Page 16 of Bronx

***

I’m exhausted after a full day’s work and a belly full of chicken parmesan and penne pasta. Ruby’s wife calls her and asks her to make a stop at the local Walmart to pick up a couple of items before we come home. Big box stores like Walmart and Target are my kryptonite and I hate being inside one when I don’t have any money to spend, so I tell her that I’ll wait in the car.

I read the text exchange between Ray and I over and over again, wondering if I could have said something in a different way. I know I probably shouldn’t obsess over this, but I can’t help it. And the words increase their bitter power over me every time I read them.

This isn’t over, bitch.

This isn’t over, bitch.

This isn’t over, bitch.

I scroll through my phone’s contact list and find Bronx Masterson’s cell number again. He said he’d call me back, but he hasn’t, so while it’s obvious that he wants nothing to do with me or my problems, I can’t let this go. I don’t want anyone I know to be impacted by my poor decisions of allowing someone like Ray into my life. I have to handle this, so I text Bronx again, and I’m stern this time.

Me: You owe my brother a favor. Call me back.

I see the three dots start to pulse in the message box, letting me know that at least he sees my text and is starting to respond.

Then the dots disappear.

Then reappear.

Clearly, he’s thinking about what he wants to say in response. God, I hope he’s not as much of an asshole as I think he might just be. So far, he seems like a jerk.

The dots disappear again, and my hopes sink. I don’t know much about why this man owes my brother a favor, but it’s the only thing I’ve got that I can use as leverage. Lev was so sure that this guy would honor it if the need ever arose and my brother rarely makes promises that he can’t keep.

Suddenly, my phone rings and I smile.

It’s him.

“Hello?”

“I don’t owe your brother a favor,” he starts the conversation off, sounding pissed.

“But he said that if I ever need any help that you’d–“

“What kind of help?” he asks, cutting me completely off.

“He’s missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes, I haven’t heard from him in two months.”

“Did you go to the police?”

Absolutely not, I think to myself. If there is one thing Lev made clear was that if anything were to ever happen to him, that because of his job I shouldn’t seek the help of local authorities.

“I need this search done without the use of the police.”

“Is that right?” He sounds almost amused by my words. I guess it is odd that I don’t want to ask the police for help in a possible missing person’s case, but I’m sure Lev has his reasons.

“Yes.”

“He taught you to say that?”

“No,” I lie.

“Do you know who your brother is? What he’s done?”