Page 66 of Bronx

I pick up my cell and scroll through my “family” list of contacts. I’m not calling Seven for obvious reasons, so who is the least likely member of my family to get on my nerves? I make my decision and press the call button.

“This is Knox speaking.”

“You answer the phone so weird.”

“Bronx?”

As if he can’t tell it’s me by the uniquely damaged voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, big brother.”

“This is a surprise.”

“I need a little help.”

“You cut right to the chase, don’t you? No pleasantries or anything.”

“Pleasantries aren’t my thing.”

“I haven’t laid eyes on you in at least, what, six months?”

“Been working.”

“Still bounty hunting?”

“Select cases, yeah.”

“Uh huh, well, you could at least ask about my woman. You’ve known Gigi your whole life. Do you even give a shit if she’s good or not?”

My brother married a girl I crushed on my entire adolescence. She is the daughter of one of my father’s best friends. A best friend we’ve grown up calling Uncle Camden even though we’re not related by blood.

When Knox and Gigi first got together, I thought I heard wrong, then I thought it was hysterical. If there were two people who grew up despising each other, it was those two. But once I realized how serious it was getting, I became annoyed. While I love my brother and want him to be happy and all that good shit, I quietly wished it didn’t have to be with Gigi. She was our Gigi, not just his. We all tortured her high school boyfriends, we all played jokes on her, we all loved her.

I guess you can describe my past feelings as ones of boyhood jealousy, but now I think they’re feelings of envy. Not because I want Gigi for myself, but because every guy hopes for the kind of connection that Knox and Gigi have, and I know it’s not in the cards for me.

I’m too messed up.

“If Gigi weren’t good, you wouldn’t be on the phone with me now. You’d be raising all kinds of hell.”

“True,” he chuckles. “Very true. So what can I do you for, baby brother? What’s up?”

“You’ve been working closely with Dad lately, right?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“I need some help with tracking down a person.”

“Who?”

“A woman I met is looking for her brother. He’s missing.”

“And why are you helping her?”

I make the split second decision to tell him because it’ll be easier than lying. I’ve already told Seven. I might as well tell Knox too.

“Because… because she’s the sister of the guy who sliced my throat.”

There’s a pregnant pause between us and then suddenly the line goes dead. Now, Knox is calling me via FaceTime video.