Page 8 of Chicago Sin

“If the don says no retribution…” Marco begins.

“There won’t be retribution,” I finish.

But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. That doesn’t mean I have to forget. I take another swig of beer and shake my head.

“Besides. Grace always took me as a lazy fuck. I can’t see her giving good head.” Marco smirks, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Personally I don't agree with knocking a guy's ex because you're basically insulting his taste in the first place, but whatever.

“Yeah, you definitely need to find yourself someone who can meet your sexual appetite. Because after your drought… you gotta be one ravenous motherfucker,” Leo adds.

I remember when I used to see men come out of prison and think the same thing. Like the worst thing in the world for these ex-convicts was how long they’d have to go without sex. I’m sure I'd think the same thing as Marco and Leo. Sex is the first priority because how could it not be?

But, shit… I’m not even sure how to start. My entire body feels fucking numb. Including my dick.

“The don gave me some bullshit construction job. It’s just for appearances,” I tell them. “I show up and collect a check.”

"Yeah, I heard that," Marco says.

“Not a bad gig.” Leo finishes his beer in one last swig and then motions for Marco to pass him another one.

“It feels as if I’ve been put to pasture,” I admit. “I was in my prime before all this shit. Now, I’m practically retired.”

“Temporarily, right?” Marco asks. "Until parole is over?"

I shrug. “My entire life feels temporary. A big fucking pause button was hit when I got pinched. Now what?”

“You need money?” Leo asks.

"Nah." I shake my head. “The don took care of that. And this job puts me in a good spot. But thanks.”

The last thing I’d do is take money from my cousins. I feel like a burden as it is.

“You did your time. You didn’t snitch. And now you’re back. You’ve earned some retirement life. Enjoy it while you can. I’m sure that once parole is over, the don will have you working full time, earning again.”

“We’ll get your life back in order,” Marco adds. “It will take some time, but you’ll rise from the fucking ashes. I promise.”

Chapter Five

Armando

“Armando.” Rocco pats the barber chair. “Right here, sir.” I disengage from the gathering of Made men who fill the old-time barber shop with cigar smoke while they talk over each other in loud voices.

The walls are a drab off-white and crammed floor to ceiling with framed photographs from the days when the shop was a speakeasy. Wood paneling, a bay window, old fold out chairs and a magazine rack brings me back to a time I cherished. Each man is dressed in a tailored suit and tie, his hair slicked back, mustache and beard perfectly trimmed and groomed.

Rocco’s barbershop is an oasis of the familiar in a world that has become otherwise unfamiliar.

My body’s stiff and jerky as I drop into the seat. Every step I take in my old shoes is like a goddamn out-of-body experience.

Coming to this place is an out-of-body experience.

Everything’s exactly the same, yet it feels so fucking different. I used to love Friday afternoons in this little shop. The pleasure of Rocco’s warm towels wrapped around my face. Feeling like a king while the old man attended to me with the guys all hanging around shooting the shit. I loved hanging with the big boys. So proud I’d made lieutenant and got to play with the heavy hitters. I was on the top of the world then. Top of my game.

I had the girl. The money. And a glorified position in the Outfit.

I felt alive. Powerful. There was so much possibility dancing before me.

Only thing different now is the girl. But I got over Grace the day she called and told me she was moving in with Emilio. So why the fuck can’t I find any pleasure?