5 Bad Moon (28 page)

Tozzi nodded. “Okay.”

She moved forward tentatively, then put her arms around him and hugged him, resting the side of her face against his shoulder. The long bronze corkscrew curls covered his arm like a blanket. “I’ll be in touch, Tozzi. Not right away. But I will call you sometime.” She pulled away, looked him in the eye, and pressed her lips into a smile. “We’re still gonna be friends, right?”

“Yeah
…
of course.” He stared at the light bulb, blinking back a tear.

She pulled away from him and walked backward toward the other door. When she opened it, the clash and clatter, bright lights, and steamy smells of the kitchen invaded the dim peace of the storeroom.

“See you around, Tozzi.”

“Yeah
…
See you around.”

She went into the kitchen and shut the door behind her. It was dim and quiet again. Tozzi was all alone in a roomful of cardboard boxes with her smell on his shoulder.

Shit.

When he went back out, Gibbons was sitting by himself at the bar, staring up at the ball game on TV. Tozzi went over and took the stool next to him. “I just talked to—”

“I know,” Gibbons said. “Roy told me. Whatsa matter? Can’t afford a motel?”

Tozzi didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the mood for snappy repartee.

Gibbons nodded back toward the booth. “Lorraine and her buddy are yakking about college again. I couldn’t take any more.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Listen, I wanna buy you a drink for your birthday. Something special. From me to you.” He waved to the bartender. “Hey, Roy, you got any of those nice single-malt Scotches? You know the ones I mean? The names all start with ‘Glen.’”

“I’ve got Glenfiddich and Glenlivet.”

“Whichever one is better. For both of us. Straight up.”

“You got it.” Roy flipped two rock glasses onto the bar, grabbed a bottle from the rows lined up against the mirror, and poured. Normally Tozzi would’ve preferred his on the rocks, but the way he was feeling right now, straight up sounded properly medicinal.

Gibbons picked up his glass and looked at his partner. “I don’t believe in bullshit toasts, Tozzi. You know, long life and happiness and all that fortune-cookie crap. It’s all wishful thinking and false hopes as far as I’m concerned. But this one’s just for us, Toz, for no particular reason at all. For us and all the Joe Blows in the world who get up every morning, put on their pants, and do what has to be done. To hell with worrying about what the future brings and to hell with getting older. Don’t even bother thinking about it. The secret to life is simple: You just gotta keep moving, Toz. Keep your hands on the wheel, your eye on the road, and just keep going.” He clinked Tozzi’s glass.

Tozzi nodded and sipped his drink. It went down smooth with a warm afterburn. He held up his glass to the light and stared into the amber liquid.

“Tell me something, Gib. You think Stacy and I could’ve made something together? Something more permanent, I mean.”

“I’m not following you.”

Tozzi nodded toward the back room. “She just gave me my walking papers.”

“Oh
…
Sorry to hear that.”

“What I’m wondering is, could a guy really have a serious relationship with a woman half his age? I mean, it’s not like I would’ve been the first guy in the world to try it.”

Gibbons savored his second sip as he considered the question. “Nope. Not the first guy, and not the last.”

“So you really think it could’ve worked out?”

“Hey, I was rooting for you. It was those two”—he nodded back toward the booth—“who thought it was so awful. And not because of her age. They just think you’re a pig, that’s all.”

Tozzi nodded and glanced up at the TV. Some guy was taking a shower, smiling like he’d just won the lottery. A soap commercial. “Well, no use crying over spilled milk. I mean, she still wants to be friends, so something could happen later on down the line. But I sorta doubt it.” He took another sip of his Scotch as he stared up at the TV. “Stacy Viera. She’s a good person. If the circumstances had been different, I bet we coulda made a go of it. But anyway
…
” He looked down into his drink. “I have a feeling her face is gonna be in the back of my mind for a long, long time.”

“Her face? That’s the part you’re gonna remember?”

Tozzi scowled at his partner. “Shut up, you dirty old man, you.”

The commercial changed then, and the familiar bass line started thumping out of the TV. They both looked up at the same time. On the screen, the camera panned that gleaming gym until it found Stacy in her metallic purple tights, curling that barbell up and down, up and down, smiling seductively into the camera as her boobs jiggled like Jell-O.

Tozzi shook his head. He didn’t need this now.

Roy rushed over and reached up to change the channel. Tozzi stopped him. “It’s okay. Leave it, Roy.” The bartender lowered his arm and shrugged, then went back to what he was doing.

Tozzi watched the rest of the commercial, staring at Stacy’s face, wondering
…
just wondering.

“At Knickerbocker Spas, we want you to come on in and PUMP IT UP!”

Stacy kept curling the barbell, smiling into the camera as the music faded and the commercial ended. The next image was a live shot of the grounds keepers at Shea Stadium picking up the trash that the fans had thrown into the outfield.

Gibbons was humming to himself. It took Tozzi a minute to recognize that the tune was “My Way.”

Tozzi stared at him. In all the years they’d been partners, he didn’t think he’d ever heard Gibbons hum, sing, or whistle. But what was more surprising was the song he’d picked. “I thought you hated Sinatra.”

“I do. This is the Elvis version.” He continued humming.

Tozzi recalled the lyrics then, the stuff about the guy looking back over his life and all the regrets he doesn’t have. “You’re not funny, Gib. Not funny at all.”

Gibbons stopped humming. He crinkled his eyes, shook his head, and clapped Tozzi on the shoulder. “Welcome to middle age, goombah.” He knocked back the rest of his Scotch and banged the empty glass on the bar. “Now you can buy
me
a drink.”

Tozzi just shook his head, went into his pocket, and laid a twenty on the bar. Gibbons had his thumb and index finger over his eyes, his shoulders bouncing as he laughed like a set of squeaky, worn-out brakes.

Tozzi was just about to take his twenty back and tell Gibbons he could buy his own goddamn drink when something caught his eye in the mirror behind the bar. She was blond, straight hair, older than Stacy, a more mature look—

“Thinking with your dick again, Toz?”

Tozzi shot him a dirty look in the mirror. “Mind your own business.”

Gibbons shook his head, showing his teeth. “Face it, Tozzi. You’re never gonna grow up.”

Tozzi killed his drink, then waved to Roy, pointing at their empty glasses. “I hope you’re right, Gib. Who wants to end up like you?”

“Go scratch, will ya?”

Tozzi looked at his partner sideways, then glanced up at the ball game on TV. He was smiling like a crocodile.

Bad Guys:
A Gibbons and Tozzi Novel (Book 1)

Bad Guys
, the first book in the Gibbons and Tozzi thriller series, introduces FBI agents Mike Tozzi and Cuthbert Gibbons, odd-couple partners and dedicated mob-busters. Hot-headed Tozzi goes renegade, and Gibbons is pulled out of retirement to stop him. Together they uncover a secret crime family headed by Richie Varga, a convicted mobster pulling the strings from the safety of the witness protection program. When Tozzi gets involved with Varga’s sexy ex, the fur really starts to fly.

Bad Blood: A Gibbons and Tozzi Novel (Book 2)

In
Bad Blood
, the second book in the Gibbons and Tozzi thriller series, FBI agents Mike Tozzi and Cuthbert Gibbons get into deep trouble when they investigate a deadly partnership between the Mafia and the Japanese yakuza. Gibbons takes a severe beating from a deranged assassin who believes he’s the reincarnation of an ancient samurai, and Tozzi vows revenge. But the sword-wielding madman is itching to sink his blade into Tozzi. The Godfather meets The Seven Samurai spiced with a healthy dose of humor.

Bad Luck :
A Gibbons and Tozzi Novel (Book 3)

Bad Luck
, the third book in the Gibbons and Tozzi thriller series, takes FBI agents Mike Tozzi and Cuthbert Gibbons to Atlantic City to investigate shady dealings between the mob and a celebrity real-estate mogul. Add an oversexed trophy wife, a Mafia boss who pretends to be a mental patient, his sister (the nun), a championship prizefight, and Gibbons’ reluctant wedding preparations, and Bad Luck serves up a hilarious killer cocktail.

Bad Business: A Gibbons and Tozzi Novel (Book 4)

In
Bad Business
, the fourth book in the Gibbons and Tozzi thriller series, FBI Special Agents Cuthbert Gibbons and Mike Tozzi get into hot water when the turncoat mobster they were assigned to protect is found murdered and Tozzi is the prime suspect. A dirty Assistant United States Attorney has been ordered to throw a major drug case to pay off a debt to a Sicilian gangster, but Gibbons and Tozzi are determined to bring order to the court. Enough lethally wacky characters to fill a courtroom.

Bad Apple: A Gibbons and Tozzi Novel (Book 6)

FBI agents Cuthbert Gibbons and Mike Tozzi are on the case in
Bad Apple
, the sixth book in the Gibbons and Tozzi thriller series. When an undercover FBI agent is murdered, the mob and the bureau race to nab the triggerman. The prime suspect takes Tozzi hostage and handcuffs him to the Mafia princess they both desire. The big boss captures Gibbons, intent on seeing justice served his way. A wild gut-wrenching ride that just doesn’t let up.