Page 69 of Bronx

“I’ll use my own connects outside of the family.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely.

“You never need to thank me for helping you, little brother. It’s what family does for each other. Sooner or later, you’re going to remember that and come back to us.”

As my apartment slowly becomes enveloped by the smell of warm chocolate, I take a look at the vintage Rolex watch on my wrist. I got caught up with my call with Knox and just realized that Karma has been out for an unusually long walk. She isn’t back yet.

I get up and decide to check on the cake. Growing up, I watched my Mom bake a few things and I at least know that I should stick a toothpick in the middle of it to make sure that it comes out clean. That’s how I’ll know that it’s done.

I stick the wooden pick in the middle of the bundt cake and it comes out clean, so I turn off the oven. It looks a little dark at the top, but I chock that up to it being the color of a chocolate cake.

Using my oven mitt that Francisca picked up for me a few months ago, I pull the cake out of the oven. It smells heavenly.

And almost as good as Karma.

I sit it on top of the stove to cool, although I really want to cut myself a huge chunk of it.

Where is she?

I grab my phone and give hers a call, but it goes straight to voicemail. I know that she tends to leave her phone on the do not disturb setting when she’s avoiding that jackass ex of hers. I wonder if he’s called her tonight? I wonder if my beat down was enough to get him to finally leave her alone. I’m wondering a lot of shit that isn’t going to get settled by me sitting on my ass all night.

I grab a clean shirt and head to the coffee shop on the other side of the complex. This is a commercial area and the stores cater to workday hours, so it’s the only store that is still open at this time of day.

“Hi, what can I get you?” a twenty-something man in a white apron, cleaning off the bistro tables, asks.

“Has a young woman with dark hair and a black eye come in here in the last hour? She’d be wearing a white shirt and a long skirt.”

“Oh, the pretty girl.”

“Yeah, her,” I say with annoyance.

“She was here for about twenty minutes, ordered a second latte, but then changed her mind and ran out of here like a bat out of hell to the bus stop.”

“The bus stop?”

“Yeah, the L bus.”

“Where does that bus go?”

“Lots of stops.”

“I’m asking about landmarks.”

“Hmm, there’s a middle school on that line.”

“What else?” I’m getting impatient, wondering if she’s decided to go back to Ruby’s after what happened in the kitchen between us.

“Oh, there’s the hospital too. Maybe she’s getting that eye looked at,” he says suspiciously.

“What hospital?” I ask, already fearing the answer.

“The only one still open after all the big mergers, Valley Hill Hospital.”

“Is that in the Mt. Airy area?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Thanks, man.”