“Boss, we’ve got an issue.” I’ve barely sat down when Marco walks into the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee after he drops that loaded statement.
“What’s that?” Any given day, there’s anywhere from five to ten men going in and out of the house, well, mansion, if you ask Dante, but it’s not. Two stories tall, six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a media room, my office, a pool big enough to be on one of those home design shows, and it sits on five acres. The only difference from the other houses in the area is that it’s completely fenced in by concrete walls, and men patrol the perimeters every waking second. Things have been good for five years now—no big territory wars, no one stabbing the Russo family in the back, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.
“A shipment has gone missing. It’s got Lorenzo’s handiwork written all over it.” I slam my glass down, the juice sloshing over, pissing me off.
“That fuck-up. I should have sent him back to Italy in a body bag. Let me go grab my phone, then we’ll leave.” I stand up, pissed off that I’m still fixing his fuck-ups and knowing today is going to be longer than yesterday was. No wonder my dad was gray by the age of forty, an age that is knocking on my door in only a few months.
CHAPTER 5
HENLEY
“Okay, my little girl is smilin’. What are you up to now?” Dad kisses the side of my head as we all sit down to eat dinner. He’s not wrong; I did what I was set out to do today and have the keys to my new apartment.
“I did something today. You and Mom might not like it, but I need to do it. Things are going well. I’m in remission, and as much as I love you guys, we all need to go on living. Jackson is with Sailor or at the club nine times out of ten. I’m twenty-eight, and if things keep going like they are, I need to get back out on my own again. I miss having my own place, so I signed a lease on an apartment in town today.” You can hear a pin drop in the house. Sailor, Jackson, Mom, and Dad are sitting in their places around the dinner table with their mouths hanging wide open and in shock. Well, maybe not Sailor, but she’s definitely putting on a good show for me, thank goodness.
“Don’t you think this is too soon?” Those are Mom’s words. I get her worry. Well, let me take that back. I understand her concern. I’ve never had a daughter with cancer, so I can’t really say that.
“Not really. You and Dad both raised us to be fiercely independent. It kind of goes with the territory of being raised in the MC.” I take a bite of the mashed potatoes, hating that everything still tastes like metal a month later. The foods I once loved all taste like shit, but if I don’t eat though and lose weight, well, let’s just say Mom will probably block off the exits to every window and door to the house.
“Sadie.” Dad gives her that tone, the one where he says we’ll talk about it later. “I’m not too thrilled you’re leavin’, but I get it. At least this time, it’s not ten fuckin’ states away and I can get to you in minutes instead of hours. That being said, I think it’s time you get a car if you’re goin’ to be livin’ in town.”
“That’s next on my list, but I’d like you to go with me for that. An apartment is one thing; even if I had to tell the apartment manager that I saw through his bullshit of showing me an apartment with zero sunlight. She changed her ways as soon as I told her I’d be back with my family and name-dropped.” I may be battling my own depression over things thrown my way that I had no idea were coming, but I can clearly hold my own.
“Atta girl,” Jackson says between a mouthful of fried chicken. I roll my eyes but smile just the same.
“You sure you’re ready to be out on your own again?” Mom asks. My gaze goes to hers. I never put my wig back on. Truth be told, my hair is growing out slowly; right now, it looks like I have a buzz cut. The wrap around my head, courtesy of Aunt Fallon and her penchant for thrifting, has really helped so much so that I’ll probably still wear them when my hair does decide to grow back in all the way.
“I love you, Mom. Just because I’m not living with you and Dad anymore doesn’t mean that I won’t be at your dinner table at least two times a week. Plus, we called and texted every day when I lived ten states away.” I use air quotes while saying that, making Dad grumble that the women in his life give him too much shit and it’s a wonder he’s not grayer than he is, or bald.