Possessive Boss

I need to think first.

I know I’m going to do the right thing. I’m going to look into my partner and best friend, even if I don’t like what I might find. I’m going to help the feds, even if that goes against everything I believe.

But I don’t know where to start. I’ve been his friend for so long and yet I feel like I don’t know him at all. I’m starting to look back at previous moments with him, at things I shrugged off at the time or just ignored completely, and it’s starting to look strange.

The money thing, for example. How does his father make so much money just from being a lawyer? But beyond that, there are the vacations to private islands, the invitations to important events, the power and influence and connection. None of that makes sense for just a small-time lawyer. Even a successful lawyer doesn’t get nearly so many accolades or attention.

I can’t understand it. Every time I try, I keep coming back to my friendship with him, back to the simple everyday moments that I shared with him over the years. I can’t see him as some gangster’s son trying to keep his connection to the mob. I just see him as a friend.

Frustrated, I turn to the one person that I think might know something, and that I can be reasonably sure won’t speak of our conversation. I pick up the phone and dial the number, waiting as it finally connected.

“Lofthouse Manor.”

“Hi, Archie,” I say. “It’s Jacob.”

“Well, hello, Jacob. It’s nice to hear from you.”

“Is my mother busy?”

“I don’t believe so.” He hesitates. “She’s in her tower.”

“Of course she is.” I take a deep breath. “Tell her it’s important.”

“Right. Hold, please.”

The line clicks onto hold and I wait. It takes nearly ten minutes for it to click again, and I hear my mother’s voice on the line.

“Jacob?”

“Hello, Mother.”

“You know, poor Archie. He’s all flustered from having to walk up those stairs.”

“More like terrified of having to interrupt your painting.”

“Yes. Well.” I can practically hear the smile. “That as well.”

“I need to talk to you about something delicate.”

“Is everything okay? You know we can’t afford another scandal, dear, not right now. Not so soon after your older brother.”

“No, Mother. It’s not like that.” I close my eyes. I already regret this fucking call. But if someone knows anything about Darin and his family, it’s going to be Sylvia Lofthouse. “Please. I need to speak with you regarding Darin Ficino.”

She hesitates. “Your partner?” She laughs slightly. “That’s something of an odd request.”

“I know.” I clench my jaw.

“He’s always been an odd one. I told you years ago not to get involved with that boy, didn’t I?”

I laugh a little. “Of course you did. He didn’t have a name.” Which is a nicer way of saying that his family wasn’t good enough for my friendship.

“Yes, well.”

“Mother, what else do you know about him?”

Another hesitation. “Why are you asking?”

“Mother, please. I don’t want to get into that.”

“It’s an odd question, Jacob. You calling out of the blue and asking about your partner like this. Did something happen?”

“No. Not really. I’m only thinking.”

“Thinking. That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

“Mother.”

“Fine. I can give you rumors, but nothing more.”

“That’ll have to do.”

“Allegedly, his family came by their money through illicit means. Perhaps his father, or maybe his grandfather, I’ve never gotten the story straight.”

I feel my world starting to spin. “Really?”

“Oh, dear, I know you like the boy, and he seems to be doing well for himself with your company. He is a charmer, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I say.

“As far as I know, he’s not involved with any of that. But there are always rumors.”

“The mafia.”

She laughs. “Yes, the mafia. Oh, the boogeymen. I don’t know, it always seemed a little… absurd. Rich Italians must be a part of the mafia.”

“What if it’s true?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “That’s why you called.”

“I’m not sure.”

“You think it’s true.”

“Mother.”

“What’s going on, Jacob?” Her voice gets sharper, whip-tight. “If something’s happening, I need to know it.”

“Why? Because it might reflect bad on the family?”

“Yes,” she says.

“It won’t. Someone is… investigating Darin. I was approached.”

“Approached by whom?”

“The SEC.”

She barks a laugh. “You’re joking?”

“They think he might be involved with organized crime and using FLFM to launder their money.”

“Oh, Jacob.” She sounds more disappointed than angry. “Did you know?”

“I don’t even know if it’s true yet. I don’t know if he’s guilty.”

“Tell me now. Are you clean?”

I don’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Fine. Then cooperate with the feds. I’ll make some calls and see what I can find out about this investigation.”

“No, Mother—”

“I know people in the department. Or perhaps some people adjacent to it that may be able to help. We could make this go away, if—”

“I don’t want it to go away,” I say, my voice hard. “I’m handling it.”