An Offer He Can't Refuse (26 page)

"I've Been Too Busy"

Sammy Davis, Jr.

Mr. Wonderful
(1956)

Later that afternoon, Johnny did what any self-respecting
older sibling would do—he decided to take his lousy mood out on his younger brother. He brought Cal along with him to Michael Magee's bar, The Bivy, in nearby Half Palm. The forty-five-minute trip was much too long a time to be alone with his own thoughts and the man who he glimpsed in the rearview mirror. Johnny didn't recognize himself anymore.

It wasn't yet five when he pushed open the front door of the plain stucco building. This bar wasn't the favored watering hole of the Coachella Valley's wealthy set, it was the place where climbers from around the world relaxed after a day scaling the massive boulders in Joshua Tree National Park or the granite peaks of the San Jacinto range.

A lean, dark-eyed, dark-haired man with a stubbled jaw looked up from behind the bar as they walked inside. He crossed his arms over the ratty T-shirt that he wore with equally ratty jeans and raised a brow at Johnny. "I think you dudes have the wrong joint. Go back out the parking lot, turn left, and your first country club will be on the right, about thirty miles due south."

"We'll take a couple of bottles of Corona first," Johnny replied, hitching up his khakis to slide onto one of the barstools. "If there's a clean glass to be found in a dump like this."

"Only pussies drink their nondraft beers from a glass," the bartender said, plunking a couple of sweating bottles in front of the two men. "So then it must really be you, Johnny."

"It'll be just like old times to kick your ass, Michael." Johnny smiled at his younger brother, his mood beginning to lighten. "I can't wait."

Then they shook hands, each trying to outgrip the other. The battle lasted for ninety seconds before they broke apart, both of them grinning.

"Dog," Michael said, leaning across the bar again to smack Johnny on the side of his arm. 'Took you long enough to get over here. I thought I was going to have to mail out an engraved invitation."

Johnny shrugged. "I had things to do." The fact was, he'd been in no hurry to make contact. While he loved his family, he'd always felt outside the little genetic circle of Phineas, his mother, and half-brother Michael.

But after that uncharacteristic, out-of-body episode in his bed with Téa this afternoon, he figured he'd benefit from spending some time with his nearest living male relative. It would remind him of exactly who he was. Smooth, cool Johnny who would never be fixated on the past. Smooth, cool Johnny who would never leave his bed partner flat.

He tipped his beer bottle toward Cal. 'This is Cal Kazarsky. Cal, meet my low-life little brother."

They shook hands. "Cool shirt," Cal commented to Michael.

His brother glanced down at his chest and smiled. The slogan of the day read: don't worry, it only seems kinky the first time. "I had to sneak it past Felicity. As much as I love the woman, she has no appreciation for my T-shirt humor."

"How is the new Mrs. Magee?" Johnny asked. His brother had married just a few months before.

"See for yourself." Michael picked up a remote control and thumbed it on. The television mounted overhead blazed to life, displaying the GetTV home shopping channel logo across the bottom and an irrepressible Felicity Charm Magee center screen.

Cal scooted his barstool closer. "Hey, I recognize that woman. I've always liked her."

Michael shook his head in sympathy. "Everybody does. But she belongs to me."

Cal was already engrossed in the details of the product Felicity was selling. Michael glanced at the screen, then Cal, then finally Johnny. "Should we wrestle his wallet from him until she goes off air? She could cost him a bundle."

Johnny shrugged. "He can afford a bundle. He works for the syndicate."

"Still pulling in the dough, huh?"

"You know me." Yes, it had been a good idea to come here, he decided, tilting back his head to take another swallow of beer. Already he was feeling more like himself. Johnny Magee, successful professional gambler. Johnny Magee, who was successful because he was the kind of man who operated in a completely objective and unemotional manner.

That was the true secret to success at gambling. Once you made decisions based on anything but logic, you were already a loser. Pure detachment was the best mind-set with which to play—at gambling and at life.

"Yeah, I know you," Michael said, leaning on the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest again. "And you look like hell, Johnny. What's going on?"

Unwilling to let his brother's pronouncement ruin his happier mood, Johnny examined the label on his bottle of beer, running his finger around the edges. "Is it my fault you have no appreciation for good tailoring and shirts that don't come complete with their own raunchy worldview?"

"Oh, you still appear to have walked off page seventy-eight of this month's
GQ
, and Felicity goes ga-ga over those kind of looks so I might have to deck you, but that's not what I'm talking about. There's something in your eyes."

"It's the desert, it's dry—"

"It's serious bullshit you're trying to sell me, brother."

"
Half-brother
." Johnny didn't know what made him say it. No, that was bullshit too. He was warning Michael off, telling him he was getting too close. Johnny Magee, slick, cool Johnny Magee, liked his conversations, just like his relationships, shallow.

'The Heisman isn't going to work on me this time, Johnny."

The expression startled a laugh out of him. He hadn't thought of it in years, the reference to the stiff-armed position of the Heisman Memorial college football trophy that was Magee family code for keeping someone at bay. "How is Phineas, by the way?"

"Dad's a little busy."

"Oh?" Johnny inspected the beer label again.

"Yeah, he's spending a lot of time tying Mom to chairs in order to keep her from flying down here and saving your ass."

He jerked up his head to stare at his brother. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You think she hasn't figured out why you all of a sudden picked up your tent and hauled it down to Palm Springs? She's been terrified of your father's mob connections for years."

"We don't know that there
are
mob connections, damn it." Or mob criminal activity, either. The Mafia and his father's murder had rarely been spoken of in the same breath within the Magee household, but it had always been there, just something else setting Johnny apart from the rest of the family.

But he had to face the possibility that there was a real connection, now that neighbor Phillip believed it could be true. It was why Johnny had changed his mind on Friday night about taking Téa to bed. He'd figured she'd never forgive him or herself for making love with the son of the man who'd killed her father. But now he'd blown that scruple all to hell, hadn't he?

Worse, he hadn't done something as civilized as make love to her. He'd lost his mind then lost himself inside her body.

And gave her nothing back.

Michael stepped closer, his gaze on Johnny's face, "Are you trying to tell me this relocation isn't about the Carusos?"

Johnny hesitated. Bluffing was second nature, but lies never came easy.

"He told me we moved here for you," Cal tossed into the conversation, his gaze still glued to the TV screen. 'To be nearer to you and your new wife."

This time it was Michael who laughed. "You're too good at this, Johnny. But it won't work with me. You need to save your fish stories for the part of the world that isn't related to you."

"I came to your wedding," Johnny protested. Damn it, that "
you're too good at this"
remark didn't sit well with him. First, it had come out of anchorwoman LaDonna's mouth and now Michael's. It was as if they thought he was only skin-deep.

For God's sake, he only wanted to live that way.

"But you've been little more than a ghost to Mom and the rest of the Magees for at least the past decade."

Actually, for the last sixteen years
, Johnny thought. When he'd returned home following his father's murder he'd been numb. Not numb enough that he hadn't noticed his family's worried looks or their attempts to draw him back in. But getting close had meant getting personal, and he hadn't wanted such intimate attachments anymore. Not with people, not to his own emotions.

He sighed. "Listen, Michael. I'll call Mom… soon. I'll reassure her that—"

"Oh, that you're
not
looking into your father's death? For God's sake! The Carusos are dangerous. You're the one who told
me
that a few months back. You know what happened to Felicity's cousin."

"The woman doing the interior design of Johnny's new house is named Caruso," Cal piped up again. "Téa Caruso."

Michael groaned. "Johnny—"

"She's pretty hot," Cal added, "Not that I'm interested in her. But I think your brother might be."

Michael groaned again, louder. "Johnny, no. You can't be thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking. I know about those Caruso girls. Felicity went to school with them. If your idea of a righteous vendetta against that family is screwing one of th—"

"I'm not screwing Téa!" Well, shit, the truth was, he had. "I don't
screw
women." Not usually, anyway, which was what made the afternoon's episode with the contessa so unconscionable. Mr. Slick, Mr. Cool Johnny Magee didn't have relationships on the heart-to-heart level, that was certain, but he did a damn thorough job on the body-to-body level. He prided himself on that. That was who he
was
.

Michael stood over him, shaking his head. "These people are killers, Johnny."

"You don't think I know that?"

"You break the daughter's heart and you might get more than your leg broken in return."

"I'm not breaking anyone's heart." But hell, he'd done
something
to Téa. The contessa had stared up into that mirror, aghast, and declared herself a "mess." What kind of asshole let a woman leave his bed with a comment like that?

Especially when she'd looked as erotic and enticing as hell to him. Just the memory made him sweat.

"Damn," Cal said. He'd pulled out his phone and was looking down at it in consternation. "I want to buy that bracelet Felicity is selling for… for someone I know."

"There's no cell service in Half Palm," Michael told Cal. "Consider yourself lucky. I know I do. It's how I met my wife."

Johnny polished off his beer, then stood up. "Come on, Cal, I'll take you back to civilization and you can make your call from there." He had things to do in Palm Springs as well, he decided, suddenly certain of his next move. It was time to even the score with a Caruso, all right.

With
Téa
Caruso.

It would be a start on reclaiming his identity that had been on unwelcome hiatus since his thirty-third birthday, the date those nightmares and flashbacks had begun. Mr. Slick, Mr. Cool Johnny Magee knew how to make a woman happy in the sack. He had to prove to himself that while he might be losing his mind, he hadn't lost
that
.