“Yes, and so what?”
“Bronx.”
“What!”
“What kind of sick, dysfunctional relationship have you gotten yourself into with this woman?”
“She’s staying at my place. I couldn’t just leave her in my house while I came here.”
“This is me, Bro’. I know you’re fucking her, I can tell, and that’s not all–you really like this girl.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” he lowers his voice, remembering that she’s in the other room. “The one thing I told you to do was not to get physically involved with her. What are you going to tell her when her brother turns up dead?”
“That he was already dead?”
“Holy shit, you’ve actually attempted to think this through.”
“Fuck you, Seven.”
“You’ve got to end it.”
It only takes a moment to think about what ending it with Karma would look like. She’d live somewhere else. She’d talk to someone else. She’d fuck someone else.
“No.”
“No?”
“I won’t do it.”
“You won’t or you can’t?”
“I won’t.”
“Are you falling for her?”
“Maybe.”
“You’ve known her for ten minutes. This love at first sight thing isn’t you. Are you sure she isn’t playing you?”
I step in closer to my brother and grab him by his shirt. “Karma’s a good girl. She isn’t playing me. She isn’t capable of it.”
“Think about it, Bronx. Why would a woman who knows literally nothing about her brother want to find him? If the watchdog is even her brother. This could all be a hustle.”
“Hustling me to get what?”
“She’s in your house, eating your food, spending your money, I bet.”
“I’m not doing this now.”
“End it.”
“Stay out of my business, Seven.”
“Then stop bringing me into it. I’m trying to help you.”
“That’s what you’re not getting. I don’t need your help and I never did. Stop trying to parent me. I’ve already got two of ‘em and they are definitely enough.”
