DIMA (Filthy Rich Alphas)

“Definitely, a serial killer, Mom. He killed Johnny Cupcakes too. And he’s dressing everyone up.”

“Oh my. I had no idea about those details.”

“The police are keeping it from the public.”

“But I’m not the public. I’m your mother. Have the police files sent to my place tonight. I want to go over—”

“Absolutely not.”

“I just want to—”

“I’m in control. You’re retired. We’ve discussed this, pretty much every damn week since you’ve left the Syndicate.”

“Surely, my wisdom can be of some help.”

“I doubt it.” I knew she was pouting on the other side.

“Are you at least going to the South to pay respect at Romeo’s memorial?”

“Unfortunately, I am heading there now.”

“And you’re dressed in yellow?”

“As much as I can be without losing some sense of style.”

She released an annoyed breath. “Please, tell everyone I said hello. I know I should be there, but the South is always full of loud young people, sweating and being annoying with their smooth skin and nimble bodies. It’s disgusting.”

“I’ll make sure to pass your message.”

“I’m having a separate memorial for Romeo this evening.”

“Who’s invited?”

“The Old Heads as Chanel calls us. Romeo’s mother, Tina. You remember how bad it was when she became a widow. Romeo’s death is worse. I practically moved her in this weekend. Then, there’s Lei’s Aunts—Min and Suzi. They’re a riot. Several more. Oh, Leo said he is on the way and bringing caviar limes as if no one can just pick them off the tree on any block.”

I tried to find a moment to interrupt and get off the phone.

“I’m so tired of this monk life of his. Enough already! Drink some vodka, get your dick sucked, and gamble with me. And it doesn’t have to be in that order. Ha! Maybe he can do it all at once.” She laughed. “Perhaps, I can set up Tina with Leo. Sex is great for mourning.”

“Mom—”

“Tina and Leo. That could work. Did you know the Killer Crows were the ones that nicknamed him Leo in the first place?”

“Yes—”

“They shortened Liang Hao and—”

“Mom.”

“Anyway, setting up Tina and Leo would be nice for the East and West. A romantic merge. Or maybe not. They would be too powerful. Never mind. I’ll find another woman for Leo—”

“Mom, I have to go.”

She sighed. “Are you there?”

“Correct.”

“Can you come by for breakfast in the morning? I would like more details on—”

“I’ll be busy. However, I’ll be there in a few days for Sunday dinner.”

“And if I’m not here by then? What if I’m dead by then?”

I frowned. “You won’t be dead, Mom.”

“I’m not sure. You’ve been dragging your ass on this serial killer situation. He may murder all of us.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“I love you too, darling.”

“Goodnight.” I hung up.

The Phantom passed the South’s downtown.

This part of the Paradise had the most caviar limes in the whole city. The trees were everywhere, along the downtown and scattered throughout the neighborhood.

Various shades of green covered the buildings and most store’s brick walls. Most of the houses were green too. White covered the few homes that weren’t.

Long ago, only Irish immigrants lived in the South. They worked the factories down here, and hadn’t been accepted by the Americans living in the city before them. So on their off days, a few stubborn Southies wore the colors of the Irish flag—green, white, and orange—to show pride in their Irish nationalism.

Throughout the years, the Irish began to take over and green became the appropriate color.

It was close to nine in the evening, yet people of all ages and races packed the streets and waited for the huge green buses rolling along. Almost every Southie wore green, regardless or not of if they were part of Marcelo’s crew—Rowe Street Mob.

Here, Marcelo was not just the Champ or Paradise Playboy. Here, he was King of the South. During the week of Thanksgiving, he handed out huge turkeys, hams, and grocery bags for sides in the South’s downtown. For Christmas, every girl and boy received four wrapped presents with his name on it. Fall brought Marcelo’s Rowe Street School drive where they delivered school supplies to poor parents in the neighborhood. For winter, no southern house paid electricity. His crew handled it. In the summer and fall, he hosted huge carnivals that were only free to anyone from the South. Everyone else had to pay.

If I did half of those things in the North, Lei and Romeo would complain.

Granted, Romeo would always have Marcelo’s back, explaining that the South was full of the poor and underrepresented.

The Phantom pulled up to Shamrock—Marcelo’s top nightclub. It was also where he kept his office.

Viktor put up his game. “I’m almost on level twelve.”

“What’s the highest?”

“Thirteen.” Viktor opened the car and held it for me. “Once I finish, I unlock a mega gun that will be in the game’s sequel.”

“I still don’t get games.”