Page 50 of Pink

How many kindergarteners were counting past fifty by the time they started school? Not very many. He was damn proud of his girl.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he met her big smile with his own. No, the last few years hadn’t been easy. Not on him, or her, he was sure. Even if she never showed it or asked for anything more than what he provided. She was happy, yes, and so was he. Sometimes, though, he wondered if this little girl of his might be missing out on something more.

Like a mom.

Or … anything.

He didn’t know.

She never said.

Lev was kind of scared to ask.

“Better tell Nessa that when you get to daycare,” he told her. “She really wants to be there, so we can’t let her forget the date.”

“I will,” his daughter replied, “promise.”

Not that Nessa would—like him, the date was marked in her phone. Because despite how much work Lev had done to raise his daughter alone, there had been people who helped. She was one of those, and if there was anybody else in the world who loved his kid as much as he did, it was Nessa.

Arely hadn’t just saved him when she came into his life so unexpectedly. She also gave a troubled teen a place to focus her energy—and a reason to keep doing better. Nessa did exactly that, too. Now, she was studying to get her degree in early childhood education while working at the same daycare that Arely attended five days a week.

Picking up the yellow dress, Lev asked, “Ready to get this day started?”

Arely flung the phone across the bedspread. “Let’s do this!”

That was his kid.

Always down.

So long as he was there.

• • •

While some shit changed as time passed, other things never did. One of those happened to be the fact that Andino Marcello handled business and started his workday at the same place no matter what.

At his restaurant in Manhattan.

La Vita Bella.

And because that’s where his boss showed up every single morning, that’s also where Lev was expected to be considering where Andino went, so did he. Even if that meant a trip to the West Coast for the weekend, or a flight to Chicago for a dinner with the Outfit boss on a Wednesday evening just because.

Sure, Andino had other enforcers—he simply preferred Lev.

“Pink—my man!” The guy, a face Lev recognized but couldn’t place with a name, stood from the dining table filled with people he didn’t know or care about, to greet him with a slap to his shoulder. He offered the guy a grin and nod, but it wasn’t enough to indicate he needed to keep moving to the rear of the busy business to find his boss. The man kept talking. “How’re things? Been what, a couple of months since I last saw you, huh?”

“Something like that. Glad to see you’re well. I’m on my way to the back—”

“No, sit down. Have a drink. Is Andino around? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Why did people still think he wanted to be sociable? Lev was just here to work.

Oh, and the nickname?

Yeah, that shit stuck. Of course, it quickly became shortened from Mr. Pink to just plain old Pink. Lev thought the tried and true philosophy of ignoring anyone who said it would work, but it didn’t. Shocker.

All it took was one man—Theo DeLuca, infamous front boss for the Chicago mob—saying it for it to catch like fucking wildfire. By the time Theo left that day? Everybody called him Pink from that moment forward. Well, everybody who didn’t know him outside of work, anyway. Working with Andino, however … he wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing. Really, he honestly hadn’t thought the nickname would stick.

But it did.