“Yeah, real nice up until your uncle fuckin’ blasted him.”
Shit.
Noah scrambled for something else to say.
“He liked to cook?” Noah remembered Junior getting emotional in the kitchen when Carbone was discussed, and he knew he had to tread carefully.
“Yeah. He used to make this one thing. It was so fuckin’ good.”
“Oh, yeah?” Noah smiled.
“Yeah! He would take a nosy little meathead like you, cut off their fuckin’ balls after they started askin’ too many fuckin’ questions, pop ’em right out of the sack, and roast ’em up with some garlic and scallions! Oh, and he would even fry up the fuckin’ scrote skin for some texture.”
Noah sighed.
Junior’s nostrils flared. “Got any other fuckin’ stupid shit you wanna ask, fuckface?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
Maybe getting Junior to talk wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.
There was a knock on the door, and Junior turned to open it.
On the other side was Mace. He was smiling brightly and waving. “Well, hey there, everybody.”
“Why did yous knock, ya fuckin’ doofus?” Junior scowled.
“It’s not my room. Hello.” Mace huffed. “You have no manners.”
“Whatever.”
“You’rerude.”
“What’s up?” Junior frowned. “What are you doing back here already?”
“Look, that doesn’t matter.” Mace grimaced. “We got a situation downstairs. Mr. Star wants all of us right now.”
“What about him?” Junior jerked his head at Noah.
“Yeah, what about me?” Noah demanded.
“Bring him,” Mace said. “There’s all these people here, and they said they’re here for him.”
“For me?” Noah blinked.
“Catering, liquor, someone’s trying to set up a DJ booth out by the pool. Ringing any bells?”
The party. The party with DJ Quigs. The party with DJ Quigs and all the people Landon was inviting to attend said party.
Oh, shit.
Landon had set everything up for the party this weekend, and Noah had forgotten all about it. That little shit was probably charging everything under Noah’s name too.
Fuck.
Focus.
“You know anything about that?” Mace asked.
