pull in a long inhale, staring at the stick as I blow out a cloud of fumes. I need to fucking quit. I can hear Pops in my head warning me. Threatening me with my life. “Watch him while he’s here. We’ll head back to Miami when Adams does. We have the shipment coming in next week to the boatyard. We need to be ready.”
Brad nods, twiddling with his cigarette between his fingers.
“Spit it out,” I prompt, hearing his mind racing.
“It’s been over a week, Danny,” he says tentatively. “The priest is asking about the funeral arrangements.”
The priest. A man of God. A man who is an advocate of the seven commandments. We’re sinners. Not saints. My father wasn’t religious. Part of me wonders if his wishes are a sick goodbye joke. And another part of me wonders if the money he’s churned into the church over the years was his way of gaining absolution for his sins.
“Everything my father wants is listed in his last will and testament. I’ll send it to Father McMahon.”
Brad nods and stubs out his half-smoked cigarette. “Get some sleep, Danny. You look like shit.”
Sleep. What’s that? I haven’t slept properly for six months, passing the night hours watching over my father. He’s not here to watch over anymore. But I’m still not sleeping. I growl under my breath, frustrated by the pang of hurt in my dead heart. That damn man is the only person who can make me feel anything in the muscle that keeps me alive. It beats. Steadily. Always has. But it doesn’t feel.
My thoughts drift back to her. It didn’t beat so steadily when I had her against the wall.
I sink deeper into the chair, bringing the cigarette to my mouth and watching the end burn away as I pull a long drag. The glow of amber feels like the only color in my fucked-up black world. And on that thought comes another. Her red dress. Against that olive skin of hers, it looked like the most perfect color combination I’ve ever seen. Her dark hair is almost alive with shine. Her lips like rosebuds. Her cheekbones high. But her eyes? Those dark blue eyes were dead. Her reaction to Perry’s man grabbing her sealed it. If I was any good at cards, she might have put me off my game. It’s true what I told her. I’ve known someone like her before.
Me.
Taking her phone from my pocket, I hit the screen. No picture. No photo. Just the standard factory setting screen saver. Who doesn’t have a picture saved as their home screen? Everyone has someone—their kid, their lover, their mother. Everyone except her.
And me.
The screen prompts me for a code. I need to get one of the men to unlock it. Flicking my cigarette butt off the balcony, I stand, sliding the phone into my pocket, but it chimes, stopping me. I lift it back out. A text. From “Mom.”
* * *
How are you, darling?
* * *
I swipe left and get the option to reply or clear. So I reply.
* * *
Good. You?
* * *
I keep it simple, and I don’t add a kiss, since her mother hasn’t. The response is quick.
* * *
Good. Call me when you can.
* * *
“She will,” I say to myself as I slide it back into my pocket and head into the penthouse. When I make it through the lounge area to the bedroom, the woman isn’t where I left her. I’m not concerned; she’d have to be Houdini to escape this suite. I follow my feet to the bathroom, hearing the tap running. I don’t knock, striding straight in.
Her eyes flick up to the mirror where she’s standing, her hands halfway through securing her long hair into a ponytail. Her position exposes the tanned flesh of her neck. My eyes root there.
“Some privacy, please,” she says, turning to face me. She’s taken off her heels, exposing red toenails that match her dress. Why I’m noticing this trivial shit is beyond me.
I ignore her and walk to the toilet, unzipping my trousers as I go. I pull out my cock slowly. I see her gaze drop to my groin. I hear her breath skip.
And I piss, one palm resting on the wall behind the toilet, the other holding my dick. I take my time, casual, aware that I’m being studied. And when I’m done, I wipe, flush, and turn to face her, still holding my cock, her gaze stuck there. I can hear