Page 267 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I pull open the door and turn to look at my older brother. Tall and handsome with a grin that can get him pretty much anything he wants. I’ve seen it in action. My shoulders slump for a second. He could be anything he wants. He has so much zest for life, so much personality. Why would he want to demean himself with this kind of gangster work? Any job that makes you look backward more than forward to make sure nobody is chasing you with a machete isn’t worth it, in my opinion.

“Why don’t ya take a picture? It’ll last longer,” he says with a snicker.

I flip him off and shut the door behind me, silencing the giggle that almost escaped. Can’t do anything to alert Mr. Raynor. Although, this sports bra pushes my boobs up pretty high and gives me some good cleavage. I might be able to buy us another week if I have the unfortunate experience of running into him.

But luck is on my side today.

I make it out of the building without so much as a glimpse of him.

The sunshine warms my face as I step onto the pavement. I rub my hands down my arms as a cool breeze slithers under the moisture-wicking fabric. I begin my jog — crossing over Sherman Avenue and heading in the direction of Inwood Park. When we went apartment hunting after the bank foreclosed on our home, this was one of the only locations we could afford that would actually give us our own space. It’s not glamorous by any stretch, and there’s no way on God’s green Earth that I’d go for a jog in the park after dark — even though daylight is oftentimes sketchy — but it’s home for us.

For now.

And so I carry pepper spr?—

Shit.

I forgot my pepper spray.

I got so rattled by Frankie’s invitation that it went out of my mind completely.

I do have the key in my shoe, though. If I can manage to not hurl all over an assailant, I could get the sneaker off and impale him or her with the tip.

A snicker slips through my lips.

As if.

I pull in a deep breath as I jog along Seaman Street, and everything gets a little greener, a little more lush and fresh. I love this slice of nature. Maybe because it’s an escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday city life. I can come here and lose myself in the foliage, leaving all of my problems back with the hectic street traffic which never seems to calm, regardless of the hour. The Harlem River greets me, the water rippling in the breeze. The top of the water glitters as the light hits the peaks and I break into a run.

I take one of the paths, passing a Little League baseball game on my left as I navigate my way around the park. A twinge of sadness makes my heart clench as I watch the kids running and screaming and cheering for their teammates. I miss being around kids so much. Two hours a week at the community center is not nearly enough for me. My students’ enthusiasm and zest for learning made me excited to go to work every day, to teach them and watch their little faces light up with joy when they connected the dots I’d lay out for them. But I can understand my parents wouldn’t want their kids instructed by the daughter of a convicted murderer. I hate leaving that legacy in my wake, and I’m determined to change it.

Somehow.

People walk their pets, little girls pass me on pink roller skates, and things feel, at least for a little while, normal.

I crave that normalcy every day. It’s one of the reasons why I come here. I don’t care much for the exercise, but it gives me something to do while I people-watch and wonder about their circumstances. My situation isn’t great, but I don’t think I’m the worst off by any stretch.

We’re all struggling in some way.

That’s another reason I love this park.

The silent camaraderie.

It’s comforting and proves I’m not alone in my struggle.

My feet pound harder on the concrete, my shoelaces loosening and flapping against the ground as I run, faster and faster until my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. It’s a welcome release from the stress cloud hanging over me. The muscles in my legs tense and tighten with every step, a cramp in my side warning me that the end is near.

I slow down, collapsing against a chain link fence, wheezing because I never remember to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I turn so my back is plastered against the fence, and I lean my head back as my breathing calms. It takes a while but then again, I have plenty of time.

Regrettably.

When I finally drag myself away from the fence, I tighten my ponytail and head toward the park exit and back to the craziness of the city and my life. This little slice of bliss will be here when I get back.

I remember running through Washington Square Park back in my college days when life was bright and promising and there was no need to escape anything.

I wish I had a damn time machine. A DeLorean. I’d easily find a road where I could hit eighty-eight miles per hour and get the hell out of…well, hell.

I psych myself up for the next leg of my run when I can finally breathe again. I gather speed as I dart through trees in a quieter area of the park. A flash of black catches my eye and I divert from my intended path, cutting around some bushes in pursuit of the perked-up ears that just trotted past me.

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