Let me guess. She thinks I need a good fuck instead.
Maybe she’s right. In the past, sex – a whole night of meaningless fucking with a complete stranger – has helped me take my mind off things, let off steam. It’s been over a week since I last got laid, too. Still, I’m not in the mood. I have a feeling that if I have sex with another woman now, I’ll just end up thinking more of Jodie and getting more frustrated.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “I need a stronger drink.”
I catch the bartender’s attention.
“I’ll have another in a fresh glass. And make it a double this time.”
He nods. “Coming right up.”
The woman beside me places her hand on my thigh as she brings her mouth close to my ear. “I’m pretty sure I could whip up something better for you.”
I move my head away and rub my ear because her breath tickles. “Really? The bartender here is very good, you know.”
“Maybe.” She grins. “But I bet he can’t suck cock as well as I can.”
She licks her lips as she glances at my crotch.
Talk about aggressive. No, desperate. Too bad I’m not.
“No, so how about you go and show him how it’s done? I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Right on time, the bartender gives me my drink. The woman beside me looks at him and he grins.
I pick up my glass. “See?”
The woman snorts. “Well, he’s not my type.”
I look at her. “No? I thought cocks were your type.”
She frowns at me, then sneers. “Fuck you.”
She leaves. I drink.
It’s not like she’s the first woman who’s walked away from me in a foul mood today.
I’m still drinking when my phone rings. I put down my glass to check who’s calling and see the name of my other older half-brother, Vito, on the screen.
What does he want?
I answer the call. “Yeah?”
“Where are you? Orso called for a meeting.”
He did? He’s calling for meetings already?
I glance at my watch. “I’ll be at the house in fifteen minutes.”
~
Apart from the meeting taking place in Orso’s sitting room, the tube still attached to his arm, and the absence of the smell of tobacco in the air, everything seems the same as before. Same key figures of the organization in attendance. Same reports on the black market. Same talk of debts that need collecting, bribes that need paying, goods that need to be acquired and delivered, payloads that need to be kept safe. Boring, really.
Ever since Antonio’s death, my father has been playing it safe. No raids. No robberies. No breaking people out of jail. No fights with other organizations. The one exciting meeting I’ve been to is the one where Orso declared war on the Esposito family, the one I keep going back to in my head. If only that operation had gone well, Antonio would still be alive and things would still be intense and thrilling around here instead of this calm, dull atmosphere that almost reminds me of a classroom during an algebra lesson or a church during the homily. I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from nodding off.
Thankfully, the meeting ends after a few more minutes. I’d love nothing more than to throw myself onto my bed, but I stay. Everyone else goes out the door except for my father and Andrea. Once the three of us are alone, my father speaks first.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” he asks.
I look at him, wondering what gave it away. The fact that I couldn’t sit up straight? The way I struggled to keep my eyes open and focused? Or can he actually smell the alcohol on my breath from four feet away?
“Yes,” I answer. No use denying it.
“So even though I asked you to be more careful, you’ve been out drinking again.”
The weight of disappointment in his voice is clear, but I try not to let it wound me.
“I haven’t just been drinking, Dad,” I tell him. “I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
I stand up and clear my throat. “Since the last time we spoke, I’ve been looking into Bart’s death.”
“Looking into it?” Andrea asks with a look of surprise.
So he didn’t have any suspicions at all. It seems people around here are getting old and rusty just as I’m sliding into my prime. At this rate, I’ll be the godfather soon. Maybe then I’ll be able to restore all the excitement. Cool.
“Get straight to the point,” my father urges impatiently. “What did you find out, boy?”
I hold my chin up and look into his eyes as I make my announcement. “That Bart was murdered.”
It can’t get any straighter than that. Or colder.
Andrea’s eyes grow wide then he lowers his gaze as he kisses the cross hanging from around his neck. My father keeps his eyes on me.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I had his phone records pulled, and Bart received a call just before he died. Also, his car had been tampered with. One of my guys said that some device was planted under his hood. One press of a button at the right time and the brakes would have failed.”