Page 36

After work I driveto a little diner that’s just off the main highway. I know it’s completely trash food, but I’m starving. Something about being teased by Ian made me hungry. He didn’t get me off, which was pretty much the worst thing ever, but now my horniness has morphed into hunger. I slide into the last booth in the restaurant, order a black coffee and a cheeseburger, and wait silently for my food.

I don’t even play on my phone while I’m waiting. Instead, I just sort of stare out the window. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Not only did I lie to a coworker who probably-definitely works for my dad, but I also promised Ian I’d do something terrible. It’s definitely illegal to steal a phone. Definitely. And I know that whatever Ian is planning to do with that phone is also going to be illegal.

I don’t care what he’s going to do.

Perhaps this is the most shocking revelation to me. I don’t care. I don’t care if Ian uses the phone to place Lorenzo at the scene of some crime and I don’t care if he uses it to get information about my dad or any other crime boss. I just can’t find it within myself to give a shit.

Thisscaresme.

I’ve never just...notcared.

There’s always been a little part of myself that tried to do the right thing even when it was hard, but right now, I feel like I’ve all but given up. Maybe it’s my dad’s strange relationship with Patricia – who is married, apparently. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m learning about some of the secrets my father has kept from me.

Or maybe...just maybe...maybe it’s because Ian kidnapped, fucked the hell out of me, and dropped me back off at my father’s party.

Yeah, maybe that experience has fucked with my head a little bit.

I finish my burger, pay, and then proceed to sit in the booth for another ten minutes. It’s raining now, which it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be raining on a day like today. I feelsadand uncomfortable. I feel apathetic, too. All of these different emotions wrap around me, swirling around my consciousness like a hug.

Still, I manage to pry myself from the warmth of the diner, load myself into the car, and start the engine. It’s time. I need to get home. I need to paste a smile on my face and pretend to talk with my dad about my day. He’s going to be home tonight and he’s going to want to know how my job went. Of course, I’m sure that Lorenzo has already filled him in. Either Lorenzo or Robert will have ratted me out – including my brief disappearance.

So, what will my lie be?

Will I tell my dad that Ian kidnapped me and I blew him until he came in my mouth?

Or will I tell him I was out smoking?

Maybe I’ll say something really stupid. Maybe I could make up a story about how a potential adoptive family for one of the animals needed my assistance. That could happen, right? Like maybe someone needed me to help them change a tire or...

Who the fuck am I kidding?

I manage to space out the entire drive home. When I pull up to the gate, the guard in the shack motions for me to roll my window down. It’s a new guy – one of my dad’s new hires. He doesn’t have everyone memorized yet. It’s his job to check who comes and goes.

“ID?” The guard holds out his hand in the rain, asking to see my fucking ID card. I laugh and shake my head. This hasgotto be a fucking job.

“Nice try, asshole. Let me in.”

There’s no way they didn’t tell him Marco Amato has a daughter. There’s just no way. He glares at me, though, and I see him reach for his sidepiece. He places his hand on the gun and stares at me.

“ID.” It’s a statement this time: not a question. He’s not going to let me in without some sort of ID. Unfortunately for him, I’m not in the mood.

“I’m going to give you one more chance,” I say. “If you want to keep your job, just let me in.” I’m not really going to do anything to get this fucker fired, but he’s in for a rude awakening if he thinks he’s going to ask any of my dad’s friends for ID. The reason there was even a guard positionopenis because the last one was shot for asking the wrong person to identify themselves.

It’s a high paying job, though. A lot of people like the idea of making a fast, easy buck. Unfortunately, the job isn’t easy. If it was, it wouldn’t pay as well as it does.

“Miss,” he lowers his voice. “Just show me your ID card. Then I’ll let you in.”

He’s young. He can’t be older than I am. Then again, that doesn’t mean much in my world. Lots of mob underlings are working for their dads and uncles from the time they’re teenagers. How this guy started working for dear old daddy, though, I have no idea.

For some reason, I decide to take pity on him. Both of my hands are on the steering wheel. I don’t move them, but I grip the wheel a little bit tighter.

“Listen,” I tell him. “I’m your boss’ kid. I live here. If I show you ID, my dad is going to lose his fucking shit, and if he finds out youaskedme for ID, he’s going to lose his shit even more. Want to know where those red stains came from?” I use my nose to point to the spot behind him on the wall of the guard shack. Despite the fact that the walls have been cleaned, bleached, and repainted, there’s still evidence of the last man who was killed lingering here in the shack.

He looks behind himself. Mistake number one. You never take your eyes off a visitor. Shit. Maybe I should be the one working the shack. When he turns back around, though, he glares at me even harder. His eyes narrow.

Mistake number two.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you for ID.”