Neither Grady brother has spoken so far, and I wonder if they’ve got me figured out, or if they see me in a worse light now.Seems like their friend isn’t scared to keep asking until he’s got the whole picture though.
“What do you mean by the life? You said you weren’t in a gang.”
Chin to my chest, my eyes flash up to his, one brow raised. “Not exactly a gang. My family had…other connections.”
“Oh shit!” Ronnie claps a hand over his mouth, then whispers so loud he may as well shout the words. “Like the mafia?”
“How dumb are you?” Wyatt stares down the guy to his right.
“Pretty dumb, most days,” Ronnie says with a shrug. “Thought you’d be used to it by now.”
Weston turns in a circle, shaking his head and trying not to laugh with his back to us.
“That’s not a word I’d use,” I hedge.
“But that’s the life you were in?” Wyatt asks his first question of me.
I nod, shifting my stance to crack my hips. “Never fully. Obviously.”
Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.
That’s a life you don’t walk away from unless you’re in a casket.
“But it’s the path I was on. Negotiated my way out of it after I got out on good behavior. Think the boss was having a soft day or some shit, I dunno. Prolly felt bad about my old man. Or how I was twenty-one and had already done four years and wasn’t even made yet. Had nothing to show for it. Whatever it was, he let me walk away.”
The note on my front door back in Queens flashes through my mind.
Don’t really feel it’s a necessary part of the story to add in that he might be rethinking that deal.
They’d never look for me in the Heights. Never been big on social media, nothing to trace me to here, even if they cared to. All that cash I saved over the years left no trail on my escape route.
Plus, it wouldn’t be worth their time to hunt me down, all this way. Once I got past the Poconos, I took my first deep breath. Not much pulls the outfit that far, definitely not a nobody like me. Now that I’m ten hours away from their turf, every breath fills my lungs deeper than it ever did before.
That part of my life is over. Glance down at my right hand for the reminder.
The word FREE stares back at me.
Cazzo, I can’t even remember the last time I checked the headlines. It was before the opening. Last week?
I shake my head and keep going. “Started working any job I could get in food service to put myself through culinary school. Became a chef. And here we are.”
“Just like that,” Weston muses.
“Don’t worry,” Ronnie says. “We won’t tell anyone.”
Well, I didn’t think they would, but now I’m wondering.
Ronnie’s mouth keeps running. “Except our wives. Unless you’d kill us. Then we won’t.”
Wyatt shoves Ronnie so hard he flies off the back of the truck and sprawls on the ground, complaining loudly.
“You’re going to get us killed, Ronnie,” Weston whines.
“Please.” I wave them off. “I was never that guy. Not even my dad was that guy. It’s not that glamorous these days. Shit, we didn’t even have a butcher shop to hang out in front of. Really felt baited and switched after watchingThe Sopranos.”
“Youdidlook like you were gonna kill Gary for a second in there,” Ronnie defends, wiping his hands on his jeans and fixing the hat on his head after his spill.
“Wanted to,” I admit.
