Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Jack muttered, “That’s literally the worst plan ever in the history of plans,” and went back to staring out the window.
When we reached my brother’s apartment, I dodged the awkwardness of defining Jack’s and my relationship by not even trying. Instead, I said, “Mom and Romy, I’d like you to meet Jack Granger. I brought him with me from San Francisco, and he helped me clean up the bar this morning. Jack, please say hello to my mother, Amanda Russo, and my kid brother Romeo Russo.”
During the introductions, I studied my family. Romy was his usual sunshiny self, but Mom seemed a bit off. I tried to figure out why and looked closer. Her long, light brown hair was still damp from a shower, and she was wearing one of Romy’s UNLV T-shirts with her usual jeans and boots. The shirt was big on her, so that might have been why she seemed so thin. She looked tired too, not surprisingly after being up most of the night. I felt guilty for the stress this had caused her.
“Everyone calls me Romy,” my brother was saying. He smiled and shook Jack’s hand while he did a quick assessment of his unexpected houseguest. Jack had managed to put himself back together flawlessly, and no one would ever guess he’d spent the night in that suit.
“And you can call me Mandy,” my mom chimed in, as she took a turn looking Jack over and shaking his hand. By their reactions, it was obvious they assumed we were a couple, and I wasn’t going to correct them—not right now, anyway.
Jack had stopped sulking and instead was laying on the charm and charisma. He smiled at them and said, “It’s an absolute pleasure. Reno goes on and on about you both, especially you, Romy. I’ve never met a prouder big brother.”
My mom beamed at him, and then she said, “Thanks for cleaning up the bar. I was going to tackle it this afternoon, but I’m glad it’s done.”
“Yeah, it’s all taken care of,” I told her, as I shifted a heavy shopping bag in my arms and led the way to the kitchen. “I brought lunch from Martino’s, and after we eat I want to show you some tables and chairs to replace the ones that were broken. Jack and I selected a nice set, but I want to make sure you like them before I set up delivery. I also placed a liquor order with your usual distributor, and the front window is being replaced as we speak. A couple of my men are at the bar overseeing the installation, and I’ve scheduled teams around the clock to keep an eye on the place.”
“That’s great,” my mom said, as Romy grabbed some plates from the cupboard and we gathered around his vintage kitchen table. “But you don’t really think it’s necessary to have people watch the bar, do you? That man you’re feuding with already sent his message, so to speak. Why would he come back?”
“I’m not sure he will, but my people might as well keep an eye on things. They’re all still getting paid during this temporary pause in my business, so why not give them something to do?” Someone knocked on the front door just then, and I stopped unpacking the deli containers and asked my brother, “Are you expecting someone?”
Romy looked guilty as he told me, “Ford said he’d drop by. He heard about the bar and called me to make sure Mom was okay.”
I frowned at that and called after him as he went to answer the door, “Why would my ex call you and not me to ask about Mom?”
My mother answered for him. “Maybe because the last time you spoke to him, you called Ford a stuck up prick.”
“I’ve spoken to him since then and called him worse.”
My mom ignored that and said, “Besides, why wouldn’t he call Romy? You know those two became good friends while you were dating, and just because you broke up with him doesn’t mean we all did.”
“Yes, it does. That’s exactly what it means.” I shot my mom a look and added, “Don’t tell me you’ve been palling around with him, too.”
She shrugged at that and began peeling the lids off the takeout containers I was lining up on the table. “I wouldn’t describe it as palling around, exactly. He comes by the bar once or twice a week to say hello, and last Sunday he took me to brunch, because a new place opened up that we both wanted to try.”
I muttered, “Fuck my life,” under my breath as Ford breezed into the kitchen. He looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht in his pink polo shirt, white pants, and expensive sunglasses, which he moved to the top of his bleached blond head.