The way the cars were backed up, it didn’t look like they would be going anywhere for the short-term at least. It gave his heartrate a chance to return to normal.
“I’d better text Mum,” he said. “Or we’ll ruin dinner.”
He said the last bit in his mother’s mixed accent. Equal parts Italian and northern English.
Monica burst out laughing.
“She’d still slap your legs if she heard you.”
Carmine smirked. He’d always entertained the family with impressions of his mother. He suspected she secretly loved it.
“What have you been up to?” Monica asked, reaching into the glove compartment.
“Working.”
“Liar,” she replied sharply.
“What do you mean?”
Monica extracted a packet of chocolate Rolos from the mess. With difficulty she shoved the drawer closed.
“Do you ever clean this thing?” Carmine asked.
“You can get the train, you know.”
She slowly unwrapped the sweets.
“That isn’t the punishment you think it is.”
“Go on then,” she said. “Tell me everything.”
“What do you know?”
She grinned and selected a chocolate before offering one to him.
“My source?—”
“Samantha.”
“Tells me that you’ve got a man on the hook. I swear I know nothing more than that.”
Hmmm interesting. Samantha hasn’t totally sold me down the river over cocktails. She may as well have though.
Monica was the nosiest person he’d ever met. She would try every trick in the book to get the information out of him. He may as well comply.
“There is someone,” he said.
It sickened him that he couldn’t fight the smirk that appeared on his face. It soon dropped as Monica screeched.
“This is so exciting,” she cried.
“Jesus, Monica. My hearing!”
“What’s he like? Does he have a job? How did you meet?”
The interrogation would be thorough and ruthless. Carmine was trapped at her mercy. His sister had none.
“Okay, I surrender,” he said, holding his hands up. “If I give you all the details, do you promise not to squeal like that again?”
