Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I say, feeling a bit lost. This conversation was anticlimactic. I expected Marlena to cry or to wring her hands in worry, not simply brush it off like another task she must perform before childbirth. She has a lot on her mind and Brandon is only one of those things. But I did my part. “Are you okay?” I ask, hesitant to leave her without assuring myself that she can deal with the news.
“I’m fine,” she says quietly. “It’s sad. I promise I’ll talk to him.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I offer.
“You didn’t,” she assures me.
I give her a hug. “You’re a lot stronger than I give you credit for.”
She pulls back, giving my shoulder a playful pinch. “You better remember that.”
“I will,” I promise.
Out in the hall, I signal to the designer that she can go back in. I’m feeling a little bit better, but only marginally. I’m glad that one of us has their head on straight. If only Sofia was more like Marlena, then everything could be solved with a simple conversation. But of course, Sofia left, taking with her any hope I might’ve had of reconnecting.
I groan in frustration for even having that thought. Sofia is gone. Brandon is messed up, but at least he has Marlena. I’m sure she can straighten him out better than I can. In the meantime, I have tons of work to do and an exam to study for.
I go downstairs to grab myself a sandwich before heading out with Edoardo. We’re supposed to meet with some pretty gruff characters today. Edoardo hasn’t told me much about them, but enough to know that he’s nervous about the meeting.
I’m starting to get the hang of my father’s operation. It doesn’t seem to matter how difficult something is, when the boss says, ‘Do it,’ you do it. So, I’m off to accompany the head of security while we deal with an unpleasant issue. In that light, Marlena’s reaction to her brother’s addiction seems par for the course. She and my father are more alike than I thought. They both have a quiet strength of character that allows them to move mountains in their own time.
“Ready to go?” Edoardo asks, swinging into the kitchen from the back porch. He smells like cigarettes, so I guess he’s been smoking outside. Marlena hates that. I’ll have to makes sure he does that far away from the house where she can’t smell, she already has enough with worrying about Brandon.
“Yeah,” I agree, following him through the house and out the front door.
He’s not nearly as conversational as Gio, but I’ve grown accustomed to him. We drive in silence until we’re nearly there, when Edoardo starts to fill me in on the job.
“I just want you to stand there, and not say anything,” he requests.
“Got it,” I respond.
There’s a certain dance that we must perform each time we apply pressure on someone. It involves one or two people looking menacing and staying mute, while the other person asks the questions. My job this time will be to imply that I’m there to kill someone, without saying anything. I’ve done it at least half a dozen times before and so I feel prepared.
“Who’s this guy we’re leaning on?” I ask.
“Freddy Diaz,” Edoardo says. “We think he’s been skimming money off the top.”
“Do we have any proof?” I wonder.
“We have all the proof we need,” Edoardo confirms.
I’ll take that as gospel, considering it comes straight from my father. There are a lot of ‘need to know’ situations that I’m being thrust in the middle of. I learned long ago to trust my father’s instincts, and this is no different.
We barge into Freddy’s apartment uninvited. There’s a woman cooking soup in the kitchen who screams and tries to run. Freddy is sitting on the couch, watching a soccer game. He tries to get up, but Edoardo pins him down.
I branch off to deal with the screaming woman. She tries to throw the boiling soup at me, but I duck. The soup hits the wall and splashes around, oozing its way to the floor. It barely touched me, much less hurt. I put one hand out, asking her to remain calm.
She looks at the doorway, as if trying to judge whether she can make it in time. I shake my head and pull out a chair for her to sit down. Reluctantly, she sits, and I leave her to join Edoardo in the living room.
My father’s chief of security patiently explains the problem to Freddy. We’re all aware of the heightened stress level in the room. I’m not prepared to do anything to harm anyone, but Freddy and his wife or girlfriend don’t know that. They think we’re all seasoned professionals who won’t hesitate to end their lives. That’s the key to the performance we’re enacting, and I play my part just like I’m supposed to.