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The door seemed to be rotting, and the paint above it looked like it had peeled off a hundred years ago. It made sense to Julia that this was the club Sam ran.
Clamped in her left hand was a white envelope, its edges slightly curled after having apparently been lost in some drawer for weeks. It was important, according to Salieri, and Cecilia—the usual courier for these sorts of messages—was off that day, probably somewhere with Carlo. It was just Julia's luck that she already agreed to deliver the message when Salieri told her where she had to bring it.
She couldn't bring herself to knock on the door. It was deep into the fall now, and a biting November wind whipped around her ankles, and a primal feeling wanted her to burst through the door into the warmth that likely lay inside. She just couldn't bring herself to do anything.
When she felt the first drop of stinging rain run down her back above her coat's collar, however, the primal feeling won out and she gave three sharp knocks. It was the side door, not the large rolling door that opened into the street. She still had no idea what sort of club this even was—it looked like an abandoned building. Officially, it probably was.
To her surprise and dismay—and frustration, at the way her heart quickened—Sam himself opened the door.
"Julia," he said with a start, his eyes slightly wide. She was glad she shocked him. She had been so busy with work the past several months that ever since that night in the bar, they had yet to see each other again. She was almost over him and her feelings. Almost.
"Don't get your hopes up, chief. This is a work related visit."
He stepped aside and she walked in, trying not to grin smugly. It was easier now, facing him like this. Though she still spent nights awake, staring at the ceiling, agonizing over the embarrassment she'd allowed to fall upon herself during her outburst at the bar, enough time had passed that she felt newly made. She could almost convince herself that she didn't care what he thought. Almost.
"Since when do you go around delivering letters?" he questioned, closing and locking the deadbolts on the door behind them.
"Since when do you run a boxing club out of an abandoned building?" She turned on her heel all the way around, taking in the sights. It wasn't much to look at. She had expected some illegal gambling, betting tables and old slot machines, but this was a new low. At least he probably made a lot of money off those men fighting on dirty mattresses. Rigged, too, most likely.
"Ouch, Julia." He walked up beside her and moved to take the letter from her hands, but she held onto it tighter and snatched it out of his grasp.
"Can't you ask or say please first?" She was unnerved and slightly bothered by how casual he was acting after everything that happened that year. Perhaps he had long forgotten and moved past it. It was likely that he had, and that frustrated Julia even more.
Sam sighed and stepped back. "Please, Julia, can I have the letter?"
She gritted her teeth for a moment before she decided she couldn't breeze past it. "No, you can't, Sam. Apologize to me."
"For what? The hell are you talking about?"
Julia's coat suddenly felt much too hot for the inside of the club. She planned to ask for an apology all along—one day, once she saw him again and felt like she could—but now in the moment she felt exactly how she had felt that night in the bar. Helpless, but mostly hopeless. But it was really Sam who was the hopeless one, she realized. Too hopeless to realize that a stupid reporter was in love with him despite her best efforts not to be.
She wished that those months would have made her realize that she should not, and could not, have feelings for Sam Trapani, but all they did was make her feel hate. She hated that she still liked how clever and bold he sounded when she overheard the deals he made. She hated that she felt bad somewhere in the back of her mind whenever she worked herself up and got mad at him—again—for the way he treated her. She hated that she wanted to kiss him right now.
"Forget it. Take the letter so I can get back before the rain starts pouring." She held it out to him limply.
He grabbed her wrist instead, his palm cold. She looked back up at him, startled by the feeling.
"Julia," he started, then stopped with a deep sigh. He looked off into the club, his fingers still wrapped loosely around her wrist. To her surprise, he finally looked back and met her gaze. "Julia, I'm sorry that I'm a complete ass, and that you have to deal with me when you've got a real life to worry about." He grabbed the letter in his other hand, then slid his fingers up from her wrist to wrap them in hers. "And I'm sorry about this."
Julia closed her mouth when she realized it was hanging open. "Well, is that all?" She laughed quietly in disbelief.
"Don't kid around. I'm dying over here, making an idiot outta myself."
"Is that why you needed to hold my hand? Perhaps I should fetch some barbiturates?" She couldn't keep from joking. His behavior was too surreal, and she wasn't sure it was entirely genuine. She couldn't imagine the motive if it wasn't—even he wasn't that cruel.
"You're the one who wanted to hold my hand, Daniels." He dropped it, now clutching the letter in both of his, but he still stood comfortably close.
"That I did," she said softly, her gaze moving across his face. It was unreadable, just like always. "I accept your apology, I suppose."
"I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up again."
"You can ask me about my lovely new coat instead."
"New?" He looked her up and down, and she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "I dunno. Looks the same as every other coat I've seen you wear."
"I thought you apologized for being an ass."
"I asked you not to bring it up again."
"Bring what up again?"
He rolled his eyes—a smirk tugged at the sides of her mouth—and shook his head, walking off to some office at the back of the building. She followed, which he apparently expected her to, as he began talking again.
"Come to a match one of these nights. Bet on who I tell you to. I can make you a lotta money."
"Is that safe?" She scrunched her nose up, looking at the papers and photos pinned up on the walls. Some of them were particularly unscrupulous and she turned away with a blush.
"For you, yeah. Not so much for the ones betting on the other guy, but those ain't our problem." He slid the envelope in the bottom drawer of his desk without opening it.
Julia assumed he already knew what was in it. So much for making this trek all the way out here to face him again; but then again, perhaps she had gotten something out of it after all. An apology. A handhold. Only one thing did her mind foolishly dare to imagine might happen next.
He turned around and saw her red face and was taken aback. Then he side-eyed the walls and realized what she had been looking at. "Oh, yeah, eh, let's get back out there. You drive here?"
"No, unfortunately for me." The sound of rain was prominent now against the metal roof and walls, clanging about. At least she hadn't heard any thunder or seen any lightning. That would just be unpleasant.
"I'd offer to drive you back, but I got a meeting in—"
There was a hideously loud banging noise. Julia jumped a bit, imagining at first it was a clap of thunder, but then she realized it was just someone at the side door.
"There's the guy. Look, you get out of here by that door over there." He gestured to a different side door, off near his office. By the location Julia guessed it led out into the back alley. Not exactly where she wanted to be walking, but she supposed she had no choice.
"Good luck with your meeting. I'll get a cab." She smiled at him, but he was already walking off to answer the other knock.
That was enough, she thought. She got what she wanted. Some semblance of closure from Sam Trapani, and she believed she could get over him now. There wasn't much to get over, of course, beyond the several years she had known him and harbored dicey feelings for him, but it was something nonetheless. Julia could now go back to work and be able to make it through the day without thinking once of him, and she could go to Salieri's without—
"Julia, wait."
She turned around to find Sam already standing just a few feet from her. The man on the other side of the door knocked again, louder, impatiently. She stood restless too, waiting for what he had to say.
Instead Sam strode forward and grabbed her by the chin, tilting her head towards his. He searched her face for a moment, for just a breath, and as she closed her eyes he closed the space between them. His other hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, almost a little too firmly, but she returned the gesture by wrapping her hands together around the back of his neck.
It was over too soon and he nearly pushed her off him, but she left that to the third knock that had just sounded. He straightened his tie and once again looked put together, as if he hadn't just pulled her into a kiss after everything else he had done entirely out of his character.
"It is a nice coat, Daniels. Now get out of here before we both get yelled at by the Boss." He turned around again without another word.
Julia stood dumbfounded for a moment more, only shaking herself from her stupor when she realized he was nearing the other door. She went hurriedly out the back, gently closing it so she didn't alarm the visitor.
She went down the alleyway, then stopped, staring off towards the street. The rain was put off here by the large, angled roof of the building next door, but she could see it bouncing off the pavement ahead, sending ribbons of light across the black and gray of the road.
Sam had seemed unperturbed. But then again that was Sam. She thought she knew him, but she knew you could never really know a man like that, not until he really let you. She let herself look back and dream.