Under the table, I took Stacy's hand and squeezed, putting my insecurities aside to be there for her. She looked at me and gave me a small smile.
"Apologies if I said something that might have stayed, bambina," said Luca, apparently not the complete moron I thought him to be. "My guess? If Joey doesn't have Jenny already, he spooked her into running. I can't get involved with your family squabble, but I'm a man of my word. The engagement stands, that is if she makes it to me alive."
We were on the road driving aimlessly for about an hour after we left the club when I parked the car under a bridge.
"What a dick. He wants her, but he's not willing to do anything to secure her safety?" I ranted, still wound up after our exchange with Luca.
"I'm sorry. This isn't how tonight was supposed to go," said Stacy, staring out the window. "I have no idea what to do."
Just then, a car pulled up behind us.
"Wait here," I said, getting out to meet with the other driver.
"Did you get it?" I asked Steve, an old friend from college.
"Anywhere, anytime, anything," said Steve, handing me a box. "Payment as per our discussion?"
"Yes Steve, I'll be your sister's wedding photographer. Send me the details," I said, surprised at how quickly Steve had pulled this off, even for him.
When I got back to the car, Stacy was still staring out into the abyss. I went to her side of the car, opened the door and held out my hand to her. She put her hand in mine and allowed me to drag her out of her seat. We made our way to the front of the car, each leaning against the hood.
"Was that Stoner Steve? Scott I can't get high when my sister is—" Stacy began, panic in her voice.
"I know. It's not weed," I said, presenting her with the box and opening it up to reveal the Cuban cigars I had gotten from Steve.
"Anywhere, anytime, anything," we said together, remembering our encounters in college with Stoner Steve.
Stoner Steve could get just about anything to you for the right price. To us, he was just the weed guy on our birthdays, most of which we'd spend completely stoned. A tradition that started one year when I didn't get any birthday wishes from home until late into the night.
"You walked into a don's club after costing him over 800 million dollars and the thing he got into your head about was not giving you a cigar?" she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Little bit. So rude," I said and she giggled. "Plus the cigar seemed to calm you down. Never seen you smoke a day in your life outside of stoner birthdays, but whatever."
What I really meant was outside of with me. The reality was that she had a whole life before me though. If I wanted her, that was going to have to be okay. And I did. I was in too deep. Nothing could change that now.
"You didn't tell me Joey was such a treasure," I said, nudging her shoulder.
"You introduced me to your father only after I came home terrified and needed a bodyguard," she said, nudging me back.
"My father is FBI, Stace. He's also a dick. When he finds out who you are, if he hasn't already… but I see your point."
Despite how long we had known each other and being able to fill out questionnaires about each other in our sleep, we both had a lot going on. So much had changed in the last six months. So much was new and different. We had become something to be celebrated and enjoyed. Maybe not knowing everything about each other right this second wasn't the end of the world.
"I didn't tell you about all the stuff Luca sent because it really set you off the first time. It has not been fun constantly watching the door, waiting for more random shit to show up. I threw some of it out. Sent some of it back, but there was never any direct contact. I like our life. I wouldn't do anything to compromise it," she said, taking one of the cigars out of the box.
"I know. I believe you. He's just so… Smug and hot and dangerous and suave and stupid into you. Like your boy does not understand the concept of rejection," I said, looking at her as she lit the cigar.
"John Krasinski hot or Chris Hemsworth hot?" she asked, as though she didn't have eyes.
"Obviously Chris Hemsworth hot. Have you seen the man?" I said with a deep sigh.
She laughed, full on from deep in the belly laughter and for the first time since we left the apartment, I felt like I was doing something right.
"Is there something you want to tell me? Are you upset because you wanted his number for yourself all along? I'm not sure he swings that way, but with the mad chemistry you guys have, anything's possible," she said with a teasing smile.
"Shut up and show me how to do it," I said, never having held a cigar before.
"I'm scared," she said, as she cut into the cigar.
"Of Joey?" I asked, just wanting to share this moment with her.
"Of losing someone I love," she said, bringing the cigar up to my lips.
"Are you going to let me help you?" I asked, mimicking the way she puffed on her cigar after she had lit mine.
"People like me don't call the cops, Scott," she said and I could tell where this was going.
"How about you don't call your dad and I won't call mine? Instead, let's call Frankie," I said, offering her a compromise.
Frankie had kept her safe for over a month as her bodyguard before Stacy decided that she no longer felt unsafe. If she was going to agree to anyone helping us with the Jenny situation, it would be Frankie.
"Okay," she said, laying her head on my shoulde
r after contemplating my suggestion for some time. "We'll call Frankie."