“To our night out,” I said.
She smiled, met my toast, and sipped her drink. “This place isn’t so bad.”
“You got a lot of spots like this back home?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t come to fancy places like this. I’m more of a dive bar girl myself.”
“Funny, I’m the same way. South Philly is filled with little holes in the wall, bars that have been there for generations. Some real cheap, trashy places, but you can get good and drunk and see the boys from the neighborhood there, so it’s not so bad.”
“Philly’s a weird place. It seems so small, you know?”
“It’s old. Not built in an ideal spot. Didn’t sprawl out like the newer cities. Chicago’s kind of that way too.”
“I guess that’s true. I like it though. It’s got character.”
“That’s what I think. Philly’s got everything you could want, and it’s cheaper than most other cities, plus it’s a lot smaller, so you can get around way easier.”
“If you’re trying to get me to move here permanently, I think I’m sold.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure you’d want that. I bet Vincent would make me your full-time bodyguard.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling and drinking, and that was my goal.
I asked her more about her life, and was careful not to mention the scars, since I’d quickly figured out that they were a dangerous topic. She talked about her dad, growing up in a mob family with all those mob guys around, about going to school and getting her own job, all that good stuff.
“I was independent for a second,” she said, staring at her wine. “But then the accident happened and I came out here.”
I couldn’t help myself. “The accident?”
Her eyes flashed up to mine then back down. “Not important.” Her jaw clenched, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Fucking hell. “You know, all you mob guys are the same. All you care about is making money, and it doesn’t matter if it hurts someone.”
“I’m not mob,” I said softly.
“Yeah, so you’re different then, right?”
I shrugged. “I think so.”
“The first time I saw you, you had blood dripping off your knuckles and you looked like you got in a fight.”
I waved my drink in the air. “Not my normal thing. That was a special job for Vincent.”
“Then you’re just like them. You’ve got a price.” She glared at the bar top and I watched her, trying to figure out where all this anger was coming from. I could make some guesses: father in the business, surrounded by made men, probably had a lot of shit thrown her way.
I wasn’t mad at her for feeling the way she did. Hell, I understood it.
“I’ve got a price, but it’s not what you think,” I said, voice soft so she had to lean in to hear me. “I’m doing this work for Vince because he’s the big guy in town. I want to be left the hell alone by the Leone family, so I figure, I say yes to this stuff, do them some favors, make some money, and hopefully they’ll forget about me. I’d like to be forgettable.”
She gave me an odd look. “I find that hard to believe.”
I shrugged, drank my whiskey. “I didn’t get into this business to get famous, famous thieves go to jail or end up dead.”
“That’s what you are? A thief?”
“That’s my main job.”
“I doubt the benefits are good.”
I leaned closer with a smile. “You’d be surprised, princess.”
She glared at me. “Stop calling me that.”
I shrugged and pressed my shoulders against hers. She didn’t pull away, and we sat there, close to each other for a long moment before I had an idea.
“How about I show you what I do?” I said.
“What, are you going to rob the place? Please, don’t.”
“No, but I’ll pickpocket someone.”
She laughed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’ll give back whatever I take. You ever see it before?”
“No, and I don’t want to.”
I slid off my stool. “It’s all about misdirection. Sort of like magic that way, you know? You make them look at something, so they don’t feel it when you grab their wallet.”
“Ren,” she said, eyes wide.
But I was already walking away. I had my mark spotted and lined up. I couldn’t help myself— it was automatic for me these days. Whenever I went into a crowded place, I was always sizing the talent up, trying to find at least one or two big fish in the place, guys that were too drunk, or too loud, or too whatever to notice me stealing from them. It was always a gamble, and I’d been caught once or twice, but it was a goddamn rush. I didn’t pickpocket for the money, although a couple times I came up with some solid cash.
No, I did it because it felt damn good, and I got the sense Amber would think so too.