Page 9

“Yeah, maybe. But I loved your mother. I know what that feels like. You? You got a big fucking void forming under that suit of armor you like to polish.” He punches my ribs, and I slap him away. “Listen.”

“I’ve been listening—”

“Yo.” He holds his finger up. “I’m serious. I’m going to say a few things, and you’re going to listen.”

I scoff. My eyes burn from no sleep, arms too big to carry with no food in ’em, and my dad is trying to get sentimental after a tequila hangover? No thank you.

“I know we don’t talk about it, ’cause we’re men, but you know the truth – I’m dying, kid. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but the scythe is coming.”

My lips curve in. Here we go with the morbid shit at eleven a.m. on a Saturday.

“Before I go, I want to see you experience the other side a bit. You can’t live in darkness your whole life. It ain’t good for you.”

“You fucking groomed me to be the best.” I throw out my arms. “I’m the fucking best. Leave it alone.”

He snaps his tongue. “You’re going to do this thing for me.”

“Whatthing? You already got me tanning, sheesh. Waste of my damn time…”

“It’s my dying wish. And I promise I won’t ask anything else of you. That list can fuck off for all I care. Hear?” He leans and sprinkles some ash on my leg so I sit up.

“Yo!I hear you. What—”

The door clicks open, and that lawyer starts waddling toward us.Damn. Someone on the Lucrazi side beat him up good. He nods at my father, who smiles wide in return.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m considering your offer. At least let me meet the man.”

I stand up and whip my shirt away from my father, eyeing him, then pull it back on. “What’s going on here, gentlemen?” My tone is curt.

“Rocco Dotelli.” He extends his hand. “I knew you as a boy, but now I’d like to shake your hand as a man.”

It’s strange how fearlessly he walks up to me. Like he’s got a bone to pick or something. Whatever. If my father owes him, I’ll keep it cordial, for now.

“Tristano. Friends call me Trino.”

“And what do you do with your time, Trino?” His grip tightens before he lets go, and I can hardly believe it. I almost respect the little bastard. Five-foot-eight, tops, against my six-two of iron?

“The man asked you a question.” My father cackles.

“I have a few businesses,” I say. It’s true. I do. Just not all of them are legit.

“Doing?”

I look to my father with an arced eyebrow, but he just nods for me to keep going.

“Should I pay you a dollar first, like in Breaking Bad?” I say.

“I’m not kidding around.” Rocco’s frown deepens. “If you’re going to be with my daughter—”

“Excuse me?”I interrupt him, stifling a laugh. This guy is hilariously confusing.

Click.

The door opens and shuts,again– damn thing’s a merry-go-round, I swear. This feels like a fucking play. C’mon, Shakespeare, who’s next?

My heart pulses once in my ears when I see a five-foot-five figure with long,beautifullegs walk out from the shade. As soon as the sun hits, her black hair glimmers, big blue eyes like glass pearls. She’s daytimehot.

“Dad, did I not just say to give me a minute?” Her walk turns into a jog – flip-flops clapping against the stone. “Here you are embarrassing me already.” She puts her hand over her brow and squints to look up at me. “Hi. You must be Tristano. I’m Capri.”