Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Dante told me you went to that bar again.”
Ah, fuck. Goddamn Dante. I consider lying, but there’s no point. “I like it there.”
“Saul.”
“Dante needs to get a life. What’s he doing, following me around?”
“He drove through the neighborhood on patrol and saw your fucking car parked on that block. Didn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
I grunt and tilt my head side to side. “Yeah, okay, that’s my bad then.”
“I told you—”
“No, Dante told me, and I’m done with the Duck, okay? I don’t need you to reprimand me for going to a fucking bar.”
He grimaces and looks away. My brother’s a good Don. He cares about his family and will do anything for them. But sometimes, he gets a little too involved in shit that doesn’t matter.
“I’m just worried, that’s all. Every time you go there without backup, you’re exposed.”
“I hear you,” I say, softening my tone. “But we’re good. I’m not going back.”
I don’t need to anymore, but I don’t have to explain to him.
And the matter’s done. Renzo moves on to other business. The Russians chased off some of our dealers the night before. The Irish are starting trouble down on the docks. A shipment of guns went missing. The usual shit. We make plans for how we’ll respond, set a meeting for later in the day to check in, and I head out. If there are a hundred things on my mind, there are a thousand on Renzo’s. I used to want his job, but taking over as his underboss taught me something important.
Sitting on top isn’t always the best view.
In the hall, a girl with dark hair comes speed walking toward me. “On your right!” she hollers.
I stick out my leg to trip her. Stefania hops right over, barely breaking stride, and manages to flip me off in the process. “What’s the hurry?” I ask, jogging to catch up.
“Exercise.” Her arms pump furiously as she turns down another hall. “Got to keep my heart rate up between sets.”
“Jesus, you’re insane. Can’t you do this outside?”
“We don’t have a weight bench outside.” She glares at me. “How about you let me work out in peace?”
“But it’s more fun to piss you off.”
She grunts, annoyed, and we reach the gym. She heads over to the squat machine, does a few reps, and towels off when she’s done. I lean against the door, making lewd gestures at my little sister, until she finally throws a water bottle at my face.
“You’re lucky that was my last set,” she says, leaning up against the wall.
“Yeah? You’re lucky you didn’t actually run into me.”
“Please, I used to kick your ass when we were younger.” She makes a muscle. “I’m stronger now.”
“Puny. Pathetic.” I flick her head and she swats at me. “How’s it going around here?”
She shrugs and wipes her forehead with a towel. “Renzo’s pissy. Carlo comes and goes. Gian’s never around. But Maddie and Allegra are awesome, and their kids are really cute. It’s weird that I’m an aunt.”
“You’re twenty-two. You’re not an aunt.” I still think of Stefania as a little baby. She was my mother’s little miracle, born way after Gian. By the time she came around, Mother and Father were basically tapped out, which meant we raised her. Which is probably why she turned out to be such a snot-nosed, sarcastic little prick.
“Totally am, dude. And you’re an uncle.” She makes a face. “God, these kids are so screwed.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. Allegra and Maddie are great moms. They’ll balance out the Rossi insanity.”
“Better hope so.”
“Where are they right now, anyway? I could use a little baby time before I get to work.”
“They’re sitting out with Mom. I was heading out there if you want to come?”
“Lead the way.”
Stefania takes us back through the house, talking about little Brando’s adventures in messing things up. Maddie and Renzo’s three-year-old is a total terror: he whips around the house, pulling things down, throwing his toys, basically a little pint-sized hurricane. He’s adorable though, with dark curls and a cherub face, and the little bastard can basically do whatever he wants because he’s always smiling and laughing. Even when he’s getting yelled at, the kid’s got a grin on his cute little face. It’s hard to be pissed at such a happy, funny guy.
We find the terror on the back porch playing with his cousin, Cassie. She’s only one and can’t keep up, but they’re stacking blocks and knocking them down with plastic dinosaurs. Mom’s sitting in her usual spot watching everything with a vague smile—I’m not sure how much she understands since her Alzheimer’s is pretty advanced at this point—while Maddie and Allegra sit with her, chatting amiably about motherhood.
“There they are,” Stefania announces. Brando squeals, runs toward her, then veers away at the last second. He barrels into my arms.