Page 3 of Dirty Deeds

However, I’m not staring at a box full of magnets.

“These are tape measures,” I say, my gaze sliding back to Riggs.

I should note another reason we went with the magnets was that they were the cheapest option. Even when buying in bulk, shit like this gets expensive and the point is to bring money in, not send it flying out of my pocket before I even make it.

“Fuck the magnets,” he says, smacking my hands away from the box. He reaches for one of the tape measures and holds it up like he’s gunning for Vanna White’s job. “Look at these babies!”

Trying to keep my temper in check, I examine the tape measure. The first thing that sticks out is that the logo is all wrong. Instead of the clean-cut graphic of a home, there’s a cartoon looking man with a chiseled chest wearing a hard hat. But that’s not the worst of it…he’s given me a fucking slogan to go with myMagic Mikelooking logo.

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline as I glare at him.

“Because inches matter?Are you fucking kidding me?”

He grins.

“It’s brilliant, right?”

I snatch the tape measure from his hand and toss it back in the box with the others.

“And I spruced up your logo so it fits with your new slogan. Go on, tell me, I’m the fucking man.”

“You’re an idiot is what you are,” I hiss.

“Oh, come on, stop being a sourpuss. This is marketing gold! Picture it…you go on an estimate, and the woman is all hot and bothered by the handsome handyman—”

“Contractor.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Back to my vision… so the woman takes you on a tour of her house, pointing out all the things that needs fixin’, but as she’s doing just that, she is secretly fantasizing about ripping off your toolbelt and mounting you.”

I stare at him blankly, genuinely trying to understand how someone so fucking smart, can be so fucking ignorant at times. He was shot a couple of times—maybe they left a bullet in there and somehow it traveled to his brain.

“She tells you she has to check with her husband first and you hand her the tape measure.” He pauses and points a finger at me. “Make sure you wink at her when you hand it to her, and let your touch linger. Maybe even close your hand around hers for a moment. You got good hands. Big and veiny. Women love big hands.”

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“I may have been told that once or twice. Anyway, you’re missing the point here. When she’s done watching you walk away, she’ll look at the tape measure, see that fucking slogan, and bam! Not only is she gonna conjure up a way to get her husband to agree to hire you, she’s going to spend all night wondering just how many inches you’re packing. The next day, you’ll be hired. I guarantee it.”

He crosses his thick arms against his chest and shoots me a smug grin. Before I can smack it off his face the back door opens, and my brother Nico strolls into the kitchen donning his leather kutte. He looks from me to Riggs, then focuses on my forgotten sandwich.

“Maria called you too?” he asks, making a beeline for the tray of sausage and peppers our stepmother left on the kitchen counter for us to raid.

I love all my father’s ex-wives, but his current wife is quickly climbing the ranks as my favorite. The woman can cook, and she always makes sure to call us when she makes our favorite dishes. Who needs a lunch truck on site when your dad lives in the neighborhood and your stepmom got the good bread from Renato’s bakery? Not me and by the looks of it, not Nico.

“Mama Leone didn’t call me,” Riggs says, drawing my attention back to him.

“That’s your punishment for this disaster,” I deadpan, pushing the box toward him. “I am not giving those fucking things to potential customers.”

He slides the box back to me.

“Yes, you are, because I am the marketing manager of Scotto Construction and I call the shots.”

“The marketing manager,” I parrot, clenching my teeth. My temples pound violently. I wonder if this is how my father felt before he had his heart attack. “You’re not on the payroll, Riggs.”

“That’s because I volunteer my services.”

“What the hell are you two fighting over?” Nico questions as he takes a seat at the table, completely ignoring the box of tape measures as he hunkers down and attacks his sandwich.

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