But, honestly—will the people of South Shorereallyget up in arms when I run Levi’s killer down?
Probably not.
I search for Matteo’s black Beamer. And if he didn’t bring it, he’d be in his right-hand man’s red Eclipse.
I don’t know if my ex is aware, but I know all his boys’ cars.
And they’re so predictable they’ve never changed them or their egos because I know for a fucking fact either car is going to hold Matteo in it. He’s too much of a bitch to send just his men as a painful reminder. My ex will want to see me suffer for what he’s done.
And I’m fine with it.
He just sent himself to die.
My eyes quickly scan the strip mall parking lot the vehicle is sitting in. There’re not many people there because folks around here knowexactlywho Matteo is and don’t want to fuck with that kind of energy.
I pass more crowds enjoying the lineup of cars and souped-out rides, paying tribute to the man who deserves all of this.
But wouldn’t that be something?
Mowing down the piece of shit who murdered Levi on a cold sidewalk, in the middle of said bestie’s commemoration.
I think it’d be even more memorable.
And fitting.
Like a fly to shit, I locate Matteo sitting on the ceiling of his black Beamer with his legs casually crossed over the windshield without a care in the world.
I’m. Going. To. Kill. This. Bitch.
Merging into the farthest lane to get over, my adrenaline is popping off like I took speed while my simmering rage comes to the forefront of my brain.
Matteo sees me, probably way before I saw him, and that’s what pisses me off again. He, more than likely, has been stalking me for well over a few minutes, if not more, and thought it’d be smart and fun to fucking show up here.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the prick did.
It saves me from having to hunt him down myself and break a few promises I made to Cairo aboutnotactively seeking him out.
And this may be my only opportunity to get his ass while proclaiming I wasn’t the one who set this up.
Ole boy did.
Maybe a few shanks to his kidneys, a couple of calculated head slams against the trunk of his car, or one thrusted into his heart—I’m good with either one, preferably the latter.
Actually, no. I’d like to drag him behind my car.
I notice the folks still lingering nearby begin to veer off as I approach Matteo’s car. I’m curious if word has gotten out that my ex was the possible cause of my best friend’s death, but most aren’t capable of murder for such a feat.
I am.
Obviously.
I just popped off Nessa and still feel zero remorse, but they don’t know that.
Shit, I’d do it again if given the chance.
I watch Matteo confidently slide off his car like the sleazy piece of shit he is. Dressed in black jeans and a white tee, he couldn’t appear more accomplished in his success if he tried.
And he couldn’t have underestimated me more if he wanted to either.
