Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
“Huh?”
“You said you’re ‘pretty sure’ I’d get the ‘equivalent’ of a slap on the wrist.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Carlo shrugs. “Fifty-fifty?”
Auggie palms his forehead. “Jesus Christ.”
Carlo chuckles. “It’s gonna be okay, my friend, as long as you both do what I’m telling you. Come to New Jersey for the birthday party and bring the money in a carry-on. Let Mr. DiMarco see Charlotte didn’t stay away; let him see her happy, relaxed face, and yours, too, and Mr. DiMarco won’t believe the new guy over me, if it comes to that. On a personal note, it’ll also help me for Genevieve to see you two together. Like I said, my wife’s got a jealous streak a mile wide, so it’ll be good for her to see with her own two eyes that you’ve moved on, especially with a guy who looks like this.”
I feel sick. “What if I can’t get the money in time for the party? What will happen then?”
“Then you’ll come to the party, anyway. In fact, that’d be all the more reason for you to show up—with Auggie—to keep the big guy from suspecting you.”
I look around the storage unit, feeling frantic. “I can’t do it, Carlo. Call your boss now. I’ll confess everything and beg for mercy. I’m the one who took the money. I’m the only one who should suffer the consequences.”
Carlo shakes his head. “It’s too late for that, sweetheart. I’m on the hook now, and so is he.” He points at Auggie. “I’d never let anyone hurt a hair on your head, so if we need a fall guy, I’m sorry to say Auggie’s gonna have to be it. Sorry, my friend.”
I whimper. “If anything were to happen to Auggie, that’d be worse than something happening to me. Please, leave him out of this.”
“Meh. You’ll get over it. Broken hearts mend. Hearts with bullet holes in ‘em? Not so much.”
“Bullet holes?” Auggie shouts. “What happened to me getting slapped on the wrist?”
“That’s still a good bet,” Carlo says with a wink. He laughs at Auggie’s forlorn expression. “Everything’s gonna be okay, guys. If we work together and follow my plan, to a T, I have full faith we’re gonna be able to fix this problem and never look back.”
12
AUGGIE
“You dated a fucking hitman for the mob . . . and now you’ve sicked the motherfucker on me?”
I’m saying these shocking words to Charlotte in my parked SUV, while holding up an article on my phone to emphasize my point. The second Carlo drove away from the storage facility, we piled into my car and locked the doors. But rather than turning on the ignition, I quickly searched “DiMarco mob mafia organized crime New York Jersey” on my phone. And, voila, one Vincent DiMarco of New Jersey popped right up in an article detailing a slew of federal charges filed against him four years ago—charges for stuff like racketeering, obstruction of justice, and tax evasion. True, those charges didn’t wind up sticking; but, regardless, the obvious takeaway from the article is that Vincent DiMarco is almost certainly heavily involved in organized crime, whether the feds can currently prove it or not.
“Okay, in my defense,” Charlotte says, when she sees the headline of the article I’m showing her, “I didn’t know that stuff about Mr. DiMarco at first. Which means I also didn’t know Carlo was a hitman for the mob. When I found out, I immediately broke up with him.”
“What the fuck did you think Carlo did for a living?”
“I thought Mr. DiMarco was a wildly successful businessman and Carlo his head bodyguard. Rich people have bodyguards, right? Yes, I figured Carlo, as a bodyguard, probably roughed people up, if they caused trouble. But I had no idea Carlo actively tracked down people on Mr. DiMarco’s shit list in order to do god-knows-what to them.”
“To murder them, Charlotte. I believe that’s the word you’re looking for. Murder.”
“Not necessarily. We don’t know that for a fact.”
“The man works for a mob boss.”
“Allegedly.”
“I think it’s an unavoidable conclusion, especially when Carlo himself literally said I’d have to take a bullet for you, if we can’t come up with the money in time.”
“That was a figure of speech. And don’t forget, he also said you’d almost certainly get nothing but a simple slap on the wrist, even if the shit hits the fan.”
“No, he said he was ‘pretty sure’ I’d get the equivalent of a slap on the wrist. Well, what’s the equivalent in Carlo’s world? One broken leg, instead of two? A bullet in my shoulder, instead of my heart? Whatever it means, Carlo also said it’s only fifty-fifty a slap on the wrist will be my fate, if we can’t come up with the money you stole in time.”
“Steal isn’t really the right word. I picked it up off the ground after it had fallen off a cart, through no fault of mine. And I don’t believe for a minute Carlo would ever let you get hurt, Auggie.”