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“I never asked you to do this. I point to the money now scattered across the kitchen floor. “I’d eat noodles for the rest of my life if I knew you were safe.” I can’t fight back the tears anymore that have been threatening to spill since he walked through the door. I feel like I’ve failed him. Failed as a parent, as a sister, and as a protector. I did everything that I thought was right to keep him out of all this, yet here we are at the exact place I have worked so hard not to be in. As I look up and into my brother's eyes, I know there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.
“Stop being so fucking dramatic. I’ll be eighteen in two months. You can’t control me anymore. I’ll hang around whoever I want to and work for whoever I like, and you can’t stop me.” He takes a step back, waiting for me to respond, but I have nothing left to say. There isn’t a single thing I could say or do that will make him see the catastrophic mistake he is making. The more I push him, the further he will slip.
I look at him and still see my baby brother, but in truth, he has grown into a young man. A young man that I can no longer protect. He has to learn his own lessons now. I can’t keep picking up after him all the time and bust my ass to support him. However, how do I sit back and watch him destroy himself and not do anything? How do I let go?
“Real mature, Indie! You think the silent treatment is going to guilt me into an apology,” Austin finally breaks the awkward silence.
I let out a long breath. “No, I'm not giving you the silent treatment. I’m honestly just lost for words right now. I don’t know what you want me to say. But if it’s my approval you are waiting for...” I shake my head. “I can’t give that to you. I’ve always supported you, Austin. Your whole life, I have been there for you, but this... I can’t support this.” I step over the money on the floor, walk as calmly as my legs will allow me to my room, and quietly shut my door.
The sound of the front door slamming vibrates through my entire body. It chisels deep into my heart as my knees weaken with despair, and I fall to the floor. My lips quiver as the tears flow, soaking my shirt and drowning my soul. I feel so desperately hopeless that I’m scared. I’m so friggin scared for Austin, for me, and for the road that lies ahead of us now.
Chapter six
Roman
I PLACE MY PHONE AND laptop on the small white tray on the table, then watch as the security officers scan them through the machine along with my briefcase. I’ve passed through this security scanner more times than I’ve walked through my own front door. Not even having to show my ID anymore, I pass by the officers and greet them each by name.
Liam is standing in front of the chambers. He narrows his eyes when he sees me approaching then checks his watch, shaking his head. I look at my own watch; I’m precisely on time. What is he so worked up for?
“I have a ten-thirty meeting with Price and then a contract exchange at twelve.” I don’t bother with a hello. “So, let’s get this over with quickly.”
A new energy courses through my veins the moment I step into the courtroom. It always happens, that mighty, indomitable, capable feeling that fills me to my core. It’s like I was meant to breathe this air, meant to warm this seat. Every fibre of my being feels confident, powerful, and fearless. I know the law like I wrote the damn thing.
It’s invigorating and cathartic the way everyone's eyes follow us as we make our path to our client. Dario Delgardo. A rich kid with no brains. Dario is the son of Sol Delgardo, a high-ranked politician in Boston. The stupid shit got himself caught with a stolen car and fifty thousand dollars in drug cash. Just barely eighteen, and he has made a monumental mistake. One that could cost him his freedom and his father’s career if Liam and I don’t make this go away.
Dario clears his throat, the only sign of nerves he shows through his smug-looking face. He’s aware his daddy has paid good money to clear his name. His conscience though appears to be clean as a whistle.
We all rise as Judge Anderson makes his grand entrance, and I can’t help but smirk when his face drops as he looks in my direction. I’m certain it has everything to do with the envelope of photographs I had delivered to his home this morning. Naughty Judge Anderson has been a bad, bad boy. He really did make it easy. A man of his stature should conceal his after-hours activities better.
I look at him, smugly, raising a brow.
Game on.
As expected, Judge Anderson accepted my motion to dismiss, and I am on my way back to the office right on schedule. One of the most important things my father taught me was that everyone has skeletons hidden somewhere; you just have to look in the right place.
I check through the dozen messages on my phone and decide to call back the one that intrigues me the most. Leo Moretti.
Leo owns a strip club in downtown Boston. He is a small fish in a big pond, so to speak. Leo cleans dirty money through his club for a bigger fish, Micky Ruso, better known as Grizzly. I don’t concern myself too much with the logistics of it all, but I am aware that Grizzly is not a man to mess with. He did not get his nickname from being pleasant. I've never had to deal with him personally, but I know my father has done some work for his in the past. Leo, on the other hand, I’ve known him my whole life. We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and mingled with the same crowds. That was until Leo went against my better judgment and got himself involved with Mickey Russo. Although, I do some work for him here and there, we don’t have the same kind of friendship as we did when we were kids. The game has changed him.
I have not heard from him in months, so I’m really interested to hear what he wants. I doubt very much after our last conversation that he is just wanting to grab a drink to catch up. He was not particularly impressed that I told him I would visit his grave soon.
“About time you called back,” Leo answers after the first ring like he had his thumb hovered over the phone screen waiting for my call. “I've left you four messages.”
“You do realize I’m an attorney, right?” I answer sarcastically. “We’re notoriously bad at returning calls that don’t make us money.”
“I don’t have time for jokes, Judge. I’m holding a written violation notice in my hand.”
“Don’t stress, Moretti. You’ll have ninety days to fix the issues noted.”
“Well, that’s the problem. I only just found it under the mountain of papers on my desk. I have until Tuesday. There is no way in hell I can get this sorted in four days, and they will shut me down.”
“I’m a criminal lawyer, Moretti. I don’t know much about building codes, but I will take a look this evening if you email me a copy of the letter. Don’t worry yourself. I’m sure we can get you an extension. Leave it with me, and I’ll drop by the club tomorrow night with a solution.”
Chapter Seven
Indie
IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT, and although this seedy strip joint is not exactly how I had envisioned my weekend, it's earning me some extra cash. Leah’s uncle Tony has hired me for a few hours to take photographs of his nephew's bachelor party.
