Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Julian joked that she was giving him person-lessons, and that was more or less accurate. She got on him for staring and slouching. She made him speak up, loudly and clearly. We were paying him a small fortune for his role in the con, but he probably should’ve given her a big cut for making him into an actual human being.
She even made him look like one, too. He couldn’t turn up looking like he'd just gotten out of bed. He had to look after himself, which meant brushing his hair and shaving off the ragged patches of hair on his face that he’d laughingly called a beard.
He looked like a completely different person an hour before the fundraiser started. Slater, Julian, and I were in the basement of the Ritz. Eddie’s uniform, and his much-improved appearance, made him look like a convincing bellhop. As he paced and fidgeted with his bowtie, we went over the plan one more time.
“We know Roselli’s going to have someone on the floor,” I began. The room where the dancer was supposedly waiting was on the seventh floor. “I’ll take him out when he comes in. Make sure you all stay away from the lobby, or you’ll run into wise guys.”
“I’ll guard the door,” Slater said, Eddie shuffling away from the mirror. “That fuckwad will definitely try to escape when he sees us in that room.”
“Please, don’t tell me you want me to chase after him,” Eddie interjected. “I’m not fit enough for that.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I rolled my eyes. “How many times do we have to repeat this? All you have to do is get on the fucking walkie and tell us when he’s on his way. Got it?”
“Yeah,” he said on an exhale. “I really hope I don’t mess this up.”
“You’d better not.” Julian barely held onto his temper.
I sighed. If Maggie were here, I knew what she’d want us to do. “You can do it,” I told the boy. “You’re ready, and you know what to do.” Then I kicked Slater in the shin before he could say anything negative.
“All right, boys,” I said, clapping my hands to get their attention like a damned schoolteacher. “I’ll be waiting outside the room, just in case the little prick manages to shake you. Let’s do this.”
Tension building within, I moved away from them.
The lobby was already bustling once I’d climbed the stairs. There were some really nice smells in the air, like molten cheese and bacon. Two waiters rushed past me, talking over each other. The red carpet underneath my feet was spotless. I couldn’t even make out a speck of dust. The hotel workers had to have been working overtime, in order to welcome some of the worst criminals in New York.
In the elevator, I couldn’t help smiling at the irony of what was going to go down tonight. Most of the men attending this party belonged in prison. I had a lot of respect for Gambini, but he wasn’t all that much better than Roselli. Gambini just treated his crew better, by handing out bonuses every once in a while. He was also much more polite to them.
Had he sanctioned murder?
Yep.
Had he been dealing drugs?
Of course.
Had he broken people’s fingers and legs for failing to pay their loans in time?
Sure he had—or more likely, he’d made his men do it.
And those were just his lesser crimes. Soon, the party would be filled with dozens of men exactly like him.
But I couldn’t dwell on that stuff. I had to focus on the immediate, which was Nick Roselli. I wasn’t going to be the one to purge New York. I had no interest in becoming a vigilante. All I wanted tonight was to remove the man who had double-crossed me and my friends. The man who was determined to end the most amazing woman I knew.
I stopped at the eighth floor and rolled a cart out of the elevator, dressed as a maintenance worker. Julian and Slater should already be in the hotel room one flight down, waiting for Roselli. An elderly couple exited their room on my left, so I pulled out a screwdriver and pretended like I was fixing a light high up on the wall. The people who could afford to stay here would never notice a lowly maintenance worker.
After what felt like an eternity, Eddie’s thin voice in my earpiece made me stop moving altogether.
“Guys, are you there?” He asked, the noise from the lobby faint in the background.
“Talk to me, Eddie. Where’s Roselli? In the elevator?”
“No. I had to come to the men’s room, because the lobby’s just too crowded. The strangest thing happened when I told him that one of the dancers was waiting for him on the seventh floor.”
My stomach did a painful flip flop. “What’s that?”