“See?” Andrew looks at me, smug.
“What’d I tell ya? Safe and sound.”
Mickey lifts his chin toward Andrew,
eyes narrowing.
“Union City?”
Andrew nods. “Yeah. Born and raised.”
“Figures,” Mickey grunts. “Straight outta Hudson County with the punched vowels, gold chain, and thatkeep-it-togetherjaw if I ever saw one, swallowin’ shit your whole life just to keep the peace.”
Andrew grins, tilting his chin.
“Yeah, and lemme guess—Bayonne.”
Mickey stills.
Andrew keeps going—“You clocked me in five seconds. Then didn’t act surprised when I confirmed it. Only someone from Bayonne does that.”
Mick huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Bayonne.
“And don’t you forget it.”
Great. Mick’s falling for him too.
We should all just line up.
“What is this?” I cut in. “A Jersey thing?
“Or bellhop vs. doorman?”
“Bellhop?” Mick nods, impressed.
“NowthatI wasn’t expectin’.”
To a couple Jersey boys,
any job requiring manual labor is respected.
Mick gestures toward him.
“Means you got the patience of a saint and the back of a mule.” He nods with a grin. “Yeah. You might have a shot with her. Hardest part was makin’ it to this building. Miss Taylor doesn’t bring anyone here.”
At the corner of my eye,
Andrew’s smiling down at me like?—
she let me in.
Even if it’s only up to the front door.
Mickey rocks on his feet,
attention driving back to me.
“You two heading in?”
