That was less painful than I thought it would be. With his blessing in my head, Brynn
and I make our goodbyes and head home.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the threats, Brynn?” I ask as soon as we are in the car and
on the way back to Manhattan. “You lied to me.”
“I did not want to scare you off. I have some baggage,” she replies.
“Baggage or not, I don’t scare easily. You can tell me anything. How long has this been going on?”
“It started about a week before I left, then randomly throughout the year, and it started back up after the first night we were together. I can’t figure out how he got my new number though. That’s what has been really bugging me.”
“How often?” I ask, focusing on the road. It’s clear to me that it’s an inside job, but I keep my suspicions to myself.
“Daily. Sometimes more,” she admits.
“Son of a bitch, Cherry. I could have helped you,” I say.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you could have. It’s complicated.”
“I see,” I say sharply. I am afraid Brynn is never going to need me, and I don’t like that one fucking bit.
The rest of the ride back to the apartment is quiet. In the elevator, I speak briefly with Annika Hale, the renovation girl from TV. She just did something disgraceful, or so they say, so the press has been hanging out front more than usual. They are always here, with so many famous people in the building, but now it is a little out of control. It’s the worst when Senator Anderson is in residence. Thankfully, he only lives here when the Senate isn’t in session.
“Oh, my God,” she says as soon as he steps on the elevator.
“What?” I ask.
“I cannot believe I just met Annika Hale,” she says.
“She’s a nice lady,” I reply tersely.
“Please do not be mad at me, babe,” she replies softly, touching my arm.
“I am not mad. I promise,” I say, taking her hand. While I am not mad, per se, I am not happy that she doesn’t think I can help her. I want her to come to me when things are hard.
“I love you,” she says as we walk toward the front door.
“I love you too, but I want you to know that you can come to me with anything. Anything at all.”
“I know that now,” she says solemnly.
The next day I head into the office. Around noon, I walk over to Jerry and Sons; the deli Bartolo chose for lunch. When I arrive, he is already seated, but he stands to shake my hand when I approach the table.
“Hey Bartolo, thanks for meeting me,” I say as I sit down.
“Please, call me Bart. It’s really no problem. I brought a resume like you asked,” he says, sliding it over to me.
“I already made my decision. I would like for you to be my VP of Design and Merchandising.”
“Wow, dude. I was not expecting anything that high up, but I accept. I do feel that I should tell you—because I am sure that Brynn hasn’t—that my family is mafia. Putting me in this position would open you up to scrutiny. If you’d rather not hire me, then I get it, I really do.”
“Well, so much about last night makes sense now,” I say, laughing, now that I have confirmation of what I thought I knew. “But seriously, thank you for telling me, but I am still okay with my decision. Are you able to talk about it so openly though?”
“Absolutely not. Never talk about it. I have added you to my inner circle. It wouldn’t be right to keep my boss out of the loop on something so dangerous. Secrets get you killed, Brendan. Remember that. It’s the number one rule.”
“I understand.”
“Did Brynn already tell you or something? Why aren’t you freaking out?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“She didn’t, but it doesn’t matter to me. I had already checked you guys out. You are the right person for the job.”
“What if, hypothetically speaking, of course, I have to kill someone, and I do so. How would that look for your company?”
“Hypothetically speaking, don’t get fucking caught, and there won’t be a problem.”
“Who are you? A ninja or something? You are really taking this in stride,” he says.
“I am just a man in love with a mafia princess. For her, I can handle any damn thing thrown my way.”
“That thick skin will be good in the future. My father said that you want to propose to her.”
“I do. I have it all planned out for her birthday.”
“She will love that,” he says.
I fucking hope so.
Later that night, at home, she giggles loudly from the kitchen as cabinet doors slam shut. “You have beer, wine, some harder stuff if you are interested. Jim, Jack, José, and vodka,” she says after opening the cabinet. “I can make margaritas, though I shouldn’t drink tequila.”