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Chapter Eleven
Bowie
Valentine’s Day had come and gone, and aside from a single, long-stemmed rose delivered to my front door minutes after I’d arrived home from work on Thursday, I’d had no other news from Mickey.
Until early this morning.
Threedays later.
Starting at six o’clock, my boyfriend has been blowing up my phone with apologies, heart eyes memes, and promises that it was the extreme stress that forced him to lay his hand on me in a violent way.
I’ve ignored every single message these last three hours, mainly because it’s my day off and I don’t feel like having a conversation about this until I’ve got at least three cups of coffee in me.Ping.
Fuck, he needs to stop with this. It was cute when we were eighteen and discovering the delights of no longer living under the scrutiny of others, but this is too much.
I’m not impressed, I’m annoyed. I’m also half asleep and grumpy as fuck.
Me: Stop texting me, I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.
Big Bro: Come on, I’ve got an entire day planned for us for Valentine’s Day.
I’d put the Big Bro name in my phone just in case there was an emergency call from him and the guys accidentally saw it. No one is safe from caller ID mishaps at inopportune times
Me: OMG fine. Just stop with the texts.
Big Bro: Love you.
I hover over the keys as I lie on my bed propped up by two pillows, and the comforter covers me all the way up to my chin. There’s a tiny air leak from the window closest to the kitchen, making it difficult to keep the place heated the way I like it.
When we chose this apartment, I knew I’d have to downgrade from our Upper West Side condo just a couple of blocks from Central Park. Any employer worth his salary would find the inconsistencies with my address and ask personal questions that we didn’t want to answer.
I do miss my central heating, though, that’s for damn sure.
I don’t know why I hesitate in responding until I bring two fingers to my cheek and lightly tap on the healing cut and tender flesh. He did that. I just can’t believe he raised his hand to me. It’s so unlike him. So completely out of character.
Does he have a temper? Sure, who doesn’t, right? But to actually backhand me? That’s new, and I don’t like it one bit.
Still, we’ve been through so much from such a young age. Growing up in foster care is different than anything else. Our sense of belonging is skewed, our family ties are loose and fragile. It’s not surprising that the slightest show of love becomes an anchor of emotional survival. Maybe I also owe it to him to give him the benefit of the doubt. Clearly, he’s trying to make up for his mistake. Colossal as it was.
Me: What time do you need us to meet?
I guess he’s getting a second chance, then. Even as I tap out the question, my gut isn’t feeling it but my heart can’t help but want to forgive him. He’s the only family I have. Without him, I’m completely alone and that scares the crap out of me.
Big Bro: One hour.
So much for sleeping in.
It doesn’t take me long to get up, take a shower, and dress in warm, comfortable clothes. Wearing heels all week at work is grueling but I won’t deny they make my legs look fantastic. It’s all part of my evil plan to break my bosses’ defenses.
Just as I apply some clear gloss on my mauve lipstick, my phone chimes with yet another text. I don’t bother looking further than the notification since it’s clear Mickey just sent me a pin for our meeting point.
To be honest, I’m not thrilled about going today. It’s not just the fact that I’m still angry about what he did the other night, which in and of itself was unforgivable. The truth is, as much as we’d like to think Manhattan is a huge place, the reality is that people orbit in the same circles. The chances of us bumping into the guys are slim but never zero. It’s that fine line that makes my stomach roll at the thought.
This job we’re doing has the potential of a huge payout, setting us up for life. The fact my marks are the trifecta when it comes to the female fantasy is just the cherry on top of this very enticing cake.
Grabbing my coat, I do a quick last check in the mirror before pulling my beanie on and fixing the two braids so they fall over my chest. Maybe dressed like this, if we do cross the twins and Orion, they won’t recognize me. On the plus side, the sun is out so I can even put my black sunglasses on.
According to Mickey’s text message, our day begins in Central Park, at the Bethesda fountain. Even though it’s turned off in the winter, it’s still quite popular with the tourists, and whenI arrive, just over thirty minutes later, I’m not surprised to see hordes of people milling about. It’s cold as fuck outside, barely in the forties, but the sun has an unobstructed view of the city with its bright blue skies above us.