"But I go by Henry Armstrong."
Instead of a momentary widening of his eyes to show Rick's surprise, he simply frowned, showing no recognition at all by the name.
"And?"
"A-A-A-And I grew up in the south of misspip-"
"Speed it up, I gotta smooth things over with Stephanie since she's obviously in a f*cking mood," Ricky whispered, his eyes flicking upstairs to catch her walking toward her office, every step deliberate, every glance sharp.
"You've got one minute, by the way." Ricky relayed, hearing the panic in the young man's voice over the phone as he struggled to find the words to keep Ricky's attention.
"I-I'm-"
"I'm gonna be the best there ever was!" Henry suddenly shouted, packing everything he wanted to say into a single sentence, as the other end of the line remained deathly silent at his proclamation.
"Oh yeah?" Ricky said, finally showing some interest.
"Yes, Mr. Luciano, I-I'm going to be the best," Henry gulped on the other end of the line, the sound of punching echoing behind him.
"What do you think, Isaiah?" Ricky asked, turning to the kid, who looked around nervously before pointing at himself.
"Me?" Isaiah asked, thinking he was too inexperienced to be making this kind of decision.
"Yeah, you. Should I give him a chance?" Ricky asked, nudging the kid, who thought about it for a second and shrugged.
The entirety of Henry Armstrong's future career unknowingly hung in the balance, resting on one little kid's answer.
"Sure."
"You hear that? I'll get you a fight," Ricky said, hearing the sound of relief echo through the phone.
"R-Really-"
"Yeah, start getting ready."
Click
After that single sentence, Ricky hung up without a second thought, rubbing his chin as he considered Henry's words.
"Best there ever was, huh?"
"Balls on that guy," Ricky chuckled, patting Isaiah on the head as if to signal him to follow, and they slowly walked up the winding stairs.
"Is she mad at me-"
"No way, she's totally mad at me." Ricky chuckled, patting Isaiah on the back to assure him he did nothing wrong.
"You're fine," Ricky said, calming him down, watching his shoulders ease at the words as they slowly appeared in front of the office.
"Stephanie, baby, I got him a fight," Ricky called from the other side of the door, the sounds softening as she slowly opened it.
"With who?" Stephanie squinted, opening the door to see Ricky leaning in the doorway.
"With, uh-"
"You didn't even ask him what division he's fighting in, did you?" Stephanie asked, slowly crossing her arms and squinting even deeper.
"I'm gonna get him a champion fight, right off the bat." Ricky said, following Stephanie into her office as she side-eyed him.
"And?"
"And some f*cking money-"
"Your time, Ricky. I would like for you to give him your time," Stephanie said, sighing and shaking her head slightly as she turned her serious expression toward him.
"He is a very sweet boy and is like a little brother to me." Stephanie continued, her voice softening with genuine concern.
"But more than that, his talent for boxing is outstanding." Stepahnie added, leaning forward slightly to emphasize her point.
"And I would like ten percent," Stephanie concluded, eyes locking on him with quiet determination while she slowly sat in her chair next to her beautiful desk.
SIGH
"Fine, whatever," Ricky said, knowing the money would smooth over any residual anger as she nodded in acknowledgment.
"Now, whose is this?" Stephanie asked, turning her attention toward Isaiah and smiling warmly at him.
"I-I am Isaiah. It's nice to meet you, Madame St. Clair," Isaiah said, nodding his head to her, still in disbelief that he was meeting someone as famous as her after hearing countless tales spun on the streets.
"Kiss ass," Ricky muttered under his breath, earning a sharp slap on the shoulder from Stephanie, as if to stop him from teasing the poor boy.
"Would you like something to eat, dearie? Maybe something to drink?" Stephanie asked, playing the gracious hostess as Isaiah slowly shook his head.
"N-No, I'm fine," Isaiah said, smiling nervously, ducking his head while rubbing his shoulder together while flashing a glare at Ricky who chuckled at it.
"Is he?" Stephanie asked first, thinking it might be one of Ricky's bastards, which made him laugh again.
"No, this is Isaiah Bradley, Elijah Bradley's son." Ricky said, walking over to Isaiah and patting his shoulders.
"Oh, I-I-" Stephanie suddenly found herself at a loss for words, completely letting go of any remaining frustration, realizing just how much Elijah had meant to Ricky.
"And this is where the favor's gonna come in," Ricky revealed, flashing a toothy grin at her, causing her shock to immediately give way to a roll of her eyes.
"Ha~" Stephanie laughed, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms while shaking her head.
"Isaiah, honey, could you give us a second alone?" Stephanie asked sweetly, her eyes locked on the boy who looked up at Ricky for permission.
"Yeah, go downstairs and get some iced tea." Ricky said, licking his lips while completely misinterpreting what she meant.
"But-"
"Just do it." Ricky whispered, rubbing his hands together like some greedy goblin as Isaiah frowned.
"Fine," Isaiah pouted, stomping out of the room.
But the moment the door clicked shut behind him, Ricky finally made his move.
"I missed you~" Ricky murmured, stepping toward her with a lustful gaze.
Stephanie looked up at him as his hands gripped the arms of her chair, turning her toward him as her breath caught when he leaned down, closing the space between them.
"Oh yeah?" Stephanie teased, her hand sliding to his cheek as she pulled him into a deep kiss.
"Yeah~" Ricky murmured with a low chuckle, eyes opening as she slowly released him, her fingertips still grazing his skin.
"How are you?" Stephanie asked softly, her gaze roaming his face as if checking for any trace of trouble.
However, her attention faltered when Ricky caught her hand, guiding her palm toward his lips.
He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss against it, lingering just enough for warmth to settle between them.
"Better now~" Ricky murmured, standing over Stephanie, who let out a soft chuckle at his response.
"Ricky, no-"
"Oh come on~" Ricky continued, watching Stephanie turn away only for him to lower his head.
His lips slowly trailing down her chocolate skin before he lowered his head down and under her skirt.
"Ric-Ah~" Stephanie tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat.
Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, and her head arched upwards instinctively as Ricky's head duked under her dress.
His tongue traced across her ebony skin, and the moment he activated his IP skill 'Wet To The Touch' as her folds immediately flushed, visibly trembling while they ached for his arrival.
For Stephanie, resisting Ricky's advances was slowly becoming impossible.
The combination of his IP skills, their effects, and the way he personally stirred her own feelings made her body betray her usually steadfast mind.
Stephanie's supple body shivered as Ricky slid further beneath her dress, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path down her legs, each kiss sending tremors through her.
"Ricky, w-wai-AH~" Stephanie tried to speak, instinctively glancing toward the door, but her words dissolved into a desperate, breathless moan that escaped before she could stop it.
Feeling her panties gently pushed aside, Ricky's tongue traced over her wet folds, caressing every sensitive curve with deliberate, teasing strokes.
Until Ricky made his move.
"Mmmmmmmmh~" Stephanie moaned, biting her lip as he slid a finger teasingly over her clit while his tongue buried deep inside her.
Stimulating her bean with a subtle counter-clockwise, careful around the hood, all while his tongue went to work.
It was almost as if Ricky's nickname for Stephanie came with the taste of her pussy, his tongue immediately feasting on the five-star meal instead of rushing straight for dessert, savoring everything before him.
"Ah~"
Almost immediately, Ricky's tongue found a spot he hadn't even known existed, and Stephanie's thighs clenched around his head.
But instead of pulling back or changing his stance, he wrapped his biceps around her thighs, holding her steady as his tongue worked relentlessly.
His tongue was aggressive, pressing and massaging the hidden spot like a skilled masseuse, while his fingers were impossibly gentle.
One finger teased her clit with careful, deliberate strokes, making sure not to hurt the sensitive bundle, while the other fingers slowly spread her folds apart, leaving her completely exposed to the relentless flick of his tongue.
"A-Ah~" Stephanie's moan broke free, a shaky sound that slithered past her lips alongside her ragged breaths.
She felt herself tipping back, nearly losing balance, and instinctively clutched at Ricky's head, pulling him closer.
Her eyes rolled back, twitching almost uncontrollably as her fingers dug into his slick black hair, pulling his face harder into that wet spot.
So much so that her hips jerked against his face, grinding against his tongue and fingers until a shaky moan slipped from her lips.
"R-Right there~" Stephanie moaned, her hips trembling as she urged him on, slowly closing her eyes to lose herself completely in the searing, consuming feeling.
Any lingering doubt vanished entirely as her body shuddered uncontrollably, surrendering to the pleasure gnawing at her from deep inside.
Every flick of his tongue, every teasing stroke of his fingers, sent sparks of pleasure shivering through her.
At her words, Ricky pressed his head even deeper into her pussy, his tongue grinding against that spot as a jolt ripped through Stephanie.
Her walls clenched around him, muscles spasming and quivering with his every subtle flick, trapping him inside her as she became utterly lost in this consuming pleasure.
Then, as if rewarded for all his relentless work, Ricky finally tasted Stephanie's sweet, dripping cream, her body trembling and opening itself to the most natural, beautiful release it could muster.
"AH~" Stephanie moaned, pressing a hand over her mouth, but the sound still spilled out, ragged and wet.
Even her tongue seemed to push past her fingers, betraying just how much she couldn't help herself.
But it all crescendoed with a single, subtle flick of Ricky's tongue, that made her budding pleasure explode into a full-blown orgasm that rippled violently through Stephanie's body.
"YES!" Stephanie moaned at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the room as the crippling pleasure crashed through her mind, tearing its way down and spilling out of her body in a hot, shuddering wave of cream.
All while Ricky feasted, savoring the sweet taste of his chocolate dove, her walls spasmed, tightening around his slithering tongue at just the right moment.
The last flickers of pleasure surged through her, rippling violently through every nerve as her body shuddered and trembled under the delicious assault.
"God, you're f*cking delicious," Ricky chuckled under her dress, lips grazing and kissing her slick folds before parting.
But Ricky pulled back just enough to see Stephanie huffing out shuddering breaths, her chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of pleasure.
Yet it was the unsatisfied gleam in his eyes that made Stephanie slowly shake her head, caught between awe and desire.
"Ricky-"
"Just a little bit, c'mon~" Ricky murmured, leaning closer to the heavily breathing Stephanie and capturing her lips once more.
"That boy is still downstairs!" Stephanie hissed, pulling back, her voice barely above a whisper as she remembered Isaiah.
"It's fine~" Ricky chuckled, still on his knees, his smiling face cupped gently between her hands, completely unbothered.
But instead of resuming the kiss, his eyes drifted down to the gentle bump expertly hidden beneath her puffy dress.
Then, as if to catch her off guard, his face pressed against her belly, and Stephanie couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, tickled by the sensation.
"Stop~" Stephanie laughed, still trying to catch her breath from him devouring her just seconds ago.
"What?" Ricky asked, feigning innocence as she lifted his face, completely aware of the mischief in his eyes.
SIGH
Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, Stephanie tried to cling to her composure, but she couldn't help herself.
Her hand brushed over his face, and for the life of her she couldn't understand why that infuriating, stupid grin didn't earn her a scowl.
Instead, it made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't control.
Her usual steadfast, stern approach all but melted beneath that look, as if, in that moment, she were the only person in the world who mattered to him.
"I really missed you," Stephanie whispered, letting go of all pretense and meeting his gaze with a soft, loving smile.
That was one of the things Stephanie had come to love about Ricky, the way his guard slipped when no one else was watching, revealing something disarmingly genuine.
Even now, he softened around her, pressing his face against her swelling belly with that foolish, tender smile, as though the life inside her was already the center of his world.
But what struck her even more was how he looked at her, not as the notorious Madame St. Clair.
But simply as Stephanie.
And in that gaze, she felt seen in a way she never had before, a feeling that pulled her deeper into Ricky's all-too-sleazy hands.
"W-Wait-" Stephanie laughed, watching as Ricky immediately sprang to his feet and started fumbling with his belt.
"R-Ricky!" Stephanie hissed in a whisper, doing everything she could to hold back her laughter as her eyes darted toward the closed door.
"It's fine, he won't hear," Ricky huffed, grinning ear to ear like a man about to dig into his hard-earned dessert.
Stephanie's eyes darted between the door and Ricky's hands as he worked at his belt with reckless confidence.
She bit her lip, trying to suppress her laugh, but the sight of his shameless eagerness had her composure unraveling fast.
"M-Make it fast," Stephanie said, her voice carrying the sharp edge of someone granting a favor.
Though in truth, she was just as starved for him as he was for her.
Pulling off her panties, Ricky loomed over her seated form, guiding her legs up until they rested across his shoulders, framing him on either side.
Stephanie's eyes locked on Ricky's, her usual composure slipping as she watched him press soft kisses along her calves before anchoring them onto his shoulders.
Biting her lip harder, Stephanie braced herself for the mind-numbing sensation she never seemed to get used to as he slowly lined up his cock at her creaming, eager folds.
"GOD-AHHHHH~" Stephanie whimpered, head smashing back against the cushion as Ricky drove his entire waist into her readied pussy, filling her completely.
A shuddering gasp tore from her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs as her body clenched around him.
But instead of moving, Ricky's hungry gaze drank in the sight of Stephanie moaning beneath him, every sound, every shiver pulling him deeper into desire.
Her walls gripped him tightly, and her body slithered and twisted on the seat, adjusting to the sudden spike of pleasure coursing through her.
She slumped down, ass pressed to the very edge of the cushion, hands constantly shifting across the chair as if she couldn't quite decide where to put her hold to combat the strain.
"Ricky?" Stephanie asked, finally lifting her battered gaze to him, realizing he still hadn't moved.
Almost immediately, Stephanie assumed something was wrong, glancing at herself and wondering if her pregnancy had made her less enticing to Ricky of all people.
But although ludicrous to someone like Ricky, the thought did have merit.
With the swarm of women he surrounded himself with, these beauties who seemingly clung to him with an undying devotion, it was getting harder and harder to stand out.
Even Stephanie, with Ricky cock inside her, felt herself falter within the harem of it all.
But all of that melted away with one simple sentence.
"God, you're beautiful." Ricky huffed, smiling down at the stunning ebony woman who was giving him something money could never buy.
"Ha~" Stephanie's sudden anxiety melted away as she turned her blushing face, hiding it behind a cheeky, self-conscious smile.
"You're the worst-" Stephanie started to say, but her words were ripped away, replaced entirely by the swelling, overwhelming pleasure coursing through her.
"AH~"
Her words died, shredded into a ragged moan as his cock sank deep into her, stretching her in that familiar, ruined way only Ricky could.
She slumped into the office chair, leather biting into her thighs, arms clutching the armrests like they could anchor her against the storm building inside her.
But Ricky didn't pull back immediately.
Instead, his shaft, completely slathered with her creaming wetness, stayed buried as he leaned forward.
Her lips parted almost instinctively, tongue reaching out, waiting for him to take the lead and entwine his with hers.
The second their saliva met, Stephanie's withdrawals simmered and melted, drowning her in his addictive taste.
Completely shameless in her pursuit, she licked and swirled, abandoning the armrests to bury her hands in Ricky's smug face, pulling him deeper into this sudden desperate, wet kiss.
Their tongues slowly tangled like desperate, greedy animals, slathering over each other again and again, mirroring the way their bodies slammed together.
CREAK
CREAK
The chair groaned beneath them, though no moans escaped their clenched lips, nor did the slick, wet sounds of their bodies colliding fully surface.
Instead, they melted together, hips grinding, thighs pressing, every inch of their skin slick and sliding over one another.
They were sweating, struggling almost as hands clawed at flesh, nails raking, pulling each other closer, and having this need to just be connected.
They didn't want to pull away.
They just wanted to feel each other, to feel every slick inch of skin pressed together, the fabric of their clothes scratching, and all without the momentary loss that came each time Ricky's hips slammed into hers.
But it wasn't just flesh grinding against flesh, it was passion.
Their mouths remained locked, tangled in a sloppy, greedy embrace, so aggressive and consuming that the f*cking itself became secondary, a violent complement to their reunion.
Stephanie's squeals were muffled by his mouth, swallowed in the wet entanglement of tongues and spit, her body trembling as he continuously filled her with every stroke.
Every slam, every grind, spilled her own heat downwards, coating him in her cream that ran down her thighs and dripped onto the chair.
No words passed between them, no pause, just the filthy, relentless rhythm consuming them entirely.
CREAK
CREAK
The office chair groaned relentlessly, each protest louder than the last as Ricky's hips frantically grinded down into Stephanie's pinned body.
Her muscles trembled with every sway of his hips, her moans strangled and swallowed completely by Ricky's tongue buried deep in her mouth.
The more their crotches rubbed together, the wetter and slicker it became, a bubbling, slurping rhythm blossoming between them, like matchsticks sparking a new, searing flame.
SQUELCH
It rang in their ears the second Ricky swayed his hips down into Stephanie's creaming pussy, a wet, leathery, messy sound that commemorated the filthy reunion of their bodies.
But instead of faltering at the new rhythm of their bodies, it only made them more ravenous.
Almost as if they were hungry, starved to hear that sound of their crotches grinding together once more.
SQUELCH
SQUELCH
Everything felt redundant.
Ragged breaths swallowed by one another, hands frantically clawing and gripping as their bodies urged each other faster, hips snapping, thighs clamping, every movement feeding the desperate, unrelenting rhythm that consumed them.
His cock swayed against her walls, coaxing and massaging them in a deep way entirely foreign to what they were used to.
Having built up a resistance to the relentless piston slamming, this felt entirely different.
A more teasing, intimate press that made every nerve scream and pulse with unfamiliar pleasure, seeping through her body and igniting every fiber.
It was all-encompassing, yet still carried the weight of his usual brutal treatment.
Completely having his way with her, but in a way that left her aching for more rather than breaking her into something new.
Her insides pooled with sudden heat as his cock slowly coaxed forward, every inch dragging delicious friction along her walls.
His tip pressed and slid forward endlessly, teasing toward her womb, brushing and pressing it in a way that made lightning shoot through her body.
Until suddenly, the grinding tension between them began to ripen, thickening the heat that pooled deep inside her and urging the sudden twitch of his swelling balls.
SQUELCH
SQUELCH
SQUELCH
Faster and faster, their movements became more urgent, and even more ravenous.
Until the room filled with the thick, wet sounds only their bodies could produce.
The glass fogged around them as they pressed closer, almost desperate for each other, lost in the heaping pleasure building between them.
As if unable to help themselves any longer, with one final, single thrust, Ricky plowed it all down onto Stephanie's creamed embrace while she yanked him toward her, wrapping everything she was around him as their bodies shuddered together.
BAM
Leaning too far into Stephanie, the brutalized office chair tipped over, sending them crashing toward the floor.
But neither cared; the second their bodies slammed against the ground, they both reached their absolute limit, melting together into a mess of each other.
MUFFLED SCREAMS
Stephanie convulsed under him as his cock rode the momentum down, grinding into her slick, creaming folds as their crotches mashed together.
Her cunt clenched and squeezed while her folds drenched the base of his cock, creaming him with her milky release, signaling the pleasure convulsing through her.
Ricky's balls squeezed, spurting his load, scorching her nerves with its milky heat as her mind drowned in the sensation.
Stephanie shuddered with every twitch of his cock, her cunt clamping and squeezing around him, greedily milking his thick, hot shaft with each sloppy pulse.
Her cream mixed with his cum, forming a thick, blinding white that slicked over them both, dripping and pooling across their bodies as they writhed together.
Then, and only then, their lips finally parted, breaking the desperate, greedy kiss.
Their breaths mingled within one another, hovering just above the point where their lips would slam back together again.
"I missed you too~," Stephanie whispered, brushing her cheek against his as Ricky leaned down, resting his forehead lightly on hers.
Yet in that quiet, a slow, nagging ache crept through her, almost like a premonition, that he was hiding something.
"Y-" Stephanie started, then laughed softly, shaking her head.
"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Stephanie asked, noticing the sudden quiet that fell over Ricky when he lingered directly over her body.
"Not for a little while but-"
"But you're leaving." Stephanie frowned, gently pulling his face toward hers as he smiled warmly.
"I'm coming back. You know I always do," Ricky said, his eyes searching hers for anything, anything at all, that might argue otherwise.
But she couldn't.
SIGH
Stephanie all but sighed, wrapping her arms around Ricky's back as he pressed kiss after kiss across her chocolate skin, each one softening her until she could no longer resist accepting the truth.
"If you're not back by next feb-"
"I won't be gone for that long," Ricky interrupted, chuckling as he hovered above her beautiful face once again.
"Promise," Stephanie said, tracing her thumb over his lips, which slowly curved into a sly, teasing smile.
"Promise~" Ricky murmured, lowering his lips to hers once more, lingering until they reluctantly parted.
"Next time, you're taking me out beforehand," Stephanie said, breaking the kiss and wagging her finger at him with a playful expression.
"Uh-huh~" Ricky hummed, pressing a kiss to her hand as she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm serious, Ricky. I'm a wine-and-dine girl," Stephanie said, almost trying to convince him herself as he continued lavishing her with kisses.
"If you want all of this, fine,"
"But I want a classy dinner, with proper service," Stephanie insisted, gripping his cheek firmly so he couldn't wiggle his way out of it.
"I'll rent out the entire restaurant of your choosing, and we'll have it all to ourselves~," Ricky joked, wriggling his eyebrows as if to suggest they'd be eating off each other.
Their lips met in playful pecks afterward, until finally, Ricky slowly withdrew his cock from her creamy, clinging hold.
"Just beautiful~" Ricky hummed, eyes lingering as his cum spilled from her ebony folds, before she hastily pulled her dress back into place, covering the embarrassing sight.
Pulling the chair, and Stephanie, back up, Ricky scooped her into a princess carry, letting her giggle against his chest as he strode out of the room.
"Ricky," Stephanie murmured, half-protesting, half-amused, but completely letting her tired body be swept away.
"Yes, my chocolate dove~" Ricky teased, his grin brushing against her ear as she snaked her arms around his neck, holding on like he might float away if she let go.
"Why did you bring him here?" Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow as Ricky carried her pregnant body toward her room.
"So here's the thing-"
15 minutes later,
"That's a lot to just spring on me, Ricky," Stephanie said, rifling through her clothes while he leaned casually against the doorway behind her.
Having carried her all the way to her closet, Ricky knew exactly how particular she was about keeping appearances and after what had just happened, she needed to change.
"I know but-"
"And what about the family?" Stephanie cut in, turning slightly to side-eye him as his arms remained crossed.
"Are you planning to add Isaiah as a runner under Bumpy?" Stephanie asked, her eyes narrowing as she watched Ricky's serious expression slowly blossom into a small, knowing smile.
"How did-"
"Baby, I'm Madame St. Clair, nothing happens in Harlem without me knowing first." Stepahnie clarified, as if she didn't need any explanation for what was completely obvious.
"Fair enough," Ricky shrugged, watching Stephanie turn back to her clothes.
"It would've been nice if you asked me first." Stephanie muttered, pausing her hands mid-sift through her clothes before resuming her search.
"Bumpy ain't your dog anymore, Stephanie, you released him into the wild." Ricky replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips while he shamelessly stared at her ass.
"I mean, the guy was like your second fiddle in Harlem and-"
"I get it, please stop," Stephanie interrupted sharply, a hint of sass in her voice since even though she didn't love Bumpy, she still cared for him as a friend.
"Alright, alright~" Ricky murmured, easing up behind her and wrapping his hands around her waist, letting them rest over her stomach.
"But I really need this." Ricky added, pressing his head gently to her shoulder as she continued rifling through her dresses.
"Because I'm the only black woman you know?"
"Because you're the only black woman I trust."
"Mmh-hm." Stephanie hummed, side-eyeing him as she pulled out a blue dress, only to set it back after deciding it wasn't the right occasion.
"Stephanie," Ricky said, turning his green eyes toward her, and her gaze softened at the dumb, endearing smile spreading across his face.
"Please."
SIGH
Ricky smiled widely, watching as Stephanie subtly gave in, her attention drifting back to the dresses.
"That's my girl-"
"I want an executive position within Lucky Legacy Bank." Stephanie said suddenly, more as a wish than a demand.
"I-"
"It doesn't have to be big, but I'd like my voice to at least be heard." Stephanie quickly added, turning back to Ricky, who was visibly frowning.
"Listen, I'd love too, you know I would, but that's Lucky's thing." Ricky began, wanting to give her anything else except that one thing.
Although Ricky was the head of the family and could literally force Lucky to do whatever he wanted, it wasn't about that.
The bank was Lucky's domain, his baby.
Lucky had poured his attention, his energy, his focus into running it, and Ricky genuinely respected that.
Ricky wasn't going to barge in and throw his weight around; this wasn't about asserting power.
It was about respect.
"I'm sorry but I won't undermine my pops by giving you-"
"I'm not asking you to do it for me. I'm asking you to get me a meeting with him, like you did before." Stephanie said, gripping his face as he tried to look away, letting out a soft sigh.
"I understand how hands-off you are with the bank, and how it's become Lucky's priority," Stephanie added, fully aware of how crazy it was for a woman of color to seek a role in a banking institution of all places.
"But I am capable-"
"I know you are-"
"Then please, just get me a meeting." Stephanie urged, her eyes full of a deep desire to prove herself not just to him, but to herself.
"I'm not used to this, being on the sidelines." Stephanie admitted honestly, expecting to enjoy the free time, but instead it felt almost suffocating.
"But wasn't this what you wanted?" Ricky asked, his gaze steady on Stephanie as she sighed, rubbing her shoulders in quiet frustration.
"You told me that you wanted-"
"I know, but is it bad for a girl to want a little more?" Stephanie asked, smiling up at Ricky, who mirrored her expression with a soft grin.
"And they say I'm greedy~," Ricky added cheekily, watching as Stephanie rolled her eyes before slowly looping her hands around his neck.
"All right, I'll get you a sit-down, but it's up to you." Ricky said, swaying slightly with her as she smiled.
"Thank you." Stephanie murmured, closing her eyes as she waited for him to lean down and press his lips to hers.
When they finally pulled away, they just stared at each other with dumb, fond smiles, as if it felt strange to harbor so much love for one another.
"Good. Now, go meet Henry," Stephanie said, patting his chest before stepping away to slip into a purple dress.
"I'm serious, baby, I won't forget about our dinner." Ricky said, stepping back and playfully pointing at her.
"Uh-huh," Stephanie replied, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"I'll go tell Isaiah the good news!" Ricky called from around the corner, leaving the room as Stephanie chuckled softly, rubbing her belly.
"Say you won't forget our dinner, and yet you forget to ask me where Henry is," Stephanie muttered to herself, shaking her head.
Walking through the Harlem mansion, Ricky eventually found Isaiah in the spotless kitchen, sipping another glass of iced tea poured by one of Stephanie's maids.
"Hey, Reta," Ricky greeted, nodding toward Stephanie's assistant and live-in maid as the older woman turned to him while raising an eyebrow at his unzipped pants.
"Ha!" Ricky laughed, already warming to the old woman a little more as he quickly zipped them up and glanced toward Isaiah.
"Alright buddy, do you need to get anything-"
"No," Isaiah said quietly, turning his gaze to the side as Ricky watched him, noting how the child's expression had shifted, now tinged with sadness.
"Hey," Ricky said, plopping down on the seat next to him as Isaiah continued to stare down at the floor.
"Don't look at the floor, look at me."
At the urging of his words, the still-distraught Isaiah slowly lifted his gaze, meeting an expression he had never seen on Ricky before, almost gentle.
"It's gonna hurt, for a long time." Ricky said suddenly, patting Isaiah's cheek lightly and gently lifting his head when it instinctively ducked down.
"When you lose someone like that, someone who really f*cking matters, the pain doesn't go away. It just lingers, Ricky said softly, his eyes locked on Isaiah's, understanding the exact situation he was in right now.
"You tell yourself it's fine, but that hole only gets deeper, until you finally accept that they're gone," Ricky said, his voice carrying the weight of hard-earned truth gained only by experience.
Sniff
"But listen, you'll never lose me," Ricky said, taking on the steady, protective tone of a big brother rather than a father as he wouldn't disrespect Elijah like that.
"In fact, I don't even think I can really die," Ricky muttered almost to himself, watching Isaiah's sniffing expression slowly lift toward him.
"Really?"
"Yeah man, I'm like, immortal or something close to it." Ricky shrugged, watching the child cling to the one constant in his life, Ricky himself.
But for some reason, it gave him this sort of quiet comfort, an almost steady feeling in his chest, knowing that Isaiah would never have to endure the same loss he had with his father.
Ricky watched the boy lift his eyes to him, a tentative but genuine trust shining in them, and felt the full weight of responsibility settle within him.
This wasn't just about being present; it was about being the unshakable anchor Isaiah could cling to, the one constant in a world that had so often been unstable.
"But you gotta promise me one thing," Ricky said suddenly, holding up a single finger as Isaiah's eyes followed it.
"That no matter what, even if the entire world tells you no." Ricky deliberately drew the sentence out, letting the words hang for a moment, his serious expression catching the child off guard.
"Promise me you'll do whatever the f*ck you want." Ricky finished, a smile tugging at his lips as the seriousness of his tone melted away.
Isaiah scoffed, turning away, but the smile that lingered on his face gave him away.
"C'mon, you gotta promise," Ricky teased, nudging Isaiah until the boy eventually laughed and nodded.
"I promise."
"Good. And remember, if you need anything-" Ricky let the sentence hang once again, playfully nudging Isaiah until he finished.
"I'll come to you."
"Atta boy!" Ricky said, patting Isaiah's back before standing up.
"And here's a little something, so take that girl you've got the hots for to someplace nice." Ricky added suddenly, tossing a wad of money onto the counter while Isaiah's cheeks flushed bright red as he stared at it.
"I-I don't even like her-"
"Do too!" Ricky said, his childish energy matching Isaiah's, who blushed furiously as he watched him open a portal.
"DO NOT-"
"DO TOO!" Ricky shouted, getting the last word in before running into the portal and closing it behind him, keeping Isaiah from charging after him.
"Ha!" Ricky laughed, pointing to thin air as a sudden realization hit him.
"Oh sh*t, where even is that Henry dude?" Ricky muttered, frowning as he looked around at the people whispering and pointing in his direction.
"F*ck this, I need something to drink."
1 hour later,
"And then I just punched him in the face!" Ricky laughed, pumping his fist into the air for emphasis as the two older black men next to him hollered at his story.
After a couple of years, Ricky had accidentally reunited with Cotton Club regulars Otis and Rufus, who were sitting at the bar in their usual spots, hollering their heads off at his crazy ass story.
Ricky knew it wouldn't be hard to get the information he wanted, and decided to take the edge off with a cocktail he couldn't get anywhere else.
"Aye, thanks, Buck," Ricky said quickly, grabbing one of the three cocktails he sometimes dreamed about and downing it instantly.
"Wait, wait, what about that judge, the one with the stick in his ass." Otis suddenly asked, regaining his composure, and Ricky immediately burst out laughing.
"Which one?!" Ricky exclaimed, watching Rufus start barking out so much that he practically fell out of his seat.
"Oh man, Slick, it's really good to see you again." Otis laughed, patting Ricky on the back as Buck placed the cocktails in front of them.
"I swear to the Lord above, Slick, sometimes your life just feels like one big clusterf*ck of a story mashed together." Rufus wheezed, crawling back onto his seat as Ricky laughed even harder.
"I know, I'm living the dream," Ricky said, tipping his glass toward Rufus while watching Otis finally nudge his shoulder with a grin.
"So what's up, you need something?" Otis asked, leaning forward slightly since someone of Ricky's status wouldn't just come here without warning something first.
"Yeah, what does the famous Ricky Luciano want with a couple of has-been's like us?" Rufus added, watching Ricky shrug casually.
"Okay so-"
5 minutes later,
"You looking for that Armstrong boy?" Otis raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Rufus, who looked just as surprised.
"What's with the faces?" Ricky asked, watching them wriggle uncomfortably in their seats.
"He ain't in trouble or something-"
"Oh, nah, nah~" Ricky laughed, easing their tension as both let out relieved sighs.
"Scared us for a second there," Rufus said, patting his chest while signaling Buck for another refill.
"I made a promise to my girl to look after him, but I wanna know if he's the real dea-"
"Oh, he's the real deal, alright," Otis laughed, watching Buck place another set of cocktails in front of them.
"That kid's lethal." Otis added, hearing Rufus hum in agreement beside him, while Ricky glanced over at Buck with a raised eyebrow.
"What about you Buck, is he the real deal?" Ricky said, looking over at Buck rubbing a glass before nodding along with his regulars.
"Damn, what's his record?"
"Well, now I know why the guy's only been fighting amateur fights until now." Rufus muttered, shaking his head since Armstrong, at least to him, could easily go pro right here and now.
"What he's trying to say is that the kid's 15-0," Otis clarified, hitting Rufus' shoulder with a frown.
"The kid's on a streak, to the point where he hasn't had a fight in the past month because no one wants to even step into the ring with him," Rufus revealed, growing impatient as he waited to see him fight again.
"Do you guys know where I can find him?" Ricky asked, leaning on the table. Otis glanced over at Rufus, who just shrugged.
"You won't believe this, but he's at Fogwell's," Otis said, watching Ricky actually flinch at how surprising it was.
"You're f*cking kidding, right?" Ricky laughed, rubbing his face as he looked toward Buck, who simply nodded.
To understand Ricky's reaction, one had to understand the most notorious gym in New York: Fogwell's.
But the boxing gym, located on the Lower West Side of Manhattan, was strictly Irish.
In fact, future boxing greats were currently training there, including Billy Conn, James J. Braddock, Jimmy McLarnin, and Jack Sharkey.
However, the gym had a notorious reputation for rejecting anyone who wasn't Irish.
The only notable exception was Jack Sharkey, who had to adopt an Irish name just to be accepted and the reason Ricky reacted the way he did.
"Old man Fogwell adores the kid," Rufus explained, shaking his head in disbelief since he'd seen in the past how he treated people who weren't Irish.
"The kid's literally so talented that after just one fight, Fogwell pulled him aside and offered personal coaching," Rufus finished, downing the rest of his cocktail before patting his chest to signal Buck for another.
"Sh*t," Ricky muttered, still surprised at the praise he was hearing about a guy he'd put off until now.
"Well, thanks, guys," Ricky said, sliding three hundred dollars onto the counter.
"S-Slick-"
"This is for their drinks, keep the rest as a tip," Ricky said, sliding one of the bills toward Buck, who sighed at the excessive generosity.
"And for you two, go buy yourselves something nice," Ricky added, patting the men on the shoulders while leaving the two hundred dollars on the counter.
"Don't you owe me a twenty-"
"Oh, shut up, Rufus," Otis scoffed, swiping one of the bills and slipping it into his shirt pocket.
The money-grubbing Rufus muttered something under his breath as he grabbed the other bill.
Meanwhile at Fogwell's gym,
BAM
BAM
"KEEP YA HANDS UP, RINTY!" Fogwell roared from the side of the ring, and Rinty immediately raised his hands.
BAM
However, the second he raised his hands, it felt as if a bullet had lodged into his abdomen, sending a sharp, unnatural exhale rattling from his lungs.
His breath came in shaky bursts, each inhale and exhale a struggle against the burning tension in his chest.
Rint's gaze blurred, barely able to track the speed of the incoming strike, the world seeming to collapse into a slow-motion haze as the boxing glove rocketed toward his face.
Instinctively, he closed his eyes, bracing for the impact that never came.
Time stretched, the seconds hanging heavy, until he slowly cracked his eyes open.
There it was, that glove, suspended in midair, mere inches from his already bruised face.
"Good control, Henry! Great f*cking control!" Fogwell applauded from the side, clearly admiring the kid's instinct to know when to stop since after all, it was just a spar.
"Dammit~," Rinty muttered, watching Henry slowly back away, a confident smile spreading across his face.
"Don't do that, you did great-"
"Oh, come on! I was a f*cking sitting duck," Rinty scoffed, throwing his hands into the air in frustration as Henry just shook his head, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips.
"No, no, it's jus' that ya always get anchored in place when ya get all overwhelmed," Henry tried to explain in a southern drawl, pointing to Rinty's flat feet as if to drive home this fact.
"Henry's right, Rinty, you gotta keep moving, the second you become flat-footed it's over." Forgweel clapped, completely agreeing with Henry, who beat him by a literal second since he was about to say the same thing.
"He's right, you did-"
Clap
Clap
Clap
Claps began to echo through the gym, drowning out not only Henry's words but everyone else's, as eyes slowly turned toward the sudden disruption.
"Wow, the guys weren't joking, you do got something there." Ricky chuckled, staring straight at Henry, who froze in place.
However, it wasn't just Henry who froze, since it had become a long-standing Irish tradition in these parts to despise Ricky as a collective.
"Slick." Fogwell immediately put himself between the noxious mob boss and his fighters, as some of the other Irish fighters stopped what they were doing and turned toward him.
"We've been paying the-"
"It ain't about the collections." Ricky waved Fogwell's words away, rubbing his face to hide the mocking smile at all these fighters trying to intimidate him.
"I'm here for him." Ricky flicked his head toward Henry, who immediately had Rinty step in front of him.
"Henry's a good kid, whatever you heard-"
"I-It's alright, Mr. Fogwell," Henry said from behind Fogwell, the old man turning to the only Black man to ever set foot in this gym.
"Wait, don't tell me this was the reason you haven't fought professionally?" Fogwell laughed, pointing at Ricky, who laughed at the words.
"So you're the reason Henry hasn't fought yet!" Rinty yelled at Ricky, shoving his glove toward him as Henry pulled him back.
"It's not a big dea-"
"No, it is!" Rinty yelled, pushing Henry away as he turned back to Ricky, who had his hands in his pockets.
"A boxer's prime is limited and you've been wasting a talent like this-"'
"ENOUGH!" Fogwell suddenly yelled, knowing it would be bad for the situation to spiral the wrong way as he whipped his head back to Rinty, gesturing angrily toward him.
"Everyone out." Fogwell said, rubbing his face at the situation unfolding before him.
"But-" One of the fighters at the side tried to speak, clearly nervous about leaving Fogwell alone with Ricky, but the old man was too stubborn to listen.
"NOW!"
Slowly, one by one, the fighters shuffled toward the door, their eyes flicking nervously between Fogwell and Ricky.
Rinty lingered the longest, tension coiling in his shoulders, before finally stepping aside.
The echo of footsteps faded, leaving only three men in the gym: Fogwell, Ricky, and Henry.
"It's nice to know I'm still loved within the irish community-"
"Cut the sh*t, Slick." Fogwell said, waving away all the pleasantries as he looked at the one person more loathed in the Irish-American community than the British were.
Which was saying something for an Irishman.
"What do you want with the kid?" Fogwell asked, sitting down on a chair as his weathered body took a load off.
"To make good on my promise and get this kid a fight," Ricky said, nodding toward Henry, who stood with anticipation, eyes fixed on the one man who could get him to the top.
"With all due respect-"
"Listen, I get you're a coach, I do." Ricky suddenly interrupted Fogwell, holding up his hand, golden ring glinting, as the old man shut his mouth.
"But Henry Armstrong has always been under my representation, and I don't appreciate you throwing your weight around as if it actually means something to me." Ricky said, raising his gaze to Fogwell as it glimmered in a faint pulse of green.
"So, get out, and let me talk to the fighter I'm promoting," Ricky said, smiling and gesturing to the side.
"And don't worry, it really doesn't matter who his coach is, as long as that person realizes the power dynamics." Ricky waved his hands at whatever retort Fogwell was about to make, completely silencing him with a couple of gestures.
"Cause in my mind, this is where the coach should be in his life," Ricky said, holding his hand out to Fogwell so he could see it clearly.
"But this is where I am," Ricky added, raising his hand above the first and then even higher, forcing Fogwell to look up.
"Capesh?"
"Capesh." Fogwell frowned but nodded, knowing it would be foolish to argue with the most powerful man in New York.
"Good, now lemme talk to Henry over there, coach," Ricky chuckled, staring at his seated form as Fogwell side-eyed Henry.
Although he was violently against it, Fogwell slowly lifted his weathered bones from the seat, each movement creaking with effort.
His eyes never left Henry as he begrudgingly made his way to the side as if his every step was a silent protest against the situation.
Until there were only two.
"Good to finally meet you," Ricky said, nodding toward Henry as he stood frozen in place within the ring.
"Y-You too," Henry stuttered, feeling only comfortable because he had his gloves on and was surrounded by the things that gave him a sense of control.
"T-Thank you, f-for the opportunity-"
"Save the spiel for Stephanie, she'll eat that up," Ricky said, waving his hand at Henry to stop as he scanned the gym.
"I'll be straight with you, I'm not entirely interested in the whole boxing thing." Ricky gestured, slowly walking around the equipment, occasionally returning his gaze to Henry.
"I mean, I would've been a couple years ago, but with everything I'm doing, it's all sort of bland to me, I guess." Ricky said, tapping one of the bags softly as it swung back against the wall.
"And I know how much you've waited but-"
"But I'm gonna be the best," Henry said, thumping his chest at Ricky, who raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, you keep saying that," Ricky chuckled, watching Henry rub the back of his head in embarrassment.
However, the more Henry looked at him, the more desperation sparked in his eyes, which only seemed to confuse Ricky.
"But be honest with me Henry, why did you wait?" Ricky just had to ask, spreading out his arms towards Henry since from what he heard, he could've gone pro earlier.
"I mean, judging by that leprechaun's anger, you got some real talent," Ricky joked, watching Henry hold back a laugh by ducking his head.
"And putting aside the whole Madame St. Clair thing, just tell me straight up why you waited for so long."
"I-"
"I wanna be the best," Henry repeated once again, but this time it was different.
"I-I gotta be the best," Henry said, the emotion coursing through his eyes amplified by the rapid pulse of his breathing, spiking at the mere thought of not being great.
"The money, the fame, hell, that don't mean nothin' to me," Henry said, waving his glove to the side as he paced around the ring, while Ricky circled him like a shark in the water.
"All I care 'bout is winnin'," Henry said in his southern drawl, returning his eyes to Ricky and meeting them head-on without a trace of fear.
"I need to beat the toughest men standin' and show every last one of 'em that I'm more than what they ever pegged me for." Henry vowed, thumping his chest with a resilience that wasn't always born with talent.
But when it was, it rang out like the familiar toll of bells he'd grown up hearing in the streets, a call to prove himself.
To prove himself to Ricky.
"And then I lay eyes on somebody like you. Henry added, his gaze locking with Ricky's, a mix of excitement sparking in his eyes.
"I see what it really means to be at the top, and I wanna climb," Henry said, his passion turning his words into a whisper as he urged himself forward.
"Not for glory, not for cheers, but 'cause I can't stand sittin' at the bottom knowin' there's more in me," Henry insisted, feeling almost naked when he wasn't punching something with his fist.
"I'm gonna be somebody that everyone wishes they were, just like you," Henry promised, earning a bloodthirsty smile from Ricky.
"But I need some help gettin' there, and I'd like you to be the one to show me how," Henry said, his eyes fixed on a man who could make the city waver with the flick of his hand.
"I ain't askin' for an easy ride, just point me in the right direction, and I'll bleed every step of the way 'til I earn it," Henry finished, ducking his head slightly as his nerves flared whenever he made eye contact with Ricky.
"Bleed every step of the way, huh?" Ricky muttered to himself, thinking long and hard about what Henry had just said before nodding.
"Alright, how about I give you a contender fight as your debut?" Ricky said, his smile widening as an idea suddenly struck him.
"R-Really-"
"But."
However, before Henry could become ecstatic, Ricky slowly stepped into the ring, each movement deliberate, his presence somehow filling the space that always seemed to belong to the boxer.
"I'll only agree to help ya if you can touch my palm right here, right now," Ricky said, gesturing toward his outstretched hand with the other, as Henry raised an eyebrow.
"All I gotta do is just touch it, right?" Henry asked, glancing around for a catch that didn't seem to appear, as Ricky's smile widened.
"Sure, I won't even lift a finger against you."
"What's the catch-"
GASP
Then, suddenly, a rushing green torrent burst from Ricky, his entire sovereign will flooding the boxing gym like a living force.
BAM
Henry's knees slammed into the mat like lead, his gloves the only barrier between him and a face‑plant.
The air seemed to thicken, each breath a struggle as an unnatural presence pressed down not only on his body, but his psyche as well.
He could feel every ounce of Ricky's will vibrating through the floor, rattling the ring ropes, and echoing off the walls.
But most of all, he could feel the fear of something he could never hope to defeat staring him down.
"Attaching my name to someone I don't even know is risky," Ricky said, a sly grin stretching ear to ear, his gaze fixed on Henry.
"And sure, Stephanie vouches for you, but that ain't nearly enough."
Henry slowly lifted his head, horror and determination warring in his eyes as they met Ricky's.
The moment their gazes locked, a crushing wave of presence slammed into him, as if Ricky's very will aimed to drive his face into the floor.
Every fiber of his being screamed to give up, yet every ounce of his resolve blazed hotter, forcing him to fight against the pull and keep himself from collapsing onto the ring.
"I wanna see it for myself, whether you're all that or just for show."
Ricky wasn't even exerting his full strength but just enough to make Henry's will feel almost irrelevant, like a candle flickering against a storm.
It wasn't a fight of bodies, that was evidently far too easy for Henry.
What Ricky wanted to see was the strength of his mind.
He wanted to see what would happen when Henry's resolve was crushed under the weight of a cruelty he had never experienced firsthand, and to watch how he would struggle against it.
Henry's arms began to shake vigorously, his muscles spasming until his face finally slammed against the canvas of the ring, the sting of contact only amplifying the helplessness coursing through him.
Yet, despite the agony, Henry's gloved hand slowly reached toward Ricky.
Inch by agonizing inch, he dragged himself forward, refusing to let his face stay down.
Every breath burned, every muscle screamed, but he kept moving, he kept forcing himself forward.
Nobody, no fighter in this world, wanted it more than the twenty-four-year-old crawling across the ring toward Ricky.
Appearance, pride, even dignity, didn't matter.
Every drop of sweat, every strain in his body, every ounce of humiliation meant nothing compared to the looming failure of not touching that outstretched palm.
Henry Armstrong didn't care how pathetic he looked.
All that mattered was victory.
He wanted to be the best and fight only the best, to prove that no one in this entire sport could ever measure up to him.
However, even that was enough.
What pressed down on Henry was something his strength alone couldn't conquer and that's when Ricky saw it.
That's when he saw Henry's desperation.
It wasn't strength that drove him forward anymore; it was the fear of failure, this desperation that pushed him inch by inch when his body had nothing left to give.
At first, it was his gloves, then his toes.
When that seemed impossible, he used his teeth, dragging himself inch by excruciating inch toward the outstretched palm.
Finally, he found the strength to lift his glove toward it.
However, he missed.
BAM
His entire body slammed back onto the ring as Ricky purposely smiled, deliberately forcing the young man to fail to see if he could pull himself back up.
HUFF
HUFF
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Henry roared, pouring every ounce of himself into the moment.
He let his body crash against the canvas while driving his boxing glove back toward Ricky's outstretched palm, defying exhaustion, pain, and every limit he had left.
Until, finally, his glove barely grazed Ricky's middle finger.
HUFF
HUFF
HUFF
With that touch, the suffocating weight of will that had pressed down on him for what felt like years vanished in an instant.
Letting him breathe again, Henry sucked in deep, heavy inhales of breath as if he were drowning only minutes before.
He heaved out breath after breath, clutching his chest as his mind and nerves screamed for release.
Tears threatened to fall from his eyes, but he held them at bay, steeling himself as Ricky nodded in quiet acknowledgement.
"Damn, alright," Ricky said, not expecting Henry to even get close to his hand, and certainly not expecting him to actually touch it.
"Wait, what's your division?" Ricky asked, rubbing the back of his neck, since he didn't know which weight class Henry fought in.
"F-Featherweight," Henry rasped, ragged from exertion, as he rolled over and tried to stand, but failed.
"Then I'll get you a contender fight for the featherweight division," Ricky said, shrugging as if it were nothing, and turned back toward the ropes of the ring.
"You win, I'll personally represent you for all your future fights," Ricky said, gesturing as he lifted the rope to crawl between it.
"And if you lose, well, you already know that I'm just gonna toss you away."
"I'll send someone to tell you when the details are, and you better not be wasting my f*cking time either," Ricky said, wagging a finger at the patting Henry as he climbed out of the ring.
"I'm gonna be betting a bunch of money on ya."
Ricky then turned toward the exit, striding away, while Henry slowly crawled to the edge of the ring, every movement a reminder of the battle he'd just endured.
"When will it be enough!" Henry yelled, screaming at the top of his lungs as he crawled toward the edge of the ring, demanding an answer as Ricky slowly stopped.
"Huh?" Ricky said, laughing as he turned to the breathless Henry, who stared up at him, chest heaving but unable to stop himself from asking the things that plagued his mind.
"I've trained and waited for you to notice me for three years," Henry said, banging his head against the ring floor before lifting it again to stare at the man who seemed more like a legend than reality.
"Throughout that time, Madame told me 'bout you," Henry said, his voice faltering a bit as he tried to put the weight of his words into speech.
"She told me 'bout everythin' you went through and' how you come back, not for what was yours, but for more." Henry said, eyes fixed on Ricky as if trying to understand this very fact about him.
"You have everything a man can only dream of."
"Is there a question in there or?" Ricky laughed, turning to look into Henry's eyes that burned with the hunger for an answer to a question that had always held him back.
"When will it ever be enough?" Henry asked, his voice trembling, almost as if he were trying to give voice to that empty pit of ambition that never seemed to fill, no matter how much he won.
"When will the money, the woman, and the-"
"Never, it'll never be enough," Ricky said, his eyes flaring green as he stared down at Henry, whose own eyes widened in exhausted disbelief.
"Y-You have New York?" Henry laughed, incredulous at the absurdity of it.
"You've gotten the entire tri-state area under your thumb, and the Luciano family is untouchable!" he yelled, his manic eyes gleaming as they locked onto Ricky, who just shrugged casually.
"Me and the Luciano family ain't never been more vulnerable than we are right now," Ricky said lightly, offering what he thought was the simplest answer to Henry's complicated question.
"Mr. Luciano, with all due respect, nobody in New York's ever been as powerful as you are right now," Henry said, heaving as he pushed aside his Southern drawl so Ricky could understand exactly what he was trying to convey.
"And yet, I have no power to spare," Ricky laughed, shrugging as Henry stared, caught in a surreal moment he knew he would never forget.
"What would it take?" Henry couldn't help but ask, watching Ricky chuckle even harder as walked towards the exit.
"What would it take for you to feel secure, safe!" Henry yelled from the ring as he watched Ricky slowly stop at the exit and turn back with a sleazy smile.
"More."
Author's Note: Too tired, respond later to stuff, gg.