A Man of Service A John Wick Fanfic

Chapter 2

T/W – adult situations, implied domestic violence, swearing

Kate Callaghan was on the verge of contentment. She had long left Las Vegas and Anthony Tortorelli behind her. New York had been good to her the last 3 months. Her sultry looks and satiny voice had landed her a new piano player and a round robin of venues that she performed in, her favorite being "Calabria's" a large, warm Italian restaurant and lounge that was always packed to the rafters on weekends when she sang and Gary played piano.

She was off on Monday and Tuesday but spent the time practicing with Gary, whom she felt like she needed to mother because he appeared to be such a lonely, lost soul all the while playing the piano like Van Cliburn. He could turn "Chopsticks" into an orchestrated masterpiece worthy of the New York Philharmonic. Gary stood 6'3" and probably weighed in after falling into a pool with his clothes on at 140 but his long, steady fingers flew across the keyboard with ease. He didn't seem to have much interest in food or other women; he struggled with his disinterest in food, but he was devoted and totally in love with Kate.

Kate was well aware of his feelings and tread lightly, repeating her reasons for not dating him including they should keep a professional relationship and she had just come off a disastrous affair with Anthony Tortorelli of Las Vegas, Nevada, who swore he'd kill her if she ever left him. In the beginning, she saw Anthony everywhere and had become an expert in ducking into shops, around corners and into foyers. But somehow she felt safe in the madness of Manhattan, teemed with humanity on every street, every corner, at any hour.

"That guy is here again," Gary whispered to her as they took a break and stepped outside Calabria's for some fresh, cool October air. He saw Kate shiver slightly and removed his suit coat to drape around her shoulders.

"Now you'll be cold....," Kate said to him gently.

He shook his head and smiled, inhaling deeply on his cigarette. "That weird guy is in the lounge again, Kate."

"Oh, he's harmless," she reassured him, but was internally beginning to wonder who he was. He seemed to appear every where they were performing, his eyes laser pointed on Kate. She thought maybe she had her first stalker and wondered if she should contact the police.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Gary warned her. "I'm a Brooklyn brat. I know trouble when I see it. He's not what he seems."

Kate looked at Gary tenderly and repeated that he shouldn't worry. He informed her he was going to escort her home, no refusals accepted. She smiled at him and nodded, knowing him well enough to tell when there was no use arguing. They hooked arm in arm and went back to work.

By the time they arrived at Kate's apartment, it was already 2:30 a.m. Gary opened the door with her keys and stepped inside to flip on the front light; Kate followed him and closed the door, offering him a cup of tea before he left. Gary gladly agreed and sat at her kitchen table.

Within seconds there was a knock on the door.

"Who the hell can that be?" Kate groused as she put the kettle on the stove. A moment of fear came across her until she remembered that Anthony would have broken down the door instead of knocking on it.

Gary accompanied her as she leaned into the door and asked, "Who is it?"

"Uh, my name is James. I was at Calabria's. I'd like to talk to you about a career opportunity."

"Not at 3 in the morning you're not," Kate shot back. "Leave your card under the door and don't call us, we'll call you."

"I'm not a serial killer," he answered her with an easy tone. "Just talk to me a minute."

"I watch 'Forensic Files'. All serial killers say that. That or they are there to repair the plumbing."

"You're paranoid," he laughed.

"You're nuts for knocking on someone's door at 3 in the morning."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. It's the fucking shank of the day for band performers," he told her lightly. "This is dinner time for our types."

"What 'type' is that?" Gary chimed in.

"Singers, actors, creatives," he answered. "Tell me, when's the last time you went to bed before the sun was coming up?"

"None of your fucking business," Gary growled.

"Look, take a pill, both of you. I'm James Richter. James Richter Band. Ever heard of us?"

"We're Donny and Marie. Ever heard of us?" Gary said back.

It was here that Kate began to laugh. "I hear a 'Who's on First?' bit coming any minute now."

"Open the door, Kate. You can tie my hands behind my back if you want. I just need to talk to you."

Kate looked at Gary, who was shaking his head vigorously. "Brooklyn brat....I'm telling you."

"It's okay, Gary. If he kills us, I'll take total responsibility," Kate smiled. "Can you make tea while I talk to this moron?"

He grumbled as he walked back into the kitchen and peered around the corner with a bright, malicious grin and a butcher knife in his hand. Kate rolled her eyes and opened the door.

"What the hell do YOU want?" she greeted him.

"You," he answered assuredly.