I’m not a Sugar Daddy.
I’m barely pushing thirty-three, for fuck’s sake. Not even ten years older than he is.
Granted, I’ve always felt older than I am. I had to mature early, what with becoming leader of the cartel at twenty-six, and all. A job Arturo didn’t take on until he was in his thirties.
The hair helps. Despite my not looking a day over thirty, people see the hair and assume I’m older—maybe he just gets Botox or takes really good care of his skin, that kind of thing. It certainly comes in handy when dealing with stuffy old assholes like Russo Sr., who would normally object to putting their blind trust, shady business dealings, andmoneyin a lord of organized crime more than half his age.
The point is that I’m nowhere near old enough to be Jonathan’s father, or hisDaddy—no matter how tingly the thought makes my balls—so we worked out an arrangement tokeep things copacetic. Any money I lent him to get his affairs in order will come out of his paycheck. Since apparently, in order for him to move here, it was imperative that he get his mother set up to want for nothing.
I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Tammy Chevelle yet, but from what I understand, Jonathan’s been taking care of her since he was old enough to work. In my research, I found that she suffers greatly at the hands of addiction, which makes it hard for her to hold a job or manage money on her own. According to him, she’s functional and all. But I’ve seen it enough times to know that enabling her is really a means to an end.
It’s not my place to voice these things. I’ve only known Jonathan a few weeks, and despite how unnervingly easy it is to be in his company, we’re not friends.
And yet, I do have to concede to how equally easy it would be to slip into thatroleI was just claiming I was too young and evil andrationalfor…
Peering at him, I consider these things while murmuring, “How are you feeling? About how you left things… at home?”
I witness him swallow. “Fine. I mean, there’s only so much I can do, right?”
Yes, I agree.But I don’t say that. I just stay quiet in hopes he’ll continue on. Which he does.
“Of course I’m always going to worry about her,” he mumbles, tightening and releasing his grip on the steering wheel. “But I think…”
His voice trails and he bites his lip.
“Tell me,” I command softly.
He glances at me. “I think maybe some distance will be a good thing.”
I’m trying to disguise the fluttering of my lashes in this state of bewilderment while he follows the sign for the main entrance of the prison, pulling into a parking spot, all of which are empty.
We’re the only ones here… Because this is brand new.
This place. This…venture. It’s just the beginning, and up until this moment, I was doing it myself. Facing an uphill climb toward the unknown.
But as it would seem… I’m not alone anymore.
Jonathan kills the engine and releases a heavy breath. Then he turns to face me. “I wanted to thank you.”
My head cocks.
“For letting me do what I needed to do… For her.” He shifts, vulnerable, with nowhere to hide in this confined space. “I know this is a business for you, and you don’t owe me anything. But I just… I don’t know, I appreciate you being so… understanding.”
I’m not one to gape at people, because I’m rarely surprised. But I’m just… staring.
Is that what I’m being? Understanding…?
If so, that’s… new.
“I’m happy to assist in any way that I can, Jonathan,” I mutter thecompletelyout of character words I’m not sure I’ve ever said to anyone.
I actually feel like I’m outside of myself, watching on in fascination at the hardened criminal kingpin, pretending to care about the human he’s basically imprisoned, and his junkie mother.
The thickness in my throat is confusing. I don’t…get it.
I’ve never… I don’t…
No entiendo.
