𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

29

with his head aching and his body still sore, the following morning jesse hailed a cab back home to queens.

after paying an abhorrent amount of money and doing his ritual walk up the winding road of gatsby lane, when he reached the house, he saw two cars parked in the driveway: his father's silver ferrari and sal's dark blue camaro. he rubbed his forehead and sighed, thinking hopelessly about what he was going to say when they saw the state he was in. he wasn't wearing any of his own clothes — he had had to borrow giovanni's because of how badly his suit had been ruined. he was even wearing his underwear.

discovering that the front door was unlocked, he wandered in as usual. he paraded through the foyer and past the main living room. murmurs could be heard from inside. as he headed to the kitchen for painkillers and a glass of water, his father's voice filled his ears.

"who is it?"

"it's me."

but just before jesse could disappear around the archway, eddie caught him. "hey kid," he said, emerging from the living room with a small cup of espresso in hand.

jesse turned around and met his father's eyes. "hey," he said weakly.

upon seeing his face, eddie's jaw dropped. "what the..." he marched toward his son and pinched his chin between his fingers. jesse cringed as his father turned his head from side to side, examining him like a lab rat. "what the hell happened to you?!"

at the sound of his alarmed voice, both sal and mike's heads poked around the living room door like something out of a cartoon. both of them were dressed in their suits.

"jesus christ, jesse," sal guffawed, walking over to him. "i'd like to see the other guy!"

eddie cast a sharp look at him before returning back to jesse's face. "tell me what happened."

jesse sighed. "giovanni and i... we got in a fight with some guys—"

"whose clothes are these?" eddie cut him off, reaching his hand out and feeling the material of the army jacket that jesse was wearing.

"it's giovanni's," jesse said. "our suits got ruined in the fight. stains all over, sleeves and shirts ripped. we had to throw the things that couldn't be salvaged in the trash..." he guiltily avoided his father's eyes. "we went back to his place afterwards and... cleaned ourselves up. he let me spend the night— on his sofa."

"did you recognise the guys?" mike said, crossing his arms over his chest. "who was it?"

jesse bit his lip. "jules sylvain and george legrand."

sal rolled his eyes. "ah, fuckin' costellos. i knew it."

in anger, eddie clenched his jaw. "jules and george... they jumped you in an alleyway?" he growled. "where?"

"west harlem," jesse said.

"oh, for god's sake..." eddie sighed and put his hands on his hips. "did they say anything to you?"

"they accused us of killing marc," jesse answered. "they started the fight, not us. giovanni and i were just minding our business."

"well, they're not gettin' away with it, that's for sure," eddie said, pointing a finger in jesse's face. "and what about giovanni? is he hurt?"

jesse shook his head. "no, just a few scratches and a bust lip."

"we'll find them," mike said, taking a short glance at sal.

sal returned the look with a gentle nod. "yeah, yeah... we'll find 'em."

"when you do, you bring them to me," eddie said, feeling over the cut on jesse's cheek with his thumb. "tomorrow night, at the royale."