience, grinning even bigger. “Never mind, now I can see every one of your ugly mugs. Maybe this was a mistake.”
Garza switches back to the spotlight, and the laughter is even louder this time. I can’t help it. I laugh along.
“Ha, ha, Garza. Put the lights the way you had ‘em.”
A light chuckle filters out over the audience as he brings back the low lights.
Before I can get into my speech, someone, I think Tony from the production team, pipes up, “So what the fuck, dude? Was this some sort of setup?”
I shake my head. “Garza was sitting next to me that day. He can attest to the fact that I hadn’t planned a damn thing.”
“I kept telling Portelli to shut the hell up,” he yells from the back, netting another laugh.
When the laughter dies down, I continue, “True story: the day after our confrontation, I was up, back on the docks at five-thirty a.m. Then this one,” I say, tilting my head to the man offstage, “had someone take him on a helicopter to come talk to me. Apparently, calling out their corporate bullshit caused a tiny kerfuffle in the stock market.”
I follow this with a what can you do gesture, and the crowd laughs again.
“So, no, this wasn’t some crazy stunt. This was me hearing someone spout some really tired bullshit and being unable to deal with it anymore.”
