“Goodnight, Barrett.” I climb the steps before slipping into the bathroom, pulling off my suit in a sweaty struggle and quickly taking a cold shower. I change back into my pajamas, still strewn across the floor after my shower, and towel dry my hair so it’s not dripping everywhere. Heading back to my room, I replay the events of the past ten minutes. As I open the door to my room, I wish my empty bed was not empty. Wish Koa was here to talk about this shit-show of a mission. We’d laugh about the stupid conflicts of men and their issues with being ordered around by women. He’d tell me I’m brave— he always told me I’m brave— and I’d tell him he was flattering me. But after hearing him encourage me for so many years, so consistently, I think I started to believe it. Even now, I think I still believe it.
I hope he’d be proud of me. Proud of what I’m doing.
It’s odd— this whole mission— because I feel rather intrigued by Odessa’s hate for the San Giovannis. I’m not trying to question my orders, but for such a strong family, it seems they would make better allies than enemies.But what do I know?Really. What do I actually know about them?
I know Romeo is thoughtful, a gentleman, clearly charming enough to be an expert with his lips and hands (among other things, I’m sure).
There is no sense in focusing on that, though. I know I’m just setting myself up for confusion if I don’t stop questioning the job I’ve been given. The path I’m on is going to lead to my dreams coming true, so I just have to keep reminding myself that.
This is it. This is my time to shine. I will not stop until I’ve gotten everything I want— not for anything or anyone.
12
ROMEO
Afew days have passed since the bombing incident that left everyone in my family perplexed. Do we have a Russian on our side? Was the bombing even a Russian attempt on us, or are we being pursued by someone else? It wouldn’t be too far-fetched, considering our initiative has ruffled more feathers than just Odessa’s.
Surprisingly, Vince wasn’t angry when we got home that night. We told him everything, and he was actually thankful that I had made the call. So thankful that he took me off patrol and gave me a team focused solely on making alliances with willing mafia families and gangs throughout the LA area. It’s still not my dream position of action, but at least it’s not night patrol. I will say that rare occasion of action the other night was something for the books.
Our entire house has been talking about it at every meal. I’m sort of a hero to them now. Everyone seems to take me more seriously than before, and I’m not complaining. I went head-to-head with an enemy, weaponless, and survived. Meanwhile, allowing our entire team to get out before anyone got hurt. I’ll admit, I do feel a little like a fraud, considering all I did was run away when I was told by my attacker. But, it got me on a normal sleep schedule and ready for this weekend with Lydia, so I can’t think about it too much.
“Happy Friday!” Knox sing-songs to the entire dining room, still in his pajamas, like the rest of us. Well, everyone except Vince. I think he sleeps in Armani suits.
“Morning,” everyone mumbles back into their food. There’s not a ton of enthusiasm this morning because apparently, Vince is requiring everyone but me to go to this training mission to better deal with the Russian's continual attacks. We had a few more this week— a car bomb down at Neptune holdings that made Antonio and Stella decide to head to Key West for a little while until we resolve the rising tensions. They can do business from there, I guess. Lucky. That’s really what I should call Antonio.
“Alright, treaty team,” Vince claps enthusiastically. “How are we doing?” I swallow my scone as all eyes pan to me.
“Great. Today we’re meeting with the south-siders for lunch and legal terms.” I say, and Vince gives it a thumbs up.
“Good. Keep me updated.” He’s been a lot happier since the incident. I’m uncertain if it's because he senses that I’ve been trying more since it happened— I have— or because he realized I’m not a waste of space who isn't concerned about the welfare of our family. Regardless of the reason, it's nice to see him less uptight.
When breakfast is finished, we all head off to get changed into our business attire for the mission. I grab my forest green, silk Gucci suit with raised stitching detail of trees covering the span of it. Underneath, I choose a simple white AMIRI button-up with wood buttons, a skinny black tie, and Louis Vuitton black pointed-toe boots. After I’ve doused myself in cologne I got from this handmade cologne shop off King Street downtown, I run my hands through my wild dark hair and head down to the first-floor foyer.
“Come on, boys. We’re gonna be late.” I check my gold Cartier watch to see we’re about a minute from leaving if we want to be on time. And byon time, I mean fifteen minutes early.
It’s the way Vince does it and the way we’ve been taught. We don’t all follow it, but for shit like this, we have to. No excuses. If you’re not there fifteen minutes before the meeting, you’re late.
The boys file to the front door one by one within the next minute, and we’re out the door, shoving ourselves into one car that Knox drives. There’s other missions going on today that require countless vehicles. I try not to think of those missions because I'll get jealous that they’re going around town guns-a-blazing while we eat lunch at a five-star restaurant on the water.
I check my phone as we drive to see Lydia has messaged me a few times. Because of not needing to be out all hours of the night on patrol, I was able to see her a few more times this week. We actually fell asleep the other night while we were on the phone talking. I try not to read into it too much because, after all, I enjoy her company. Nothing wrong with that. I’m going to be around her all of next month; I should at least like her. Then there’s the fact that all of this is going perfectly according to the plan, and sleeping with her should be a piece of cake soon enough.
My one-and-done thing might be a little weird if I sleep with her this weekend, but honestly, it’s not a giant deal. I’ve worked with women I’ve slept with before, and all of them are chill about it. Seems like Lydia would be the same. She is so quick with her words, feisty and funny— a good combo to have, obviously hot, a superb storyteller, and I don’t know how else to say it, but we just completely vibe with each other.
It’s like we’re on the same wavelength. We finish each other's sentences and make jokes with one another that I couldn’t make with another girl. It’s nice; I’m having fun, that’s it. No need to read into it any further.
We arrive at the docks before I realize we’ve crossed into Malibu, and everyone unloads from the car. The central dock extends far into the water, where a large restaurant hovers over the waves. Its white wood walls reflect the bright sun sparkling off the waves. Birds are chirping as they fly into our view and over our heads. It's serene here, and I’m certain by the end of the night, we’ll be able to win over the south-siders gang. I feel it in my gut.
We walk along the sand and up to the middle dock, heading down the brown sun-aged wood lined with lampposts that turn on right as we begin our walk to the doors of the restaurant.
“Oceanside.” Knox nudges me, and I raise my brows, confused.
“What?”
“That’s what the restaurant is called— Oceanside.” He nods like he’s telling me to get what he’s talking about.
“Oh.” I laugh and scratch the back of my head. He’s a character when he warms up to you. I laugh to myself about it as we approach the entrance. The glass sliding doors part for the group of us, and before we say anything, the hostess knows who we are.
“Right this way.” She smiles. This is something I’ve liked all week. People knowing who we are and where we are going without us needing to lift a finger. It’s a nice feeling, one that I think it’s probably productive for me to get used to. I’m in this mafia family for life, might as well get accustomed to being in charge and commanding what has to happen.