case that includes a private phone line, lunch and dinner brought in from Serafina’s, his favorite Sicilian restaurant, and his Civil War library on a shelf in his cell.
“Pop? It’s me.”
There’s a moment of silence and I wonder if we’ve been disconnected, but then he says, “Where are you?”
“On my way to the party. I need to know who else is invited.” Translation: I’m coming and I need to know who to take down.
Yes, he has a private line. And yes, there’s every probability the Feds are listening in. Everything is in code, not that they’re so stupid they can’t figure out what we’re saying. But it’s harder to enter into evidence this way.
“Where are your dance partners?” Translation: Where are the kids?
“They were tired. Stayed home.” I take a deep breath. “Listen, Pop, I’m almost there. Should I bring tiger lilies, or daisies?” Translation: Am I looking for Delgados (tiger lilies—Mom’s favorite) or Savocas (who we like best when they’re pushing up daisies)?
“What the hell do you think, Rob?” he roars. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Use all those fucking brains you got from your mother and figure it out.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, because I have to.
“You’re implying I don’t have my finger on the pulse?” His tone is softer now, more deadly. “That’s the respect you have for your old man? Chop the head off the snake and everything will fall into place. My son would know that without me having to say it.”
So much for code.
“Yes, Pop,” I answer, because that was a directive. Oliver Savoca is going down. “You got any dance partners you can send my way?”
He barks a laugh, then there’s a click. He’s gone.
End of our touching family reunion.
I lower the phone, take a deep breath. There’s no one I can trust. Even he knows it.
Blood pounds in my ears over the bad bar music. I hang my head as my whole world swirls down the toilet like a giant turd. “Fuck!” I say again, pounding my fist through the wall.
“Hey,” someone says. I look up to see the brunette at the opening to the hallway. “Everything okay?”
No. Everything is totally fucked.
She saunters up the hall toward me and hooks a finger into one of my belt loops, pulling me toward her. “I can think of a better way to relieve stress.”
I grab her ass and yank her toward me, but when I seal my mouth over hers, I realize I need to be a whole lot drunker before I do this. Three rounds later, she hasn’t stopped talking about her shitty job and pregnant sister, and I’m regretting my decision to let her stay.
I knock back the last of my drink and rub my fingers at the waitress, who nods and goes to the register. “I’ve got to hit the road.”
The brunette’s hand slips between my legs and finds my package, flaccid now from all her jabbering. “You got a car in the lot, big boy?” she slurs.
“You need a ride somewhere?”
She leans in, pressing a whole lotta silicone up against my arm, and whispers in a cloud of alcohol, “I’ll ride you anytime.”
I pay the check and stand, striding for the door, not really caring one way of the other if she follows. She does, and when we get to my car, she’s got my fly down before I even have the door closed.
“Holy shit,” she groans appreciatively.
I adjust the seat back and let my knees fall open, giving her all the room she needs to do what she’s doing with her hands. I’m zoning out, but my fuzzy thoughts come to a sharp focus on my dick a minute later when she goes down on me.
I drop my head back into the headrest and forget everything except what’s happening between my legs. This is exactly what I needed to put things in perspective: a mindless blow job. I keep my eyes wide open and fist a hand into the hair on the back of her head, pressing her deeper.
Maybe it’s because it’s been a few months since I’ve been with anyone, or maybe it’s because I’m fucking bursting with stored-up sexual tension from all those trips to a certain untouchable blonde’s classroom, but it’s over pretty fast. As I unload down her throat, despite my best effort to stay right here with this girl I don’t know or give a shit about, the face I see in my mind has wide-set ocean blue eyes that pierce straight into my soul, and