He was running.  He didn’t know where.  All he knew was that he was in a dark alley.  But not just any alley: an alley with no end.  Because he kept on running.

Behind him were the bad guys.  He thought they were.  Why the fuck else would he be running like some fucking fool?  He was no coward!  He knew the game better than the best of them.  If he was running the way he was running, there had to be bad guys.

But when he looked back, to see just who those bad guys were, all he saw was his father.  Every one of them had the face of his . . . father?

He stopped running and stared at them.  What the fuck!  “Pop?”

But then they pulled out guns.  All those big-ass Micks of this world pulled out guns and started gunning for him.  “Fucked up again, Teddy,” they started saying all at once.  “You fucked up again!”

When he heard what they were saying, and he saw nothing but anger and disappointment in each and every one of their eyes, he knew he couldn’t wait for mercy.  What kind of mercy his father ever had?  He kept running!

He ran and ran until he was able to turn a corner.  It felt as if he’d gotten away from the Micks, and that gave him some relief.  But then he saw Gloria and Joey.  Glo and Joe?  What were his kid sister and kid brother doing in some fucking alley?

Only they weren’t in the alley.  He realized he wasn’t in one anymore either.  Gloria and Joey were in a car, but the car was careening out of control toward a cliff.  A cliff?  Where did a cliff come from?  But there they were, in the back seat, their hands up to the back window like kids on a road trip.  Only they were screaming for their lives.  They were screaming for him to save them.  They were screaming for him!

He reached for them.  The car was that close.  The cliff was that close!  But the car wouldn’t slow down.  It wouldn’t stop for him to catch it.

And it took them over.  He reached, but he couldn’t reach far enough to save them.  He didn’t have enough reach to save the two siblings he loved more than he loved himself!  And then the Micks were coming again, and gunning for him again.

He had to go.  He had to keep running.  Or he was going over that cliff too.

He kept running.  And turned what seemed like another corner.  But then he saw Nikki.  Nikki Tarver.  The one woman in this world he couldn’t stop thinking about.  And she needed him too!  But she wasn’t in an alley.  She wasn’t on a cliff.  She was in the middle of an ocean.  A fucking ocean!  And she was sinking fast.  She was crying for him to save her.  She was crying and reaching and sinking.  And he knew, like he knew his name, that if he didn’t succeed this time, and save her, he was going down too.

He tried.  With all he had he tried.  He ran on water, splashing it up as high as his waist, trying to get to her.  The Micks were behind him, still gunning for him.  Glo and Joe were still in that car, careening down that cliff, screaming for him.  And he was running on water.  He couldn’t run on water.  How was he running on water?

And that realization did it.  Reality hit him like a ton of bricks and caused him to lose all footing.  And then, and only then, he began to sank.  He was drowning.  The Micks were still coming.  Those screams were still echoing in his ears.  Nikki was still going under.  And he drowned.  He went under, too, and went down, down, down, down, down!

Until he jerked up.

Teddy Sinatra frantically lifted his upper body to a sitting position, as if he was lifting out of water that had aimed to take him out, and he let out a breath of life that only the most desperate could breathe.  His thick chest was pushing in and out to the point of hyperventilation.  His naked, muscular body was drenched in sweat.

He looked around, startled, and discovered that he wasn’t in the middle of some damn ocean, but was in his own bedroom, in his own home, and there were no Micks gunning for him.  There were no careening cars or damsels in distress he had to rescue.  There was nothing.  Just darkness.

Just loneliness.

Just his life.

He looked at the clock on the wall.  Three am.  He laid his head back down on his pillow.

It was then, after he laid back down, did he realize his cell phone was ringing.  The sound of his cell phone was apparently the reason he woke up from that crazy-ass nightmare to begin with.  He grabbed it off the nightstand.

He answered without looking at the Caller ID.  He didn’t care who it was.  Anybody, any news, would be preferable to dreaming that dream again.  “Yeah?”

“We got trouble, Teddy.”  It was his kid brother, and his capo, Joey Sinatra.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Real trouble.  Trouble that could lead to more trouble.”

Teddy rolled his eyes.  That brother of his!  “Just tell me what kind of trouble you’re talking about.”

“The kind where stupid-ass fuckers working for me put Boss Bovenconti’s son in the hospital.”

“Shit!”  Teddy lifted up again.  “What’s his status?”

“How the fuck should I know?  He’s in intensive care though.  He’s in bad shape.  I know that.”

Teddy laid back down and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Who did it?”

“They’re saying Khaki.  They’re putting it all on one person.  But I’m not saying yet.  I’m still investigating.”

“Where are they now?”

“With me.  At Copperfield.  I got their asses right here in front of me.”

Teddy couldn’t believe it.  Another fuck up.  What was wrong with Joey’s crew?  But who was the old man going to blame?  He was going to blame me, Teddy said to himself.  Not Joey.  Not Joey’s men.  Me!  “I’m on my way,” he said to his brother, and ended the call.

He remained where he was, without moving a muscle.  Sometimes he wished he could get away from all of it and just keep running.  But that dream already showed him what he would be running to.

He got out of that bed.