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Nope. I’m picking us up some dinner. Do you want egg drop or wonton soup?
My stomach growls.
That’s perfect because I need to talk to you. Can you get me a small sweet and sour chicken and the sesame chicken with broccoli and white rice?
My phone rings, showing her name at the top of the screen.
“Are you sure you should be eating all of that while recovering from a stomach bug?”
My stomach growls louder. “I’m starving and pretty much over the stomach bug.”
She’s quiet for a minute before saying, “Fine, I will get the food and bring it over, but if you throw it up, it’s on you.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom.” I say with a chuckle.
“I’ll see you in a little bit.” She says before ending the call.
I place the paperwork on the coffee table and turn on the television, stopping when I get to the local news channel. A helicopter is flying over the interstate where a car is on fire.
Firefighters battle the fire as large clouds of black smoke fill the air.
The cameraman from the helicopter zooms in on the car and my stomach turns.
There’s only one person with that car. One person who had a custom vinyl wrap done on it.
Joseph Marino.
I grab my phone and dial his number. With each passing ring, my heart fills with dread. Did Rossi finally get to him? He did promise retribution, and it’s been fairly quiet since Giuseppe Rossi sent that letter.
Light knocking sounds at my door, but I’m unable to tear my gaze off the television.
The doorknob jiggles for a second before Francesca pushes it open. “Hey, I thought you were going to start locking your door? With you being sick, your reaction time isn’t-”
She stops mid sentence as I turn to glance at her. Tears blur my vision before falling down my cheeks.
“Oh my God. Alexandra, what’s going on?”
“It’s Joseph.” I point to the television.
She kicks the door closed behind her and rushes into the living room to join me. She drops the food onto the coffee table and plops down on the couch.
“What happened?” Her voice is soft as the camera zooms back in on the car.
My voice cracks. “I tried calling Joseph, but he didn’t answer.”
She picks up her phone and dials her brother’s number. When the voicemail picks up, she ends the call and immediately dials again. Once again, the call goes to voicemail.
“Do you think he was rushed to the hospital?” I whisper, not wanting to think about the alternative.
She ends the call and dials Rhett’s number, putting the call on speakerphone.
“Hey, babe. I was just about to come upstairs and see if you wanted to go out for dinner.” His tone is cheery, without an ounce of worry.
She doesn’t greet him, she just asks, “Have you heard from Joey? His car is on the news right now, engulfed in smoke. I’m trying not to freak the fuck out.”
“No, he left the arena almost an hour ago to go to a meeting. He looked like shit, though, like he was in a bar fight last night. Gage, too.”
“He was in a bar fight?”