Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(60)

It was all about paying tribute. If a group of guys hijacked a shipment, right off the top more than half went into the pockets of the administration. After giving the associates their cut and paying off everyone who looked the other way, each man was left with barely enough to pay their rent.

A taste, they called it. Everyone always wanted a taste. They claimed, as a family, that they all worked as one. They said it was a matter of respect. They said it was the honorable thing to do.

As far as Carmine was concerned, it was utter bullshit.

Where was the respect in being summoned out of bed at three in the morning to watch a man get his head bashed in because he borrowed money he couldn’t pay back? Where was the respect in burning some man’s house down, taking away everything he had worked for his entire life, because he gave the Boss a look he didn’t appreciate? Where was the respect in intimidating a seventeen-year-old girl and threatening to kill everyone she loved because she witnessed something she shouldn’t have seen?

Assault, extortion, hijacking, kidnapping, robbery, bribery, gambling, chop shops, prostitution, corruption, arson, coercion, fraud, bootlegging, human trafficking, and murder . . . where was the respect in any of it?

He sure didn’t f**king see it.

“Bad night, man?”

Carmine glanced over as Remy slid into the booth across from him. “You could say that.”

Remy motioned for the waitress and asked her for a rum and Coke, taking it upon himself to order Carmine another shot of vodka.

“I figured,” Remy said. “You got that look about you tonight, that ‘I’ve seen shit that can’t be unseen’ look.”

Carmine pushed the empty glass aside with the others. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try to forget.”

“True, but you’re doing it the wrong way. Alcohol is a downer. As if this all isn’t depressing enough, hitting the bottle just drags you further down. You go from being a moody bitch to a miserable cunt, and nobody likes a miserable cunt, DeMarco. Not even me, and I love everybody.”

Carmine managed a small laugh at that. “It numbs me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it probably numbs you enough that you won’t feel the concrete shattering your bones when your depressed ass leaps off the top of Sears Tower,” he said. “But you should never jump unless you know you can fly, or at least float. Nobody wants to fall. That’s how you end up hurt.”

Carmine stared at Remy as he tried to make sense of his words. He wasn’t sure if he was just too damn drunk or if the man intentionally talked in code. “I can’t decide if you’re a genius or if you’re just a f**king rambling idiot.”

“Why can’t I be both?”

Carmine shrugged. Maybe he was.

“Anyway, you wanna know how you really unsee?” Remy asked. “How you really forget?”

“How?”

“Instead of dragging yourself down more, lift yourself up. You don’t wanna be numb, man. You wanna be happy.”

Carmine shook his head. Happy. He remembered a time he felt that way. “That ship sailed a long time ago.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.” A sly smile turned Remy’s lips. He leaned across the table, closer to Carmine, and whispered conspiratorially, “I think it’s time I introduced you to Miss Molly.”

“Molly?”

Remy nodded. “She’s beautiful. Just one night with her will change your life.”

* * *

It was strange, abrupt yet slow moving. One second there was nothing and suddenly it was there, tiptoeing through his veins. There wasn’t an intense rush of sensation, blinding and all consuming. Carmine didn’t feel like he was sky high. No, for the first time in quite a while, he felt like he had his feet firmly planted on the ground.

He tried to find the words to describe the feeling, but none existed. It was new, yet somehow familiar, like a combination of everything good that ever lived inside of him. It was his mother being alive. It was being in love with Haven. It was playing football, and going to college, and having a future. It was forgiveness. It was understanding. It was all that was wrong suddenly becoming right. It was sunshine, and light, and spewing goddamn rainbows. It was walking on water before turning it into wine. It was Heaven. It was bliss. It was being blind for a lifetime and suddenly being able to see. It was freedom. It was happiness. The stars had aligned and wham bam . . . motherf**king world peace.

“What is this shit?” Carmine asked, rubbing his nose absently as he eyed the remnants of the white powder on the table. It glistened like flecks of glitter under the club lights, mesmerizing him. His senses were heightened, the notes of the music echoing from the speakers rippling across his flushed skin before sinking in.

He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly yearned to play the piano again.

“I told you—Molly,” Remy replied. “Pure powder MDMA.”

Carmine smiled to himself, the first genuine smile to grace his lips in months, and he felt a burst of gratitude. Molly was beautiful. She was ecstasy.

Literally.

He had heard of it, of course, mainly being taken in pill form, but he had never encountered it before. Ecstasy hadn’t yet infiltrated his small North Carolina town as it had in the big cities.

“So how do you feel?” Remy asked. “Still numb?”