Page 47 of Luca


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My only issue is regarding their safety. I have to live with enough guilt over my mother and Antonia. And now Jillian is unknowingly at risk because of me. How many more will have targets on their backs?

Throwing my hands up in surrender, I try to rationalize with my friend and co-worker. “Sampson, I hear you. I have absolutely no prejudice against women. But this job is already stressing me the fuck out. There are some crass, horny fuckers in this place.” I stop, peering out over the new recruits, awaiting this orientation to begin. “And those are just the ones I know. I don’t have a human resources department. It’s all me here. Who do they go to if they’re feeling harassed? If it’s me, we’re all in trouble.”

Sampson gives me a perplexed stare.

“Because I’ll go to jail for killing the motherfucker. I don’t have any patience when it comes to men hurting women.”

His face softens, and I can tell he’s starting to understand. I’d offer to make this man a partner and allow him to run the show. I trust him that much. But I couldn’t put him in that position and still withhold the serious threat my family possesses. It just wouldn’t be right.

“I get it. Never thought about that, to be honest. How’s this? I find some old bird who'd be more like a den mother to thesejokers? To have someone else at least try to manage the load a little for you? You can’t keep doing everything yourself.”

I run my hand through my hair. It's not ideal, but it might actually work. “That’s not a bad idea.” I walk over to stand in front of the new hires when it hits me. “Hey. Just make sure whoever they are, they don’t start bringing in cakes and cookies.”

Sampson lifts his brow like I’m totally off my rocker.

As if it was planned, I watch George stroll behind the guys seated in chairs, his lunchbox in hand. With Sampson still looking at me, I nod in George’s direction. “If that happens, I’ll never get that big oaf to work.”

After making an introductory welcome to the new guys on the crew, I let Sampson take over and head outside to clear my head. Between the high of last night and the stress of today, it feels like I’m on an emotional rollercoaster.

I reach into my back pocket for my cigarettes and pull out a Dum Dum. Shit. This dayhadto be bad if I’d forgotten about these. I pull it closer to check out the flavor and grin. Blueberry Blast.

“You’ve finally done it.”

My head flies toward the voice, and find George sitting on the ground, back against the building, eating what looks like a triple decker sandwich of some sort.Are those bananas?“Me?” I ask, baffled. I’m the one doing something odd in this scenario?

“Yep. You’re as loopy as a cross-eyed cowboy with those things.”

That’s the pot calling the kettle black.

I open the lollipop in dramatic fashion and pop it into my mouth. Why am I listening to this guy? Looking back at him, my curiosity gets the best of me. “What exactly are you eating?”

“Banana and mayonnaise sandwich.”

I can feel the acid churning in my stomach and have to actively try not to throw up in my mouth. Where does this man come up with this stuff? Looking down at the shopping list I’ve compiled for the backyard movie night party, I try to block all thoughts of foods that should never be paired together and realize I’ve forgotten something.

“George, I need to borrow your car.”

“Again? You’re the richest guy I know. Why do you keep borrowing other people’s cars?”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to come up with something on the fly. “Bored.”

“I get to drive yours home, right?”

Shit. What is this man going to do in my car? “Yes. Why?”

“Just thought I’d take out the missus.”

Looking at him suspiciously, I hate that I have to utter these words. “Okay. Just no eating in my car. Foodorher.”

George’s eyes bulge out of his head. Guess I’ve finally found the one thing that’snoton the menu at his house. Not that I want to consider that any further. He tosses me his keys, and I do the same.

As I turn to head back inside to finish up for the day before heading out, I hear him mutter behind me.

“Nuttier than a porta potty at a peanut festival.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jillian

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