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“Out of town?” Lorenzo asked, brows raised.
And, yeah. As a whole, we all kind of stuck to the city. With our friends. With the Family.
“It was a big job,” I said, shrugging it off. “Need a break.”
“Alright,” Lorenzo said, nodding. “You gonna be available for contact?” he asked.
“I’ll bring a phone,” I told him. A burner. One that couldn’t trace back to me since I was clearly about to do something really fucking stupid.
But I couldn’t shake it.
The flash of lightning brightening up the sky.
The flash of red that didn’t belong in the woods at night.
I was never gonna be able to stop obsessing about it unless I went back to check shit out.
“Sounds good, then,” Lorenzo said, nodding at Emilio, who grabbed an envelope stuffed with cash, and passed it to me. “Double, obviously,” he said, shaking his head. “And your brother and Miko will also be slipping you something,” he added. “For the inconvenience.”
That was not common.
I guess the strikes were against Cosimo and his crew thanks to the shit with the murder trial a while back, and now this. They were getting some extra punishment. Where it hurt the most. Their pockets.
“Alright,” I said, throwing back the rest of my coffee, then standing. “I will shoot a text to each of the capos when I have a new burner number,” I said.
I swear, the mafia had to be some of the very few people left in the world who had phone numbers still memorized. For cases where we had to ditch our phones, had to pick up burners. You always had to be able to get in contact with the most important member of the Family.
“Try to have a good time,” Emilio said. Then, with a smirk, speaking mostly to Lorenzo, “If he’s even capable.”
I got it.
I was the dick of the Family.
Part of that was likely due to the huge fucking chip I’d carried on my shoulder for a big chunk of my life. Thanks, mostly, to a really fucking abusive-ass stepfather who pitted me against my step-brother, and made me constantly feel like I didn’t belong to this family because I didn’t have the blood in my veins.
What can I say? That shit fucked with my head.
It wasn’t until recently that I really started to settle into my place in this Family.
I pretended I didn’t hear the comment, and made my way out, giving Ant a nod, then heading back to my apartment.
What I needed most was to crash, to let my mind reset. But I couldn’t seem to force myself to sit down, let alone try to sleep.
Instead, I started to get my shit together.
Packing a bag, setting some affairs in order, then grabbing the bag, and a set of keys to a garage I rented out in Jersey, then hopping on a train, watching the city fade away behind me.
I cursed myself a fool a hundred times over before I stepped off of the train again. I caught a ride share to the garage where I opened the door to reveal the only car I actually owned.
I never used it. It was more like it was part of my many contingency plans in case shit hit the fan with the law than something I actually cared about. I dropped in a few times a year to turn it over, to drive it so it didn’t rust, to get it into the shop to make sure it would run if I ever needed it.
Like now.
Most people, when they thought of the mafia, thought of luxury cars. And, yeah, there was some of that. But I was old school. I was far too fucking aware of the ways the cops could come down on you.
Like with the GPS in your car.
So this car I kept hidden away?
