Page 25 of Thin Lives

Gio shrugged, but he didn’t deny it.

“That’s a dirty way to play,” Calisto said when his friend stayed quiet.

“We Marcellos do what we have to do when things need to be done,” Gio replied, unfazed.

Well, that much was true.

Calisto also had a healthy dose of respect for all of the Marcello family, not just Gio. They were the dominating family in New York for a reason and had been for several decades. The three major Cosa Nostra families in New York had long since learned to get along, but there was no denying that the Marcellos held more power than the Calabrese and Donati families, and as such, they bent to the demands of the Marcello boss when he wanted something.

Clearly, Dante wanted something.

“I’ll get it arranged,” Calisto said. “Tonight, even. I have some papers for my restaurant at my place to grab, but on the way to the restaurant, I’ll stop by Affonso’s home and sit down with him. It’s the best I can do.”

“It’s appreciated.”

Calisto smacked his hands together. “Enough talk. Are we going to spar a bit or what?”

“Still not sure you should.”

Laughing, Calisto brushed it off. “If anything, you might knock some memories back into me.”

Gio scoffed. “Right. With the way you constantly protect your head, I fucking doubt it.”

Calisto blinked across at his friend, his fingers going numb. Maybe it was like a daze had settled over his senses for a second, too, but he wasn’t all that sure.

But it was there, just on the edges of his memories.

Something …

“Calisto?” he heard Gio asked. “Donati, you okay?”

He clenched his tingling fingers into a tight fist, breathing deep.

Gio’s got a bloody mouth.

Next week, stop protecting your face so much.

The voices flew into Calisto’s mind, but he didn’t get a visual to go along with them. Just the words, the familiar tones of the gym’s manager and Gio. But even without the visual, he had the memory of his emotion and senses washing back the words.

Irritation. Restlessness. Sadness. Jealousy.

It swirled in and around the memory, coloring it heavily with bright strokes, making Calisto feel like it might be important.

The doctor hadn’t said how his memories might come back, but he did say it could be different every time something triggered it. And instead of full memories flooding him all at once, it could be a slow trickle of information that eventually came together like a puzzle.

One little piece at a time.

“Cal?”

Calisto swallowed hard, willing the dryness in his throat away. “When was the last time we sparred here, anyway?”

Gio’s gaze flickered with concern, but he answered. “The summer, I guess.”

“Give me more than the summer, man.”

“Uh … June? Yeah, June. Birthdays and all that month. I had a lot of shit going on.”

Calisto nodded, filing that away. “June, okay.”