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“I like dogs,” I said. “I like cats too.”
“You like cats?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m allergic as hell, but I don’t mind them.”
“Animal lover, huh.” She shook her head and reached up to take her bun down. Her thick dark hair spilled down her shoulders. “Never would’ve guessed it.”
I stared at her toned arms, her breasts rising up and shaking ever so slightly as she put her hair back up into a bun.
“Guess you don’t know me all that well.”
“Guess not.” She finished the bun and took a breath then leaned toward me. “Look, Vince. I have to admit something to you.”
“Uh oh,” I said, crossing my legs and sipping my beer. “You’re a fed, huh?”
“What?” She blinked rapidly. “Oh, god, no, no, not at all.” Her face turned red and I laughed at her.
“I’m fucking with you,” I said. “Relax. What do you want to admit?”
She glared at me and tried to compose herself, but I clearly knocked her off her game.
“Look, I’ve been working freelance for a couple years now,” she said. “Been writing all these awful little nothing stories for the Inquirer and the Metro, and I’m sick of it, you know?”
“I can imagine,” I said.
“I need one decent story to break in,” she said. “Maybe a profile about… you know. An interesting person, such as yourself.”
She stared at me with those pretty dark eyes and I felt a chill run down my spine.
“You want to write about me,” I said.
“A profile,” she said. “No names, no real solid details that would let anyone know it was about you. But something real, you know?”
“Interesting.” I sipped my beer again. It was hoppy and strong and felt good in my stomach. “But I’m having a hard time figuring out why I’d do something like that.”
She bit her lip. “Well, because… it would be good for you.”
I arched an eyebrow. “How?”
“All press is good press, right?”
“I’m not sure you really understand what I do.”
“But I do,” she said. “You guys, you’re not driving around breaking knees and killing people, right? You have legitimate businesses, all that stuff. A good profile about you, one that doesn’t make you look like some backwards monster, that might be good for you and your whole family.”
I watched her for a long moment, and I tried to figure out if she believed her own bullshit or not.
The last thing I wanted was a profile by a journalist.
It was true that we had legitimate businesses. More and more, we were going legit, because the profits were better and the risks were lower.
But we still did fucked-up things. We sold drugs, we stole, we extorted. We didn’t directly buy and sell girls, but we had plenty of strip clubs where the girls did a little something extra on the side and we took a cut of it. Most of our money came from that shit and no profile in the Inquirer would help business.
Then again, I had another couple weeks in the city at least, and I was bored. I was desperate for something to keep me entertained, and I knew this sexy little thing might be exactly what I needed.
I tilted my head and watched her. She squirmed a little and I thought I saw a bead of sweat roll down her arm. Fuck, it was almost sexy, the way she stared at me with a little hint of fear in her eyes.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“Really?” She brightened. “I mean, really, you should think about it. You should do it, I mean, I promise—”
“Don’t make promises,” I said, holding a hand up. “And don’t get too eager. I said I’ll think about it, and that’s the best I can do right now.”
She let out a breath and nodded. “Okay, great. That’s… really great.”
I leaned toward her and was going to say something clever and a little cutting, but my phone began to buzz in my jacket pocket. I sighed and took it out, stared at the screen for a second, then stood.
“My father,” I said. “Excuse me.”
She nodded and I walked a few feet away down the sidewalk. I stood in the shade of a small tree, just starting to grow into something mature, and took the call.
“Don Leone,” I said.
“Vincent.” My dad sounded annoyed. “Where are you?”
“At lunch.”
“Did you forget something?”
I tilted my head and stared at the stoop a few feet away. Slowly my brain churned until I let out long breath.
“I’ll be there,” I said and checked my watch. “I have time.”
“You better be there,” he said. “This is important.”
“I get it.” I took my phone from my ear and hung up on him. I slipped my phone away then walked to the table.
Mona looked up at me. “Everything okay?”
I nodded. “All good.” I took my wallet from my back pocket and took out a crisp wad of twenties. I counted them out then dropped twice what we owed on the table. “I have to go.”
