Flora and I walk into the bar together, meeting a solid crowd when we enter. Huge weekend because of the playoffs. For the first time in what feels like a century, the Sabres are in the playoffs. I have my doubts they’ll make it to the finals, but the energy in Buffalo is tense and excited the way it is whenever we feel like Josh Allen might deliver on what he keeps promising.
Flora grins and makes one of those annoying female screeching sounds when she sees the bartender. Holy fuck. Iwish it were more socially acceptable for women to grunt. As I watch Flora greet her, I hear two guys behind me talking about my sister in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Look at the ass on that blonde.”
“Quiet. Don’t you see…” the smarter of the pair says. I only know he’s the smarter one because he’s the one suggesting theyshut the fuck up about Flora.
“That’s a load of bullshit, Mac. Urban legend. Damn, I would put my tongue so deep in that chick’s butt I would lick her farts.”
“Be quiet…”
I turn around, throwing a glare at the dude in the Bills hoodie saying this depraved shit about my sister. His friend punches him hard in the side of his arm.
“He apologizes,” the smart guy says.
I want to escalate the situation badly. Not just to teach this dick a lesson, but because I feel annoyed at the fact that I’ll have to watch Flora closely all night instead of having a moment of free time to enjoy myself. I don’t give a fuck about the shit twenty-four year old girls care about.
“Peter!” Flora calls out to me, right before I can punch the shit out of the guy mouthing off. “Get over here!”
He’s lucky that Flora demands my attention. I walk over to her and she slides me a glass of bourbon the same color as the stubble on my face.
“Is that drugged?”
Flora wrinkles her nose in disgust. “No. I’m not stupid like Cosima. Why do you think I got out of school so easily?”
Flora spent a few years married off to some Italian nutjob in Tuscany. He died of natural causes and she inherited a large sum of money. After my father passed away, she reached out to Michael and confessed that she wasnotstill married.
Unfortunately, she got caught up in the Pittsburgh mess a few months ago and since then, Michael wants her on a tightleash. Flora doesn’t thrive with a tight leash, especially not since she has a net worth of several million dollars thanks to her ex-husband and apparently after his death she spent nine months clubbing her way around Greece and Italy.
She only came back because she got into trouble, I’m sure of it. I take a sip of the bourbon, keeping my wits about me as the bartender passes Flora a drink that smells like coffee.
“What the fuck is that?”
“It’s an espresso martini, you uncultured swine.”
“Watch your mouth, Flora.”
“You should stand back,” Flora says to me over her shoulder. “I could meet my second husband here if you weren’t hanging all over me.”
The woman is completely shameless. Twenty-four years old andproudlymovingon to her second husband. She makes me feel old and traditional, which is funny because compared to Michael, I’m not. All I care about is being with someone who I can be at peace with – someone I can grow old with. My biggest problem is already being old… and never meeting any woman who made me feel much of anything, as bad as it sounds.
“I was just telling Lizzie that if I don’t get a boyfriend by Christmas, I’ll get myself a boob job,” Flora says with increasingly shamelessness.
Heat spreads across my face. I can’t believe mybaby sisteris talking like that. A boob job?No.She’s basically a child. I drink half the glass of bourbon at once, forgetting my initial fears that Flora would drug me.
“You shouldn’t talk about your body like that,” I warn her, fighting back the urge I feel to escalate the situation.
“It’smybody, Peter. Not yours,” Flora says, brushing my nose with her finger like I’m her pet spaniel or something. “Drink your bourbon and let me discuss my plans for an upper bleft.”
“If you use either of those words around me again, I’ll lock you in your room without food for a day,” I snarl low enough that only Flora can hear me. She rolls her eyes.
“You need to get laid,” she says.
“Mind your business, Flora.”
Belladonna’s is the best place for me to meet up with Gino and hand him the key to the safety deposit box in my basement where I keep the cash for the week between pickups. I’m lending him a couple hundred grand for him to start up his own business out near the Onondaga nation in Syracuse.
The closest real Indian casino out there is Turning Point, but it’s all the way out in Oneida. Plenty of clientele in the area who might be willing to buy in to a few tables. Gino needs someone to take him under their wing. He’s easy going, does what he’s told, and he prefers to keep to himself. Renzo is flashy and dramatic.
