My fingers wrapped around the door handle, my knuckles turning white, as our eyes met through the rearview mirror. Middle-aged, probably. Not that tall but built. His hair was shaved in a buzzcut, and it was dyed a fake shade of blonde. The inside of his cab smelled like leather, old sweat, a sub sandwich, and a cologne that was pricey. Even though his clothes looked cheap, something about his demeanor told me he came from money or had it at one time.
He was a good-looking son of a bitch, despite being a walking contradiction.
“You have lost someone?” he asked. He had a thick French accent.
It took me a moment to answer him. I didn’t want him to hear weakness in my voice. My breaths were shallow in that panicked way. “No.” I looked away from him, down at my phone, getting to the call screen. I was about to dial Andrea, since Neil probably wouldn’t answer while he was talking to Aren, but the man hit the brakes in front of Vice City.
I took a deep breath and tried the door. It opened without issue, and the panic seizing my chest relented some.
The driver met my eyes through the mirror, and neither of us said anything for a second until I cleared my throat.
“How much do I owe you?”
He didn’t answer, and the awkwardness grew into something fucking creepy. I got out just before he sped away. A fat raindrop landed on my forehead and slid down my nose.
A chill shook me when I realized…he hadn’t asked me where to.
SIX
AVA
The fat dropletsstarted to multiply, and when they reached my clothes, I shook them off and hustled into the building. The smell of ink and urgency seemed even stronger when they were mixed with the scent of fresh rain and frigid air.
Something about the cold always pulled them out, like it did with the dust and mold on old papers, but when New York got wet, it seemed to make smells even more powerful.
A few coworkers glanced at me, but when they realized my sneakers were drenched in water and not blood, they went about their business. Blood meant scoop, and we all turned into sharks when it was in the air.
Hoffa seemed to narrow her eyes at me when I entered the office, but she went back to her nap when she realized it was just me. I flung my things on my desk and ignored the tremble in my hands. I went to the cabinet with my secret items and grabbed my caddy and some clean clothes. I took a hot, long shower, and then tried to figure out what I was going to do next.
All the boxes I’d packed up from Sonny’s were still stacked in the corner. I rummaged through a few of them, cursing when I cut myself on an old piece of glass hidden at the bottom, before I got to one that was labeledFausti. I went through the cards I’d made, mouthing to myself the names and stats of each member in Marzio’s line. I’d memorized them.
I sighed when I got to the last one and flung it back in the box.
Rocco’s card reminded me. I forgot to show Edna the picture of Rosaria Caffi that was where Tigran’s heart should have been. She’d brought up the coronation, and it was all I could think about for a while. I grabbed the blood-soaked picture from the safe in my locker and headed toward her office.
Andrea was coming out of his office with a leash in his hand. A small poodle who looked like it belonged in Pet Cemetery was pulling against its harness. One of its eyes looked blue.
“Sweets?” I asked.
“She really is,” he said with a grin. “Sweet. Even if she has seen better days.” He bent down and scooped her up, and she seemed to relax. “Neil still out in the field?”
“Yeah, he’s talking to Aren, Tigran’s brother.”
“He’ll do right by him.”
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else with Aren right now.” I patted Sweet’s head. “What’s going on with her?”
“I couldn’t stand to see her go to the pound. No one else in my family wanted her. She’s mean to almost everyone but Neil, me, and the neighbor across the hall. I’m not sure how long she’s going to last without Aunt Lucia, but we’ll try our best to give her a good ending. Edna told me it was okay that I bring her to work.”
“Ed’s getting cozy with the pets in this place.”
“Not really. Edna’s not huge on change, but she let me because she let you.” He adjusted Sweets. “I better take this old girl out before it really starts coming down. She’s a grass snob.”
We parted ways, and I stopped outside of Edna’s office. I was going to knock, but the scene stopped me from intruding. Two crystal glasses sat on her desk, a bottle of whiskey next to them. It seemed like she’d just filled the glasses. The scent of alcohol still burned through the air. Glenn Miller’s voice spun out of the record player.
Edna gazed up at the poster of Marzio Fausti, a faraway look in her eyes, while her assistant sat in a chair across from her desk. He was waiting for her to say something or to give him an order, maybe.
He wasn’t going to last much longer. If she started to go quiet with them, another one usually replaced the current one a week or two later. None of them could ever live up to her expectations. None of them were ever going to be Marzio Fausti.
