Chapter 3
That little fucker. I didn’t know what he was tripping on, but he wasn’t going to be getting me.
There were the markings of a confidence con in his eyes, like he was gonna get me on my back in a bed before putting some chloroform onto a rag and snuffing me out for the evening while he pillaged my bedside drawer and anything else he could get his seedy Fed fingers on.
The big underground poker game was happening this weekend, and I was going to make sure he wasn’t around for when the high rollers came to play with their dirty cash.
It was going to be a lot of fun, but it wasn’t going to be held if he was still hanging around, at least not at the Palazzo, and members of the games hated a last-minute change of venue.
There was nothing like a change to get them riled up and antsy.
I met my brother at the construction offices.
We needed to talk, and he was busy making the building look busy.
The offices were used by some of the associates and soldiers during the day, cosplaying people who worked in an office when they were mostly just in online gaming lobbies, playing first-person shooter games, something Santo had read online about improving shooting accuracy.
Sitting opposite him, I had a snarl fixed to my face—it was a hard habit to slip out of. Our father had sat in that seat, and would usually say something misogynistic or homophobic that we’d all have to grin and bear.
“I’m worried about Tomaso,” Santo said, grabbing a hard crystal paperweight and squeezing it like a stress ball. “He’s not been in contact with anyone, and Mom’s checked the entire property to make sure he’s not lying in the garden somewhere. She’s even turned the sprinklers on a handful of times.”
I didn’t reply fast enough, and my brother cocked his head as he stared at me. “I’m sure he’ll turn up when he needs something,” I said. “Like money.”
“I doubt it,” he laughed. “He’s got access to money.”
“Has he used any of his cards?”
“No, which means he doesn’t want to be found.”
“He’s probably fucking his way through the state,” I said. “I’m not worried about him, and you shouldn’t be either.” It wasn’t unlike our brother to go missing, but stranger now since he wasn’t hiding from our father. “You should pick up smoking again.” I snickered, which he didn’t appreciate.
“Fuck you.” He slammed the paperweight down on the table again.
The office door opened and in walked his boyfriend with that sweet smile of his.
He pranced almost, and I missed the idea that there was someone out there for me.
If Santo had someone, I guess I could have someone now as well.
Isaiah had started out as Santo’s assistant, and he still dressed the part in the shirt and slacks.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he walked inside.
“You told me to tell you if there was any sighting of Tomaso, and I think I found something on Insta.” He walked up to us, presenting his phone.
Santo patted his lap, and Isaiah sat on it, giggling.
“I should leave you alone,” I said.
“Oh, shut it,” Santo snapped. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Turned out Tomaso was somewhere in New York.
It made sense he was out of state. Nobody had seen him.
The location was of an underground garage party, which seemingly went on for extended periods of time and where people took party drugs to get through the marathon of dancing that seemed to take place there.
“At least he’s alive,” Santo said.
“No more worrying,” I laughed.
Santo scoffed. “I wasn’t worried. I just gotta keep Mom in the loop. She’s always asking.”
“Should I call her?” Isaiah asked. “I’m trying to earn brownie points.”
They kissed and Isaiah left with the phone, ringing our mom.
I waited until he was out of the office before passing comment. “I can’t believe you’ve still got him working here,” I said.
“He’s not really working,” Santo said, picking the paperweight up again. “In fact, he’s got his own office.”
“The one with the windows papered over?”
He laughed. “I don’t want any of you pervs spying on him.”
“Don’t worry, he’s not my type,” I said, which seemed to offend Santo even more.
“Are you prepared for this weekend?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “I wish I could fucking be there.”
“You can,” I said, then regretted it. I didn’t need him coming by Palazzo right now, especially not with Kalen’s ability to ignore my threats. “But you’re probably best off staying out of the line of sight.”
He nodded. “I know that. You think I don’t know that?” Then he shrugged. “Dad went to them.”
“Because he had a line of succession already planned,” I said. “You.”
“Then you.”
“Then Tomaso,” I said with a laugh.
We both shook our heads. Of course, there were worse things that could happen. Anyone else could take over, or the families surrounding us could really make a move for power—if they hadn’t already, and we just weren’t hearing about it yet.
“Not even the point,” Santo said. “I’ve got to stay out of all that for Isaiah. It’s different thinking of someone else’s happiness.”
My teeth clenched. “Listen, I love that we’re able to be free and shit now, but you don’t have to rub it in my face. Some of us are still working through all the shit Dad put on us.”
“Tomaso more than you,” he said. “So, let’s just be thankful we’re both functioning.”
And with that, I had to think about how to tackle my Kalen problem. There was no way I was putting that out there for Santo. He’d tell me to kill him, tell me to do it somewhere nobody would find him, but I swear the Feds chipped their agents fresh out of the kennel—I mean Quantico.
* * *
I’d expected to see him when I got back to Palazzo and was disappointed when I hadn’t.
Perhaps he’d chickened out of actually playing this game, since I’d seen his mom.
He probably thought I’d take advantage of that relationship to get him to leave, but something about the entire thing told me it was a setup.
Something about it told me that even entertaining laying a finger on his mom would lead to a whole heap of charges on my head—something basic, arrested, and then forced into ratting on someone—which would never happen, but in his world, it was probably something he thought was going to.
Standing at the end of the bar, I had a glass of gin and tonic with some petals or shit in the glass that made me think of the potpourri in my mom’s bathroom. But it added a taste to the gin, a nice taste, surprisingly. I sipped at it, savoring the taste on the back of my tongue.
“What did you tell that kid?” Lorna asked, whipping a towel over her shoulder.
“What kid?”
“You know who I’m talking about,” she said. “He’s not turned up for his shift.”
I sipped from my glass to hide the smile, but Lorna waited for me to respond. “Doesn’t he strike you as someone who’s overqualified?”
She shrugged. “He’s just here to help his mom,” she said. “If you knew that, you’d probably be a little more sympathetic. I love it when kids come back to town, wanting to be in their folks’ lives again. It’s sweet.”
Sickly. It was impossible to know if that was true, since he stunk of Fed, and yet, none of my contacts had any information on any ongoing investigation into the family. Most had died off with my dad, which was one good thing he did for the family in death.
Lorna continued, saying that since family meant a great deal to me—the Bianchi family were the entire reason I was alive, of course family was everything—I had to give him a hand if he was only here for his mom.
But there was something about him. That bratty approach he had with his hands on my body and the attitude, it just made me want to do those things I knew he was internally begging for .
. . on his knees, begging, and stripped naked to make sure there were no wires.
“I’m gonna call him,” Lorna said in the absence of my words.
“You should just let him show up and then see what’s going on if and when he does show up,” I told her. “And I don’t know how long that will take, but when he comes in, I want to talk with him.” I took my glass of gin from the bar.
“You’re not making a whole lot of sense, Rocco,” she said with a laugh.
Kalen had gotten into my head—just like I knew he’d tried to do. I bit the tip of my tongue and nodded. “I still wanna talk to him when he comes in,” I said, then corrected myself. “If, if he comes in, because he might’ve just wanted the one night, gotten his tips and left.”
Lorna sighed. “Fine, I’ll see if I can get some more people to come in and work.”
We had a high turnover rate. People got spooked by the rumors of who they were working for, and it was something nobody wanted to be around, but some people, the ones who chased being close to criminals, they were the types of people to come in, almost like they were tourists.
And then there was the wort type of person.
The one looking for a story, for a scoop, or worse, for a fucking police investigation.
I got back to my office with my gin in one hand, and I walked toward my office desk where I’d imagined having some twinky bottom ready and waiting for me under it, someone who could surprise me with a little blow job.
I needed a little something like that around this time of the day, after seeing my brother in love, and being teased by a soft, gentle hand.
I didn’t really want him to stop when we’d found each other in the secondhand store, but he did, mostly because I’d actually taken his hand by the wrist, and I’d wished for things I knew couldn’t happen with the person he was.
Finishing my gin, I talked to the high rollers coming into the Palazzo this weekend.
We got a cut of it, which is why it was important that none of them were spooked.
It was normal for me to call them, to check in, make sure they were liquid for the weekend, and if not, they needed the deeds to properties ready and waiting. High stakes meant high stakes.
Just as I finished a call, a knock came at the door.
I didn’t know how long it had been, but it must’ve been a while since I was feeling the incredible buzz of my second gin and tonic of the day. The first one had been much sweeter. I was hoping this was the third. “Come in,” I called out, tapping the sleep button to close the computer screen.
Kalen stood at the door of my office with his huge grinning face, in a nice black shirt, carrying a large Tupperware box. He presented it first, walking toward me. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I promised my ma I’d eat dinner with her.”
“I told you not to come in,” I said behind gritted teeth.
“And yet, I felt like you wanted me here,” he said, placing the Tupperware on the desk. “I also brought you dinner, since you couldn’t make it and all. It’s beef stew and biscuits. Although they might’ve submerged a little on the drive over.”
Through the nibble of my teeth, my tongue wiggled free. “You’re walking a dangerous tightrope,” I said. “And it won’t be long until someone around you brings you to me, telling me that you’re a Fed.”
“But I’m not,” he said, pulling out silverware wrapped in white and gold Palazzo tissue. “I’m just here because I wanna be close to my mom, and I’m sorry you don’t believe me. If I were a Fed, do you think I’d come back here? I need the money. I need the work.”
I knew he was lying through his teeth, but I couldn’t prove it. “So, you’ve decided to poison me?”
He rolled his eyes, plucking the sides of the Tupperware free. The smell of it was heavenly. “I’ll take the first bite, then you’ll know it’s not poisoned. But I really think you’ll like it, and maybe you’ll stop thinking I’m out to get you.”
Looking him up and down, the Fed stink was undeniable, and if it wasn’t the stink, it would be that I’d seen his face on CCTV.
He’d worked on a case, helping out a friend who was set to turn over secrets on some big pharma company.
Unless he had a twin, which he didn’t. I’d already dug into him, but really, I’d just scratched the surface.
“What do you want?” I asked him.
“To work, to make money, to be—someone you can respect enough to stop calling a Fed,” he said, as if it was prepared, waiting for him to say like a pull-string toy. “I’m here to be close to my mom, and sure, I’m overqualified, but not where it counts.”
I hummed and inhaled the smell of the food, and my stomach growled at it.
It practically called me weak in front of him.
“I told you if you came back, I’d have Lorna work you to the bone,” I said through a growl almost. “So, set the utensils down, leave my office, and go apologize to Lorna for being late. Then, and just maybe then, I’ll let you out in the morning. ”
He nodded, presenting a salute with two fingers. “Yes, Sir.”
And just like that, the words slipped off my tongue. “Good boy.”
Kalen’s shoulders shimmied, as if he’d been waiting for it. He didn’t say another word, leaving my office just as Lorna arrived with another gin and tonic for me. She wore the biggest grin, almost like she sensed I might’ve just been flirting with him—and perhaps I had.