Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
A man gets out of a cab with a buddy, both of them laughing as they head inside, I slip into the back seat and tell the driver my address. Am I a good guy, or a bad guy? The notion teeters on my soul like a man on the bouts of sinning.
This is why I didn’t want this position. I’m too back and forth and in the world of mafia.. everything is final.
3
Romeo
In the back of the cab, I rock back and forth as we make our way back to my place, everything my father wants of me, and expects raining through my head like a bad storm. I know the rules of the game when running organized crime, there’s no room for weakness. Like my father and my grandfather, they’ve become ruthless, menacing men, not using their power for the greater good in any way. I can’t help but think with that much respect and hierarchy, why not try to help where you can? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the therapist’s words echoing in my head. Running my hands over my face, the lemony smell of the cab gives me a headache. I can’t help but wonder if Kieran knows anything about the meeting on Thursday. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I shoot him a text.
Are you at your place, or Leona’s?
Mine
Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I lean forward.
“Change of plans,” I tell the driver and have him go to Kieran’s apartment. As soon as we pull up to the curb, the headlights shine across the steps to the front of his place, revealing him sitting on them.
I give the guy a fifty.
“Keep the change,” I mutter, slipping out of the ripped up back seat. The fresh air of the night taking the ache in my temples to a tolerable pain.
He drives off, and my eyes meet Kieran’s. He’s sprawled out on the steps of his place, looking like a father’s worst nightmare with all his tattoos. I’m surprised he’s not in a suit, he’s always wearing the most top of the line shit.
“I figured you’d pop up,” he says with a slight grin. His hair disheveled, chest baring his tattoos of cheesy mafia quotes and tribal ink. Making my way to him, I sit next to him on the steps and pull out my cigarettes, lighting one. It’s funny if you think about it. Father always offered Kieran a smoke after doing something shady, but I was the one who picked it up.
“So, what brings you here?” Kieran asks with a bored tone, rubbing his palms together. He’s wearing sweats, I haven’t seen him in something so casual in a while.
“Father wants me to take your place,” I tell him, and for the first time a heavy awkwardness sets place atop my shoulders. I guess I never really thought that taking Kieran’s place might make him angry, or even feel the need to be my enemy rather than my brother.
“I figured he would,” he informs with a sharp inhale. “Is that what you want?” I can feel him look at me, but I keep my eyes focused forward into the dark. Random cars passing by giving a glimpse of brief lighting before the dark consumes my distant vision.
“I dunno. I think so,” I mutter, looking down at my hands. I really don’t know what I want anymore. I didn’t think I wanted the job, but when I was in that room tonight, something inside of me wanted to show our father I was more than capable of the position. That he’s underestimated me all these years but I don’t think I could be under his scrutinizing thumb overall. “It’s not like I can say no even if I wanted to,” I continue grimly. We were born into this, we are either beside our father or against him. I wouldn’t be surprised if I reject the offer if he comes off as pissed but is really grateful on the inside because it gives him a reason to come after me. Sometimes I swear I’m adopted.
“There’re ways,” Kieran says smugly. I silently laugh, glancing at him momentarily. “I think you just want to rebel, start a war and be the last one standing,” I state, and Kieran shrugs, knowing I’m right. He’s always pushed the rules and stood ready and bound to fight to the core of anyone who dared tried to question his reasoning. To be honest, it’s something I admire about him. I want to push the limit, but I’m scared of myself. If I let myself go to that level, will I be able to reel myself back in? I might be worse than our father, who knows.
“Dad has me going with him to meet a potential client Thursday, know anything about it?” I finally ask, not wanting to think about my mental illness a second longer. I want to know ahead of time so I can prepare myself, show up ready and knowledgeable on whatever deal we are about to make.