I reread that sentence. Why do I care if she’s happy? Probably because I’ve been making her life a living hell without realizing it.
But what does this mean? She’ll be in my building. A weird sensation of heat flushes through my body. I’ll see her every day, and not because she’s walking the dog. When she comes home from a long day, she’ll be coming home to m— Um… to my building. Not me. But I’ll be ten floors away. She’s free to come and go as she pleases. What happens if she brings a guy home… Nope, I don't like that thought at all. I’m about to come up with a list of contingency plans when my phone buzzes.
Silvio: Your dog has the softest tongue… he’s licking my hand. You’re bringing this dog downstairs every morning until the project’s over. I love him. Maybe more than my wife.
I shake my head and scroll through the news. Still nothing about Nonna's plane. I guess the Olympians are doing a good job keeping it under wraps.
Donny sends me a meme that I don’t think is funny, but I give him a thumbs up anyway.
How has this become my life? Jenny’s already costing me three hundred grand by locking in early, which I can’t even be mad about because that’s what happens in business. Sometimes we’re able to push early buyers out, but it doesn’t always work. Plus, the thirty-six thousand she scammed me from the refund of the membership she’s keeping.
Ok, that one’s my fault too.
Ugh. I want to be pissed at her, but every time I am, it circles back to me being angry at myself.
The subway stops with a lurch and the passengers stand, jockeying for the best position by the door. I manage to make my way out with only a few brushes against strangers.
The sun is always jarring when coming from the darkness and the yellow lighting of the subway. By the time I make it down to the space, most of my family’s there. And I’m hungry. Donuts and coffee didn’t fill me for a thirty-block walk.
Donny’s leaning against the left side wall, that’s his usual place. There’s one of those old-school jukeboxes there, and he likes to lean on it like a character from the fifties. Uri and Thiago are there too, both of them are on their phones. They look up and nod at me.
“Got something on your mind?” Donny says.
I’ve got about a million things, and they’re all about Jenny. I don’t like her. Right? I mean she’s cute, very fuckable. And she has the same kinks I do. But she doesn’t like me either. And she’s costing me a fuckton of money. And she’s going to be living in my building, which I not only ok’ed, but fast tracked it. That’s annoying too. Plus, there’s that whole demon thing. Why do the cute ones have to be crazy?
“Jenny thinks there’s a demon on Carver Street and she leaves it presents every time she passes it.”
Donny pushes his hair back, raises his eyebrows at me, and I brace for some cutting insult about me. Or worse, her.
“Creepy-ass brownstone at 632? The one with the fucked-up sidewalk?”
“Yeah.”
Donny nods. “She’s right. Don’t know if there’s a demon, but there’s something supernatural happening there.”
Uri looks up from his phone and Thiago slides his into his back pocket, suddenly very interested in what we’re talking about.
“What?” I can’t believe Donny agrees with her.
“Look, I’ve seen it all—Buffy, Angel, X Files, Vampire Diaries, iZombie, Charmed, original and the reboot, every episode of Supernatural.”
“Sabrina?” Uri adds.
Donny nods. “The cute one and the scary one.” He pauses and mumbles, “I like the aunts and the cat.” He shakes his head. “I’m an expert.”
Thiago rolls his eyes. “Sounds like you’re a fan of paranormal teen drama more than anything else.”
Donny pushes himself off the wall. “I’ve read the books, watched the documentaries… Fuck, I even have a double major in Folklore.”
“Uncle Gio paid for a degree in Folklore? Does he know this?”
Donny waves his hand. “What the fuck did you major in?”
“Double majored in Civil Engineering and Business, with a minor in construction and on-site management.” I have my master’s in business, too, but I keep that to myself around Donny or anyone else in the family. They thought I was at strip clubs in my early twenties. Nope, locked away in a library studying.
He scoffs. “Whatever. I liked the folklore shit and never missed a class. The point is, she’s right. Bad shit’s been happening in that building for over a century. If you go there, carry some table salt and sage.”
I’m about to tell him he’s crazy, when the uncles come in. Uri pipes in with, “Uncle Gio, did you know Donny has a degree in Folklore?”
