Peyton gives me a soft smile from the couch, where she’s holding their twins.
“I’m glad you’re out,” she says. “And you look to still be in one piece.”
“Thanks.” I chuckle.
Speaking of which … I pull my phone out and text Lorenzo’s temporary phone.
When he doesn’t reply, I text the guard we have on payroll.
Greg: He was jumped and sent to the medical ward.
Fuck.
“What’s wrong?” Dominick asks, making me realize I cursed out loud.
“Uncle Matty said a bad word,” Damien chides. “That’ll be ten dollars.”
“Ten?” I hiss, glaring at my brother who thought it would be smart to start a swear jar when he caught Damien cursing a couple times.
When we curse, we gotta put money in, and since Damien doesn’t want to give up any of his money, it has stopped him from cursing. Me, on the other hand … it’s only causing a dent in my damn wallet.
“Thought it was one,” I tell Damien, pulling out my cash, thanks to my wallet being given back to me.
“Infalation,” Damien says.
“You mean inflation?” I laugh. “What the hell do they teach kids in preschool?”
“That’s two ten dollars.” Damien extends his hand, and I slap a twenty into it.
He lights up and runs over to show his mom.
“Lorenzo,” Dominick prompts, used to me getting off track.
“He’s been jumped.”
I pull up the number to the only person in the jail who might be able to help him and send him a text.
Me:20K to put Lorenzo Russo in isolation.
Thankfully, a few seconds later, he texts back that it’s being handled.
“They’re putting him in isolation, but I need to get him out of there as soon as we get Daniella out. I’m going to your office to call Eddy.”
“Uncle Matty, I go with you?” Damien asks, running back over to me.
“I have to work right now, little man.”
His face falls, and my heart clenches in my chest. I hate to see the disappointment in his features. One look at him, and I understand why Dominick will stop at nothing to give him the world.
“But,” I continue, kneeling in front of him, “how about once I’m done working, we’ll go swimming? Okay?”
“Okay! And we’ll play Toothpaste?”
I quirk a brow, wondering why little kids are so strange. “You probably shouldn’t play with your toothpaste. You need it to brush your teeth.”
Peyton laughs. “It’s a game. Go handle your business. We’ll teach you how to play Toothpaste later.”
I shake my head, confused by this generation, and head to Dominick’s office.
