Page 7 of Hustle

“Fun like the Carneys?” I reach for a garlic knot and pop it into my mouth. Butter, garlic, and salty bread explode into the best flavor I’ve tasted in years.

The moment breaks, and something passes over her eyes.

“They’re doers, Seamus. You’re all talk.” She grabs another piece of pizza and bites into it with a ferocity that’s not directed at the pizza.

I try not to imagine her biting me with the same intensity.

“I get shit done too, Evelyn. I’m just smart about it.”

It was the wrong thing to say. But I don’t care in that moment. Something in me wants to hit a nerve, strike a chord, remind her who she’s dealing with.

“I’m an idiot, then? You are such an arrogant asshole, Seamus. It’s why none of those ice-blonde rich girls you date ever stick around. You come around this neighborhood acting like your shit don’t stink and think you can talk to me like that, Mr. Harvard Law School? Fuck you,” she starts to shove out of the booth.

“I told you I’ll be taking care of this myself.”

Why has Evelyn been paying attention to who I’ve been dating? I reach out and wrap my fingers, as gently as I can, around her wrist.

“Evelyn,” I begin.

“Evi,” she snaps. “You don’t get to change my name.”

“Evi,” I concede. “Can we just try to work together? Please?”

She’s just about to throw the pizza in my face when the front door jingles open. For a second, I’d been so wrapped up in this argument, so wrapped up in Evi, that I’d forgotten where we are. The kind of mistake that a man like me can never afford.

As the man walks in, it takes a second to recognize him: one of Stacy’s goons. A city inspector on his payroll. I’m sure he’s here to find some violations.

“Jerry,” I say smoothly, sliding out of the booth. “What brings you to my neighborhood on this fine evening?”

My smile is wolfish.

Jerry stops, his droopy jowls shaking in surprise as his mouth opens. “Mr. Doyle. What are you doing here?”

Good. I always enjoy the element of surprise.

“Jerry, you know this is my neighborhood,” I walk toward him, reaching out to pat his shoulder. He’s not much to look at, but his power isn’t in his body. It’s in his ability to shut down places, sometimes legitimately, sometimes not.

His eyes flash defiantly, and he wrenches away from my touch. I don’t back up to give him space.

“I was just coming for…” his eyes track from Evelyn to Rico, who both glare. “My wife ordered some pizza, but I think it may be from another shop.”

The edge dissolves into discomfort. Perfect.

“And how is Carol?” I ask, giving him an expansive smile. “I hope she’s not still spending all her time at the card tables. It’s shocking the kind of debt you can get into at those establishments.” The state’s new gambling operations have sent quite a few people my family’s way for help, and Carol still owes my family quite a bit of money.

Our eyes meet, and after a long second he looks away in submission.

“She’s great, Mr. Doyle. Just great. Anyway, I’d better go. Good seeing you,” He nods at Rico, scurrying out like the rat he is.

Evelyn sighs as she steps up next to me. Her nearness distracts me from the sense that victory, that what I want, is within reach. Jerry’s little surprise visit couldn’t have been timed better.

“I guess working together might be okay, Doyle.”

I try not to smirk at her. “Let’s get a box for that pizza.”

3

Evi

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