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“Think I made the right decision in building new rather than fixing someone else’s problem property,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s fucking exhausting,” I agreed.
“Seems to be doing you good, though,” he said, shrugging.
That was the fourth time I’d heard someone comment on the couple pound weight gain I’d put on.
Huck, Velle, Eddie, and even my sister Sass.
Had I gotten that thin that they’d been, I don’t know, worried about me?
I mean, yeah, actually, that made sense. There had been several false-start conversations with my brothers and their women over the past year or so, them clearly coming to me with concerned voices and sad eyes, but as soon as they tried to speak, I found an excuse to do anything other than listen to them.
And, if I was being honest with myself, I’d been obsessing.
About macros and micros.
About calories in versus out.
About the gym.
Had I developed some sort of disordered eating without fully recognizing it for what it was?
“Yeah, it’s a good workout,” I said, pushing those worries back to work through some other time. “Something going on?” I asked.
“I needed to talk to York,” he said.
“About?”
“His mob connections up in New York state,” Huck said.
York had worked for most of his life by hiding bodies for the mafia. A task, it seemed, that had involved a lot of grave digging in random forests where they would never be found.
He’d moved down to Florida when his grandfather got sick, then stayed on after he’d died because his work up north got taken over by someone else.
“We having issues with the mob?” I asked.
Tony Barelli, the boss of the local mafia family, always seemed to be friendly with the club, ever since his connection to Donovan was made clear to everyone.
“Had a visit from Barelli,” Huck said, exhaling. “He’s having some… disagreements with one of the New York families. State, not city,” he clarified, though I didn’t know anything about the mafia up north to know the difference between the ones in the city or state.
“And, what? He wanted information out of York?”
“That… seemed to be what he was fishing for,” Huck admitted.
“Doesn’t he have enough to do with the never-ending feud with the Russians?”
“You’d think. Guess that shit is old news at this point,” Huck said.
“How are you handling it with York?”
“Leaving it up to him,” Huck said. “I get that he has old loyalties. Wouldn’t exactly trust him in my club if he immediately rolled on his old allies. But if shit went sour at the end, or there is new… management… that’s up to him if he’s willing to speak.”
“Alright. Good to know. Coast is a good shot, by the way. Sloppy in form, but he can get shit done.”
“Good,” he said, nodding. “And Velle?” he asked.
I forced myself not to react to that.
