Page 1 of Second in Command
one
Enzo Andonetto
new york city disco, 1977
Sometimes I wonderif I’m getting too old for this.People all around me, dancing like drunken, coked-out fools. Dozens of shirtless men, half-naked women, and performers prancing around with only a cloth wrapped around their waist.
Strobe lights gyrate to the beat of Donna Summers,I Feel Love.
Ooh it's so good, it's so good
It's so good, it's so good
It's so good
Ooh I'm in love, I'm in love
I'm in love, I'm in love
I'm in love
Ooh I feel love, I feel love
I feel love, I feel love
I feel love
The lights up above me flash left, right, blue, red, and green, a singular disco ball hanging from the ceiling only enhances the ambiance. But it doesn’t help my mood. I’m here five days a week, drinking, snorting, and picking up women. From my booth, I sit slightly slouched with a drink in my hand. My legs spread wide as I stare out into the open space with manic partygoers. I let out a breath and turn to my companions, who stare at me as if I’m crazy, while their noses are covered with powder, the white lines still appear on the table. Marzo and Leo were fellow soldiers, but Gabriele Caldarelli, I grew up. I’ve known him since I was eight.
Theywere having the time of their lives—Me,not so much.
My eyes dropped, and I pressed my lips in a thin line. Of course, they couldn’t relate.
Years and years of partying—I would’ve thought that we’d all grow tired of it at some point—at least by now.
I was tired of hiding in lounges, with the other creeps who stood in the corners to ingest heaven knows what. I was tired. I was tired of the bitter taste of alcohol, and the way it made me feel. I was tired of being told that this was the way to unload after a week of hard work.
At my ripe old age of 29, there had to be more thanthis.
“If you need something to liven you up,” Marzo throws a hand over my shoulder and points to a group of women dancing on the opposite side of the room, “maybe you should take a bite out of those apples.”
I squint my eyes, trying to pick out which one was the prettiest. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint where I’d seen them before. The alcohol was dimming my brain.
“Yeah,” Leo replies, slapping the ass of the woman who had fallen onto his lap. She yelps, but he silences her with a hand around her throat. The woman sways back and forth, hardly able to keep herself upright.
“Leo, I don’t think she should be here anymore, she looks like she’s on the verge of an overdose,” I bark at him, noticing the girl’s bobbing to and fro.
Leo’s face drops into a deep frown. His hands wrap around her waist possessively.
“Stop dipping in my kool-aid, Enzo,” he snaps, “maybe if you had a woman, you’d be less of an asshole tonight.”
“I’m just saying,” I spit out. “Rape doesn’t look like a good charge to add to your long list of inconsistencies.”
Leo pops up ready to fight—the girl, tossed to the floor like a napkin on his lap. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
I watch the girl fall over onto the couch. She groans, struggling to lift herself from the upholstery, and I shake my head.
“Hey, Leo, relax,” Marzo places a hand on his chest.
