Chapter Two
AARON
Heading down theBelt Parkway, I gripped the steering wheel, careful to keep below the speed limit. Last thing I needed was cops on my ass, especially with a record. I signaled to change lanes, then exited off to city streets and relaxed.
The open window let in the scents and sounds of the city, but after being locked up for close to a year, it smelled like fucking paradise. Inside, it was piss, disinfectant, and the sweat of fear. I took a deep breath and turned up the radio, grinning to myself at the bouncy Top Forty song playing. I knew Frankie loved that shit, and I remembered coming home to find him dancing by himself to Britney or Beyoncé, looking fabulous and sexy.
Frankie…I sat at a green light, my mind not where it should be—preparing for this job—but instead on his big brown eyes and soft, thick hair. God, his mouth felt so good. Even now I could taste him, and my dick ached from the quickie blowjob. I had so much to make up for, but I wasn’t sure he still trusted me or believed I’d changed. The scary thing was that I couldn’t be sure myself.
A horn beeped at me from behind, jerking me to awareness. “All right. Hold your fuckin’ horses,” I muttered as I accelerated. The car swung from behind to pull up next to me.
“Wake up, asshole,” the moron yelled before he sped off in a squeal of tires. I flipped him off, and my hands tightened on the wheel.
Uh-uh, what the hell am I doing?
A year ago I would’ve taken off after him and gotten into a road rage. I shook my head.Fuck it.No way was I risking everything to fight with some loser. I had my head on straight, and I was on a mission. Job first, then Frankie’s trust.
I drove down Rockaway Parkway to Foster Avenue, and the Brooklyn Terminal Market loomed ahead of me, bustling with trucks loading and unloading fruits, vegetables, and plants. A large sign readingESPOSITO AND SONSgreeted me as I turned the corner and pulled into a parking spot. I cut the engine, and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me.
“Yo, watch out. Coming through,” a loud voice barked in my ear, and I half turned to see three burly guys with evergreen bushes hefted in their arms right behind me. I stepped out of their way.
“Sorry. I’m here to see Vincent?”
“Inside, to the back.” He jerked his head to the left.
“Thanks,” I said and headed in the direction he’d indicated, dodging men yelling orders back and forth and carrying more plants and flowers. The frenetic energy of the place appealed to my need to keep busy. I wanted this job so badly, I felt light-headed and nauseated from the anxiety pumping through me. Taking a deep, calming breath, I hesitated a second, then knocked on the small door with the dirty, half-glass window.
“Yeah?” a smoke-rough voice called out.
I opened the door to see a small man in his sixties with weather-beaten skin and sparse gray hair sticking out from beneath a well-worn tweed hat.
“Um, I’m Aaron? Aaron Cooke? We spoke earlier about the job?” I hated how high and tentative my voice sounded.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, come in and shut the door behind ya.” Vincent beckoned to me and pointed to the chair. “Siddown.”
Following his order, I took the small, hardback chair in front of his desk and stared at him, straight in the face.
“Okay, good. I like a guy who can look me in the eye. You like working with plants and flowers?”
“Yes, I’ve done it all my life. We had a backyard, and I used to grow vegetables and flowers.”
Vincent nodded his approval. “Good. So I don’t hafta teach you shit. I hate training people who don’t know nothin’.” He squinted. “You married?”
I tensed. “No.”
“Good. So no one naggin’ you about long hours. Girlfriend?” At the shake of my head, he belched and rubbed his stomach. “Yeah, don’t blame ya. You’re how old, twenty-eight, twenty-nine?”
“Yeah, I mean twenty-eight.”
“Plenny a time before you need to get tied down. Got kids?”
“No. Just me.” Jesus, these fucking questions were eating away at my nerves. Even though I knew he couldn’t ask me about my arrest, there were ways he could let me know he knew.
“Okay.” He scratched a few sentences down on a piece of paper. “Take this and give it to my daughter, Marie, out there. She’s got a boyfriend, so don’t get no ideas.” He chuckled, and I forced myself to laugh with him. “She’ll get you set up with a locker in the back and your paperwork. The job pays four hundred a week, and you’re gonna work for every dollar. It starts at eight in the morning and ends when I tell you to go home. There ain’t no union here, so don’t be crying about the pay.”
“It’s good.” He had no idea how desperate I was. The money was like riches to me. “I’m ready to start.”
“Good. Lennie!” Vincent bellowed. In a moment, a tall, good-looking, bearded guy with tattoos up and down his arms came into the office.
