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Me: I can manage, Ms. Bianchi.
Astoria: Alright. You can pick me up at the hospital. I would tell you where it is, but I’m sure you already know.
Me: Smart woman.
Astoria: See you tomorrow, Carlo.
I hesitate before texting back.
Me: Good night.
So far so good. This arrangement might not be the headache I was so worried it would be. As long as Astoria and I continue to act civil with one another, things might actually turn out alright.
* * *
The next daycomes with a list of problems. A few of our men are arrested in the middle of striking a lucrative deal. The forestalling of the deal costs us a lot of money and the station they’re being held at is refusing to release them. Something about orders from the higher-ups. Someone in the FBI is keeping an eye on the case.
With gritted teeth, I text my youngest brother.
Me: Tell your father-in-law to lay off us.
His reply is instantaneous.
Topher: I’ll see what I can do but you know how he is. Whatever’s wrong, I’m sure you and the Don will sort it out.
I sigh. This isn’t an issue we can solve tonight. James Malone’s an unrelenting hard man. One would think that his daughter joining our family would cause him to be a little more lenient, but it’s been the opposite. He’s working even harder to hit us from every angle. It’s really starting to piss me off. The men in custody might just have to settle for some time in jail. I’ll make sure they’re compensated adequately.
I inform Christian of the development, and he tells me he’ll look into it. By the time I’m able to leave the precinct, it’s time to pick up Astoria. I briefly wonder if it’s a good idea to even see her. I’m on edge, considering everything that’s happened today, and a little angry. Still, it’s too late to cancel our plans now.
As soon as I arrive at the parking lot, I send a text informing her that I’m here. But she doesn’t reply. I wait for ten minutes before my patience runs out. I head for the front desk. The woman behind it raises an eyebrow as I approach.
“Can I help you?” she questions.
“I was wondering where Dr. Bianchi is?”
Calling her a doctor feels weird. It hits me that I’ve really separated a part of her life from my overall sense of who she is.
The woman’s eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry and you are?”
“Her boyfriend,” I reply, glad that the lie flows easily past my lips.
Her eyes widen further. “I’m sorry, what?”
I don’t repeat myself.
“Are you going to tell me where she is or not?” I question tiredly.
She nods, though her eyes are narrowed suspiciously. “Fourth floor. She should be wrapping up her rounds by now. Her office is the third door on the right.”
I head for the elevator. There’s no one walking the hallways of the third floor when I arrive, and I immediately head for the door the receptionist directed me to. The plaque in front reads, ‘resident’s office.’ When I knock, though, there’s no reply. It’s not like I can just barge in. I call her, but she doesn’t pick up her phone.
With a frustrated huff, I walk out into the hallway and eventually find myself in front of the children’s ward. A voice has my footsteps halting. Her voice. So I stay out of sight beside the entrance to the ward and listen.
“So I have to use drugs every day forever?” comes a tiny feminine voice.
Astoria laughs softly. There’s some rustling and then she’s speaking to the little girl, her voice gentle.
“Of course not. Just until you get better, sweetheart.”
