“Bye.”
We hung up our call and I tucked my slider Sidekickinto my purse. I finished my makeup, taking extra care to make it perfect. Iwas supposed to pass as a college girl tonight, a little extra attention todetail was called for.
Twenty minutes later, my chin-length hair wasstraightened, my makeup was perfection and I’d managed to squeeze into my gold straplessminidresswith chain detail across the waist.Slipping on a pair of stockings and my favorite hand-me-downLouboutinsfrom Frankie, I admired myself in the mirrorbehind my door.
Boom. Nineteen.
I grabbed my crossover purse and left my bedroom,hoping to sneak out before my dad saw me.
No luck. He was hanging in the living room with hisusual crew, Vinnie and Brick. Steeling my courage, I walked through on my wayto the front door. They catcalled and threw out lewd suggestions until my dadtold them to shut up.
“Where you going, Caro?”
I hesitated by the coffee table covered in shotglasses and vodka bottles. “Work,” I told them.
The three of them whistled again, but it had the toneof respect this time. “See that, boys, my daughter’s doing important things.Very important things. She’s moving up.” My dad’s words ran together thanks totoo much drink. He rubbed at his bleary eyes and red nose, unable to focus onme.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said quickly, lest they startasking for details. “I’m just meeting Sayer.”
The three of them made more guffawing noises. “Nowthere’s a fucking cockroach,” Vinnie slurred. “That kid can suck my big, hairyballs.”
My dad’s eyes narrowed on his friend. “What’s yourproblem with the kid?”
“The little shit is the reason Fat Jack is gone,dummy. He’s a fucking spy.”
“Who?” Brick asked. “Jack?”
“No,” Vinnie grunted, then his head bobbled back andforth as he thought about it. “Yeah, fine, Jack. But that kid too. He’s got hiseyes on the top and he’ll do whatever it takes to get there, including steppingon all of our heads on his way.”
I should go. Gus was waiting for me. But this drunkenconversation had taken an interesting turn. “Fat Jack had it coming,” Ireminded Vinnie. “He was snitching to the feds. What did you think was going tohappen to him?”
Vinnie waved a meaty hand back and forth. “Psssht. He was staying out of prison. When those federalbastards put you in their sights you got to do what it takes to keep ‘emfrom locking you up. Thebratvacan’t protect you behindbars. It’s up to you to stayouttathat hell hole.”
“What are you saying, Vinnie?” I demanded.
“I’m saying Jack was giving them bullshit. Just enoughto keep them off his back. He wasn’t doing nothing to hurt the brotherhood.”
Brick nodded, his eyes mostly closed. “S’true. But the bosses don’t care. All that matters is ifyou’re a snitch. Tell one secret or all the secrets and you end up the same.”He tilted his head and looked at me with squinting eyes. “Dead.”
I swallowed. We all knew that to be true. If thepakhanheard youwere simply approached by the feds, they punished you—reminded you where yourloyalties should lie. If they had reason to believe that you were cooperatingwith law enforcement that meant… something worse. And significantly morepainful.
Fat Jack was dead because of what Sayer and I hadfound in his house.
“Let Jack be a lesson to all of us,” my dad said,bolstered by the tragedy of his friend. “Keep your hands clean.”
“And your nose cleaner,” Vinnie finished for him,although I murmured along.
I had always found that particular saying a bit of anoxymoron. Their hands weren’t clean. They were covered in blood and greed andlawlessness. But I understood the sentiment. It meant don’t steal from yourthieves in law and don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.
Head down. Focused on the job. Eyes on the prize.
“Jus’ be careful is all I’m saying,” Vinnie warned me.“Don’t let the little prick catch you talking to the feds. Don’t matter thatyou’re fuckin’ him. He’s only loyal to thepakhan. Nobody else.”
My cheeks were bright red and I avoided my dad’s eyes,even though they were glassed over. I wasn’t sleeping with Sayer. We’d beentogether all of three months. And while I was pretty confident things wereheaded in that direction, we weren’t doing that… yet.
“Whatever,” I mumbled weakly. “I’m not the one youhave to worry about talking to anybody.”
My dad poured more shots of vodka. “Go on, Caro. Don’tkeep ‘emwaiting on our behalf. Go do what you needto.”
