“Haven’t seen your face in fucking ages,” he said as we broke apart.
“Yeah. It’s… weird to be back.”
“Weird? To be back with family? Dunno if I like how that sounds. How have—”
“Boss,” the kid—Nero—called, “hate to be this guy, but you’re not supposed to be on the street right now.”
“Something going down?” I asked, feeling a surge of adrenaline that I hadn’t experienced in years. But there was something familiar and almost comforting about it. Maybe because it was a sign that my body did remember this, that it would all come back to me if I just gave it time.
“Always something,” he said, slapping my shoulder and leading me up the stairs to the brownstone. “Nero, this is Chris. He’s a, fuck, what is it? Second cousin once removed or some shit? Chris, this is Nero. One of Miko’s brothers.”
“Miko,” I repeated.
“Shit, yeah. You have been gone a while. Miko was an associate under Cosimo a while back. He’s a capo now. This fuck is hoping to get there one day.”
A whole new generation getting Made.
That should have been me years ago.
If life had gone differently.
I shook away those thoughts, trying not to let the feelings about being left behind take hold and root.
My life went differently.
Got sidetracked for a while.
I was getting it back on track now.
“Used to have your job,” I told Nero.
“Want it back?” he asked, shooting me a smirk.
Young and hungry.
I remembered those days.
I moved into the townhouse with a man who used to be like a brother to me.
It had been nothing like this the last time I’d been inside. Lorenzo had just started renovating when I left. It looked like a whole home now.
I could see his wife, Gigi, all around in the décor. And evidence of the kids all around: a half-built model car on the coffee table, a pile of children’s books on an end table, a forgotten single sock.
Lorenzo led me into the dining room and waved toward one of the chairs.
“Where’s the family?”
“Kids are at school. Gigi left with a tray of food, so I’m assuming she’s off with the other wives, stuffing someone’s freezer. She’ll be happy to see you, though. Been years, but she still asks about you. She’s gonna insist you come to dinner.”
“Got two extra chairs?” I asked.
Lorenzo’s head tipped to the side, his brows pinched.
I exhaled hard.
“Alright. There’s no easy way to lead into this.”
“I got as much time as you need,” he invited, resting an arm on the table.
