Where Nerves End

painful?” he asked.
“Aches.”
“Give it a minute. Tell me if it gets worse.”
It didnt get worse. It didnt go away completely, but it wasnt bad. A little annoying if anything. After the night Id had, a little annoying wasnt the end of the world.
He gathered up the wrappers and dropped them into the wastebasket next to the couch before returning to the ottoman. “Mind if I ask about something? Just…out of curiosity?
I rested my chin on my folded arms. “Go ahead.”
“Why are you running the club on your own?” he asked. “You said you had a business partner, but dont any longer. What happened there?”
I took a breath, closing my eyes as renewed tension tried to counter everything Michael had done to my neck and shoulder. “Rico pretty much handled the financial side while I dealt with the marketing, running the actual club, things like that. We both knew we were in trouble, but wed been working on finding ways to get ourselves back in the black. Then it looked like we were doing okay. Money was coming in, overhead was under control.”
“What happened?”
“He didnt show up at the club one night.” I swallowed the lump that tried to rise in my throat. “I found him in his garage. You know, I always thought that was just something Hollywood made up, but no, there he was. Slumped over the wheel of his car with the engine still running.”
“My God,” Michael said. “Im sorry to hear it.”
I sighed. “Rico fucking loved that car. He always joked about being buried in it. I guess when he realized he was going to lose it and everything else, he decided it was a fitting place for him to die.”
“Jesus…”
I took a breath. “I found out after the fact that hed been taking out all kinds of loans. Used his house as collateral, his car, anything he could get his hands on, and pouring that money into the club. From what it sounded like, he realized hed dug himself into too deep of a hole to dig himself out.”
Michael was quiet for a moment. “I guess that answers my other question, then.”
“What other question?”
He hesitation. “With as much as the club takes out of you, between stressing you out and draining your finances—”
“Why havent I closed it?”
“Yeah. Im…guessing I know why now?”
“Yes and no.” I sighed. “Its partly pride. That, and we both put a lot of work into getting that place off the ground. Im too stubborn to give up on it until theres absolutely no hope.” I paused. “And, yeah, Ricos part of it too.”
Michaels warm fingertips met my skin, probably adjusting one of the needles. A faint ache radiated from where he made contact, so that must have been it. When he lifted his hand away, he spoke again.
“Its probably not my place to suggest anything one way or the other,” he said, his tone gentle and smooth, “but I think hed understand if you did. If you closed the club, I mean. I cant imagine hed want you to struggle so hard to keep it going that your quality of life went out the window.”
“No, I suppose he wouldnt.” I sighed. “Maybe if things get worse, Ill consider it.” I turned my head enough to look at him. “But hey, maybe the cash flow will get better these days.”
He smiled. “Believe me, my business and I are banking on that too.” He stood slowly. “Im going to leave these in for a little while. Just try to relax, all right?”
“Will do.”
He left the room, and I closed my eyes. I didnt think Id be able to relax, not when Id been in that much pain— hey, it doesn’t hurt as much now —or thinking about Ricos death. But the longer I lay there, the more the pain dissipated, fading from glowing red to dull gray. Still there, still not entirely pleasant, but no longer something that made inflicting more pain sound like a rational solution.
Some time passed. A few minutes? Ten? Twenty. Fuck if I knew.
Movement beside me dragged me out of a half-asleep state I didnt even realize Id slipped into.
“How do you feel?” Michael asked.
“Better,” I murmured.
“Good.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, and the warmth of his skin against mine drew a contented sigh out of me. “Theyre probably ready to come out, then.” He removed a needle, then dabbed the spot gently with a cloth.
“Bleeding?” I asked.
“A little.” He dabbed it again before setting the cloth aside. “Happens occasionally.”
Apparently that was the only one. He removed the rest without incident, and then held my arm gently, steadying me—and unsteadying