Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Was it truly only about the money?
I doubted it.
I buried myself in work the next couple of days—and I studiously ignored any calls and messages from my mother and sisters. By now, I was sure my argument with them had made rounds in the family.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I’d been an asshole to dismiss Alfie’s fears. My mother and sisters lived and breathed gossip, and they loved to judge others. Why would that magically exclude Alfie? Why would I, even for a second, assume they’d accept him wholeheartedly? Just because I had?
I got stuck in traffic on my way home on Tuesday, and it was as predictable as my work had become. I still enjoyed my position, but it’d been a long time since anything exciting had happened. The show I produced evolved at a snail’s pace, just enough to ensure decent ratings, and then we threw specials into the mix—or controversial topics—to create headlines when we needed a boost.
It was the second most popular morning show in Pennsylvania, the fourth most popular on the East Coast, and its accompanying podcast was on the rise in the ranks as well. But overall, I missed the excitement of struggling. The show was…comfortable. Fairly unthreatened. A Philadelphia staple that wasn’t going anywhere.
I hit another standstill and brought out my phone.
I’d become obsessed with checking Alfie’s Instagram.
I was pathetic.
You heartbreaking little liar.
A heartbreaking little liar who’d thankfully taken Trip for a haircut today. Trip smiled proudly in the picture and held up a sticker he’d received at the salon. Same crew cut like always, a little longer on the sides and messy up top, “Like Dad’s.” Like Alfie’s.
I hit the heart-button and made sure to leave a comment for our boy.
Very handsome. Please tell him to stop growing up so fast.
I wasn’t the only one who’d left a mark. Giulia had gushed over how cute Trip was, and so had Emilia O’Shea. And Nessa Murray…
That’s a cool little dude!
Did she view Trip as her nephew now? Did they really consider each other family?
This morning, in the middle of a meeting, I’d found myself drifting off in my mind, rationalizing and bargaining about the whole thing. Mafia had family too. Surely I didn’t have to worry about Trip and Ellie’s safety. According to Emilia’s Instagram, she and Finnegan had at least four or five children, and they hosted a lot of dinners and barbecues where children were running around. I couldn’t imagine them being unsafe in that environment. Mobsters led two separate lives—one very wholesome, one less so.
After the meeting, I’d grown sick with myself for thinking in these terms. Mafia was still mafia. They were a threat to society. They preyed on others to get rich.
That, in turn, had prompted a little voice in the back of my head.
The only difference between the mafia and a big corporation is that the corporation preys on others legally. The mafia doesn’t.
I was clearly fucked in the head. The mafia murdered too.
We’d actually dedicated a show or two to the Sons of Munster over the years. Most recently, a few years ago when the Sons had been in the middle of some kind of turf war that had taken them to Europe. Basically overnight, Philadelphia’s crime rate had gone up. They’d left a power vacuum smaller gangs had been eager to fill. And once the Sons returned, all was well again within a few weeks. They’d cleaned up the streets faster than any police force could.
We’d had a police officer and a detective on the show, comparing the situation to South American cities that were known as cartel strongholds. And the reality was that these larger organizations maintained a sense of peace that the authorities couldn’t. Because prison sentences didn’t ward off crime the way a big crime syndicate did. Their methods were harsher and didn’t offer second chances.
Finnegan O’Shea had a reputation for being equal parts ruthless and protective. Protective of the community in which he’d grown up. Ruthless to anyone who threatened it. And how he kept evading the law was a mystery to me. But I supposed the comparison to South American cartels was more than valid. After all, people still defended certain cartel leaders’ heritages. They were heroes to many in the eighties and nineties, and that reverence lived on to this day due to everything they’d done for local communities.
My phone buzzed with a message as traffic finally started moving again, and I clicked on the preview at the top of the screen to see a text from Alfie.
The children’s festival tomorrow. Ellie and Trip wanted me to ask if you’d like to go with us. I think it’d be good if they saw us spending some time together with them. Are you available for a couple hours?