Page 51 of Kingpin

“This is Israel we’re talking about. You don’t step unless he tells you to. You think he’s going to let me divulge details like that if they happened?”

She sighed. “You’ve got a point. And you’re probably hardly alone, right?”

I gazed around the empty penthouse. “Hardly, yeah.”

“Well, I can tell you that Daddy isn’t happy at all. He’s wondering what’s taking so long. He promised me I’d be home three weeks ago. What’s going on? Can I help at all?”

“I mean, it’s not like you’re running out of money, right?”

“There hasn’t been a deposit for a while if that’s what you’re asking.”

So, Uncle Pava hasn’t gotten to her. The lack of money has.

“I’m working as diligently as I can. But Israel’s astute,” I said.

She snickered. “Go figure. Big ol’ asshole, that man.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Uh, have you heard the stories I’ve heard?”

“Have you met the man in person? Had a conversation with him? Gotten to know him at all?”

She paused. “Do I have to in order to know the man’s a torturous tyrant? I mean, he killed three of our enforcers! Isn’t that enough?”

I furrowed my brow tightly. “How do you know that?”

“Well—I just—he—things float around, Bonnie.”

“Yeah. Around here. You're in Hawaii.”

“Shh! He could be tapping this phone conversation.”

“Andthat’swhat you’re worried about? After everything you’ve said?”

She scoffed. “Why did you really call then, Bonnie?”

“Well, if he’s tapping the phone lines, he knows my name now.”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I called to check in on you. Make sure you're doing okay. Something you haven’t done for me once since you jetted off to Hawaii in the first place. Aren’t we sisters?”

“We’re cousins.”

My heart shattered. “So, you’ve never seen me as part of the family in the first place.”

She sighed. “That isn’t what I—”

“Thanks for the truth. At least I owe you for that.”

Disgusted, I hung up the phone.

It kept ringing and ringing, which caused me to silence it altogether. I made my way into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine. I’d been doing that more than eating. I’d lost six pounds over the past week, living off wine and cheese instead of actual sustenance. I didn’t care, though. My personal plan was slowly coming together. I logged into my new portal for my bank account and locked it down as much as I could. I put every obscure password and passcode I could on it and didn’t name one single beneficiary for the account. I opened up an aggressive investment account in my name and put in one hundred grand, hoping to see it grow over the coming years while I was on the run. As I calculated what I could really take from the penthouse before I left, I figured I’d have two hundred grand in my pocket in cash once I sold it all off.

That would hold me for a while and pay for a college education.

I walked aimlessly back into the living room and scooped up my phone. Halfway into my second glass of wine, and already I felt uneasy on my feet. I slid out of my heels and padded over to the tinted windows. I gazed out over Chicago and thought about where I might want to go. I’d have change my name. Possibly dye my hair and lie low for a while. I thought about a few places I could go where no one would look for me, but it still required a great deal of preparation.

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