Chapter Text
Monsoon rain crashes down overhead, hundreds upon thousands of raindrops hitting the roof and sliding effortlessly off. The back door remains open and Jonnie knows that the puddle on the concrete patio is encroaching into the house.
A foot away from him, kneeled with his hands out in his classic guileless look, is his best friend. His only friend, the only goddamn person in the world who could put up with Jonnie and everything wrong with him and still believe that something good could come out of him. The grip of the gun is warm and slick with sweat, and despite what the Don warned him, Jonnie's aim wavers.
He doesn't see a guy in the way of a job that he's gotta do, he sees Big Jimmy. He sees his fuckin' friend.
The line of blood from his temple grows, snaking down the left side of his face. Jonnie's got a matching mark above his own eye from when the Don and his guys gave him a roughing up, but the rain managed to wipe the evidence of his own beating away. No amount of water in the world could erase the image in front of him. It don't matter how this day ends: Jonnie's never gonna forget the look that Jimmy's giving him right here, right now.
"Jonnie?"
It's just them two.
Jimmy's mom just turned and left to go back into the garden to find her husband and while Jonnie's not dumb enough to believe that the Don and Vincenzo are trusting him to do this job alone, they're outta the picture for now. It's just the two of them and if Jonnie were a better man he'd drop the fuckin' gun and haul Jimmy off of the floor and hold on tight to his hand and race through the house to get to the front door and they'd leave and never come back and finally get out of the world they've both been trapped in since their sorry lives began and everything would be fine except it's not fine and Jonnie's not a good man.
He's never gonna be a good man.
One of Jimmy's hands moves to the floor so he can keep his balance. "Are we still gonna leave like we were sayin'? Just the two of us?"
They're never gonna be able to. Not anymore. "Yeah." His voice breaks on the single word but maybe Jimmy's been able to hold onto the naïve hope he's had since they were thirteen and has enough of a concussion to believe him. "Yeah, that's right. Just the two of us."
When Jimmy stands, his hands start to shake.
It was supposed to be one job. In and out, just bury the guy, get the cash, and then fuck right off and forget about New York.
"Jonnie?"
It was supposed to just be one fuckin' job.