Page 120 of A Dirty Business
Well, fuck Trace.
It’d been three months and no word, and my life was calm. Quiet. Steady. Val was entertainment every day through morning sickness, and she was starting to gain weight. She’d skipped her family’s Easter, so there’d been no word from her cousin. Also, Kelly and Justin got over whatever hitch they’d had.
I was a regular fixture on Sundays at Easter Lanes again.
Bear and Leo both checked in with me, and my mom was doing good. Course, I didn’t believe a word they said, but it was what it was. I wasn’t getting cursed over the phone on a weekly basis.
I was almost glowing.
Work was the same. Same people going on parole. Most hating me. Travis was still a dick.
Yep. Familiarity was good. Boring. Boring was good.
Boring.
Blah.
Bleh.
Fuck Trace.
“Did you see this?” A newspaper was dropped on the table in front of me as Kelly slid into the chair across from me.
See. We were these friends, meeting for lunch again. Not boring. Steady. Stable.
I was becoming a somewhat healthy individual.
“What is this?”
“Page three. Also, I need to grab a hero before Mrs.Kappaleweitz gets the last good bread. You’re going down today, Mrs.Kappaleweitz. Down.” She was off, shoving through the crowd toward the counter. We weren’t in a normal diner. I needed some excitement. The deli on Seventy-Fifth was all about loud customers and orders being yelled out, and some days there was a shoving match. One could only hope for the shoving match.
I turned to page 3, wanting to know what Kelly wanted me to see.
New Mafia Head?
The headline was large and in bold print, along with a picture of Trace and Ashton underneath.
Holy shit!
I jerked forward, skimming over the article. It said there had been a major shake-up in both the West and Walden Mafia families. New heads were thought to be stepping up, as there’d been recent shootings at a warehouse, listed to be controlled by the West family.
A full workup was done about Trace. They were using his first name of Tristian, so they didn’t know about his name preference. They talked about his schooling, his work on Wall Street. He’d been on the crew team when he was at Yale. Why was I not surprised?
There were more pictures of him leaving another nightclub. With a woman by him.
Another image, another woman.
After the third woman, I flipped the paper over.
Fuck. Him.
A headache was forming behind my forehead.
This was good news. He was obviously moving on. He’d chosen when I couldn’t, and good. Great. Wonderful. Just, fuck him to the highest mountain and ram an ice pick up his ass.
“Can you believe that?” Kelly was back, her hero in hand, and she gestured to the paper.
“What’d you do? Kill Mrs.Kappaleweitz? That was record time.”
