“Okay. We will go get it now,” Andy said. “But you owe me cookies when you are back on your feet for making me go over there on a night when I’m not obligated to.”
“You got it,” I agreed. “Thanks for checking in on me.”
“Want Meatball to keep you company while we’re gone?” Andy asked, picking him up.
“Sure. I missed his smushy face,” I said, patting the bed.
With that, Andy left the dog with me and the two women were escorted to the door by Venezio.
“What took so long? Did they threaten you?” I asked when he finally returned.
“Sammy is pretty scary when she wants to be,” he said, coming over to the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes, and climbing up next to me.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like that you have friends who care about you. Did you know she has a gun? And a healthy understanding of the Castle Doctrine in the city?”
“She’s a badass. Aww,” I cooed as Meatball climbed up between us and rested his broad head on Venezio’s thigh.
“You like him, huh?”
“He’s my nephew,” I said, petting his velvety head.
“You don’t want a dog?”
“I’ve always wanted a dog. But I was, you know, taking care of my mom. And then the charity opportunity dropped in my lap. I just haven’t had the time.”
“What kind would you get? Something big and mean? Small and fluffy?”
“Something in between, maybe? Medium-sized, so I don’t worry about tripping over it. But with hair. I love you, buddy,” I said, rubbing Meatball’s ears. “But you shorter-haired dogs get stinky fast.”
“Puppy? Senior?”
“Middle? I mean, puppies are so cute. But there’s so much training involved. It would be nice to get one with some programs already installed. Are you getting a dog?” I asked. It was odd how much he was asking about it.
“Nah. Well, maybe. But it’s not at the top of my list. Your feet still doing alright?”
“Still blessedly numb. What kind of pain medicine did Salvatore give me?”
“Percs, I’m sure.”
“Percs?”
“Not street shit,” he said, shooting me a bemused look. “Got some guys in the Family who have chronic pain. They go to pain management and get pills.”
“But don’t they need them?”
“When weed is legal?” he asked, shrugging. “Salvatore pays ‘em for the medicine. They use that to get edibles. Everyone is happy and pain-free. I could get you weed, if you’d rather go that route.”
“God, no.”
“Not a fan?”
“Listen, the old street stuff? That was fine. This legal stuff? Absolutely not. It’s too strong. Andy, Sammy, and I shared a joint once, and I woke up the next day to realize I’d eaten two containers of ice cream. Not the cute little pint ones, the ones meant for families. And an entire bag of Halloween candy was also missing. I felt sick for like three days. No thanks. I had to take pain pills for when I had my wisdom teeth taken out. I was loopy, but didn’t chew through a Kit-Kat wrapper. So… yeah.”
“You chewed through a candy wrapper?” he asked, smirking.
“Yeah. And I’m about ten minutes away from doing it again. What can we order this late?”
