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I wish Molly were here. I miss her when I’m not home. Hell, I even kind of miss her brother and her grandmother—I’ve gotten really close with those two since they moved into their new place. It hasn’t even been a month but we’re over there at least once a day, and Molly’s there more often, pretty much whenever I’m not home and she’s not working.
She’s happy. Or at least I think she’s happy. I spend most of my time performing my various acts of service—most of which involve me down on my knees licking, sucking, and fucking different parts of her body—and getting to know her in ways I never thought I’d know another human being.
Like for example, I know she thought the Backstreet Boys had gone to prison because their first single was all about how Backstreet was back or whatever. She figured that meant back from doing time. Which is hilarious. She was barely alive in their heyday.
And I’ve told her things I don’t tell anyone. Like about my fears around the family, how I’m worried Renzo’s taken on too much by becoming Don, and how our father basically traumatized all four of us to the point of being vaguely defective. I try not to tell her any detailed stories about what he did, but she’s gotten the gist.
I still haven’t mentioned her to anyone but Stefania and Dante. They both bug me about her all the time—especially Stefania. That girl has no chill in her.
“Bro, are you listening?” Carlo’s sitting forward with the binoculars plastered to his face. It’s a little past six in the evening and we’re at the end of our shift. I’m ready to go home and spend some time with my lovely, pregnant wife. Maybe fuck her in the bath. I haven’t decided.
“I tuned out your slurry rant a while ago.”
“I moved on from the slurry. Bro, look at that car.” He shoves the binoculars into my hands.
I peer at a dark green sedan parked in front of the main entrance. My heart starts racing as sweat breaks out under my arms. Finnian Lynch supposedly drives a dark green sedan. And when the driver’s side door opens?—
The man who emerges is tall and wiry with a shock of black hair. He’s wearing khakis and a dress shirt like he’s coming from a golf course, and I have to admit it’s a really fucking good disguise, but I know that hooked nose and that puckered mouth.
I give the binoculars back and rip out my phone. “It’s him.”
“Fuck, are you sure?” Then he’s looking and a laugh rips from his chest. “Holy shit, it’s really him. Holy shit! And his girlfriend is really fucking hot. Look at the tits on that one. I don’t blame him for taking this risk.”
“Dante?” He answers on the second ring. “We got him. Bring everyone. Full squad. Come fast.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Absolutely positive. Hurry up. We cover every exit. The second he tries to leave, we hit him. Shoot to kill. No hesitation.”
“Understood. Be there in ten.”
I hang up. “Lynch better fuck his girl nice and long. Dante’s on the way.”
“Good god. I really didn’t think this would work.” Carlo’s laugh is hysterical as he checks his gun to make sure it’s loaded. “Can I be the one that kills him?”
“I don’t give a shit, as long as he’s dead.” I go over my own weapon. “You ready? We’ll stake out the lobby while we wait.”
“Seriously, bro, Lynch is gonna be in there a while. His girl is very fucking fine. He’ll want to take his time.”
“Or she’s so fine he blows instantly.”
“Then he’ll practice his oral. She’s worth it.”
I elbow his ribs. “Quit getting hard over the enemy’s girlfriend. She might be dead too.”
He sighs. “Can we please spare her?”
“Shut up. That slurry’s ruining your brain.” I get out of the car and slam the door. I cross the street and stride through the parking lot.
Carlo catches up. “Bro, you’re not wrong. But imagine if we drank the slurry straight from the teat?”
“There’s no fucking chicken nugget slurry teat! What the hell is the matter with you!”
“It’s like that cake frosting pipe shit. You hold it up and squeeze it right from the source.”
“You’re fucking disgusting.”
The lobby’s quiet. Finnian’s nowhere nearby. The front desk girl gives us a curious look but doesn’t seem surprised when we go sit at the hotel bar. The young guy serving drinks brings over beers when we ask for them and I sit facing out, pretending to watch a TV on the right, while Carlo babbles about life extension science and the healing properties of fried foods.
