“For who?” I ask.
“Yeah, who?” Bronx echoes.
She throws up her hands.
“How would I know that?” Then she pokes me in the chest with a painted nail. “You’re the one talking about enemies, allies, and perception. How come yourelitesecurity guys didn’t see that coming? For all we know it’s connected to the shooter from last night.”
The crowd parts after most people have left the room and my breath catches when Arturo Mancini strolls toward us. Dad and Mom stand at the table, panic etched onto their faces.
“What the hell are you doing here? You the Grim Reaper or something?” Livvie says.
He looks between us. “I assume neither of you were hit?”
My blood boils. “Looks that way, Arturo, doesn't it?”
“Very good. Pay attention, both of you. We can reachyou wherever you are. In a public place or in the shower fucking your wife. That was a simple message. We don't tolerate loose ends or people who choose not to obey an order.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I demand. “What loose ends?”
“Watch your step, Viacava,” he grunts. “Or you won’t like what comes next.”
“What the fuck?” I say, shoving him backward. “No more of your goddamn cryptic games, Mancini. I know a warning shot when I hear one. Was that your real message?”
“Kingston,” Mom calls out. “Stop. Please. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
I turn to my parents and shake my head.
“How much more don’t we know?” I hold up a hand to his face, suddenly aware of the bustle around us. Eyes are everywhere and our business is wide open. “Fuck this… I don’t want to hear about it now. I don’t trust anything right now, and that includes you, Mancini.”
I grab Livvie’s hand. “We’re leaving.”
“But Kingston, you don’t know if it’s safe,” Mom says.
I don’t give a shit. I don’t look back.
“How are we getting home?” Livvie asks once we’re in the elevator heading to the ground floor.
I pull out my phone and order an Uber Black. “I’m not giving them control of anything else right now, including how the fuck we’re getting home. And I want to get away from here before the fucking cops show up; otherwise, we’ll be stuck all night.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open on the lobby floor. I lace my fingers withLivvie’s and we walk close together along with the throngs of people on their way out of the building.
We walk out into the crisp night air and Livvie hugs herself. I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
“I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all,” she says with a hint of a smile.
“Came damn close twice and third time’s the charm.” I wink at her, then look down at my phone for the license plate number.
A blacked-out Audi A8 pulls up to the curb right in front of where we stand, windows tinted to the point where they're opaque.
But I caught a look at the license plate when it rolled to the curb.
It’s not our driver.
Doesn’t appear to be anyone’s driver. It’s just parked here.
Waiting. Watching.
And I don’t fucking like being on display.
