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“Mom,” I speak to her in Greek, knowing it will at least get me a couple of brownie points.
“Ambros, why is it you do not speak with your father? He has just told me you have been avoiding him for some time now. Do you think it is good for him with his failing health these days, hmm?” Well, I’ve been thrown straight into the depths of hell. She didn’t even give me time to warm up. She just started screaming and berating me like a naughty child.
“I’m not avoiding anyone. I’ve been doing job after job, had a wedding to attend, and now I’m on another job.”
She scoffs on the other end of the line. “Ambros, what do you think of me? Do you think I am stupid, that I am a fool? I carried you inside of me and have been your mother for thirty-two years. I know you better than these pathetic excuses you are trying to have me believe!”
Fuck, I’d better just stick with the lie now. “Mom, I’m not avoiding him.”
“You know I don’t believe a word you are saying to me right now.”
It’s obvious. I’m sure she’s flaring her nostrils and has lifted her chin up slightly. Every single time she’s angry, she does both of those things. They’re signature moves from her.
“Mom, I mean it. I’m not avoiding him. Can you cut me some slack?”
She begins laughing, but it isn’t an amused laugh. It’s a laugh that tells me she’s going to want to murder me the next time she sees me. “Slack? Oh no, you are far past that. Your father has been stressed. His health has been deteriorating, and he’s keeping this empire up on his shoulders. You should be helping him carry the burden, Ambros. It’s your duty. The Organization will eventually be yours, and you’re using your job as an excuse to be away from home. Away from us when we need you the most.”
Sometimes, I don’t think she understands how cruel and taxing my father can be. He treats her differently than he does Linus and me. She’s his partner, and we’re the people he’ll be handing the torch to when he’s ready to pass it down. I, for one, hope it’s just me. I don’t want Linus to be forced to live this life for the rest of his days.
“Mom, I don’t think this is as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. All I’m doing is working and setting an example. Do you think our contractors will do as good of a job if one of Achilles’ sons isn’t out getting their hands dirty? No. They’ll get lazy. We’ve seen it happen in the past when I wasn’t working out in the field as much.”
The truth, though. I am trying to avoid my father because I don’t want to deal with him right now. He’s too argumentative, and I don’t think it’s worth it most days. However, what I’m saying to my mother isn’t a lie. Our contractors had slacked when they noticed I wasn’t out doing what they do as much. I don’t know why they would, considering they get taken care of quite well financially.
“You get home after this job and meet with your father. I shouldn’t have ever been brought into this mess, and you know it.” My mother’s voice deepens, and she doesn’t even bother to say goodbye before she hangs up the phone on me.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and shake my head. I didn’t think he’d bring her into this, and she’s right. She shouldn’t ever have been brought in the middle. My issues with my father are my own.
I take another sip of my Freddo espresso. I’m calling it a coffee, but it’s really a coffee drink I usually get in Greece. Here in America, many people don’t know how to make it, though it’s not overly complicated. Every time I order it, I end up having to explain it to the barista—two shots of espresso poured over ice.
The sun has already gone down as I finish my drink and toss it in the nearest trash can. With it being the middle of May, it’s already humid here in New York. The streets are hustling and bustling as usual, but the building I’m staring at is the only thing I’m concerned about. At the Organization, we have a team of hackers who can access almost anything. I’ve already had them tap into the street cameras, so it will look like I wasn’t even here. All I’m waiting on now is confirmation they’ve hacked into the building’s security feed. When that’s done, I can proceed with my job, and it will be like I was never here in the first place.
My phone rings once, indicating I have a new text message. I open it up, and it’s from Dimitrios, one of the hackers at the Organization.
I open it up to see his text in Greek.
You’re clear to proceed.
I text him back with a simple thumbs-up emoji and kick myself off the wall. I head down to the intersection, where there’s a group of pedestrians waiting for the light to indicate we can walk across. A couple of the women turn back to look at me, and I smirk. Everywhere I go, I get some sort of attention from women. I used to love it. I loved it in the way addicts go for their drug or alcoholics go for their drink of choice. But something has changed in me over the last few days. I no longer crave attention from women like I used to before.
There’s only one woman’s attention that I crave. The same one who opted to leave me a handwritten note after a long night of having sex. They don’t make women like that anymore. Most women would leave their number and say text me, but not Xava. Xava left it simple and then vanished like a ghost in the night. I have never, ever had that happen.
Visions of her on the night of the wedding keep replaying in my mind. Not solely because we had great sex but also because we seemed to have a great connection. When I first saw her, she looked innocent, like a fawn, and as the night went on, I got to know her a bit more. Fawn. I like that. When I see her again, that is what I will call her—ελ?φι.
I shake my thoughts of Xava into the back of my mind as the light changes. The group of people begins walking, and I go along with them. Once I’m on the other side of the street, I make a left and head down the concrete sidewalk. The building sits halfway down the other end of this block, so I keep walking until I’m directly in front of the modern-looking skyscraper. I’d bet this was built or remodeled sometime in the last few years based on the glass structure on the outside of the building.
I walk in through the automatic doors, and just as I thought, the place is barren. My phone dings in my pocket again, so I take a quick glance to see who it is.
Again, it’s from Dimitrios.
The target is on the fifteenth floor in an office. Head south, and you’ll run right into him. I have the guards distracted with something, so they will not be a problem for you. When you leave, take the back staircase. It will lead you directly out into the alleyway, where we have a car waiting for you.
Very good. This is why I work for my family’s business. Every step of the way, you have some sort of support to make sure you’re not screwed over or left out in the cold. I continue through the building until I’m heading right for the elevators. I pull out my black gloves from my back pocket and slide them on, not wanting to leave any sort of fingerprints behind. There’s not one peep coming from anywhere in this place, so I make sure to stay as quiet as I can as well.
I press the button for the elevator, and almost instantly, the doors open. I head inside and tap on the button for the fifteenth floor. As the doors close, I lean back against the wall and wait for the elevator to take me to my desired floor.
The ride isn’t a long one, and once the doors open, I head toward the south side. My target today is Alexander Ferragimo. He’s a businessman turned politician who is in the running for New York’s next mayor. He’s well known around the city and is even more well known back in California, where the client who ordered the hit is from.
We don’t require our clients to give us details on why they’re ordering hits on people. Sometimes, the clients want to let us know, almost as if they think we’re going to judge them for ordering this service in the first place.
