Page 10 of Lorenzo

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It was giving me a headache. Laying on the couch in the family room, I tried to tune out the bickering brothers who couldn’t decide what movie to watch.

“How about Dear John?”

“No.”

“Steel Magnolias?”

“No.”

“Tangled?”

“How old are you?” Marko sighed.

“Hey!” Enzo scoffed. “Say what you want but it was a great movie. It has everything, action, comedy, drama. It’s the perfect movie.”

“It’s a cartoon.”

“So?”

Those two had been going at it for an hour now. They were exhausting. Closing my eyes, I had just begun to relax when someone rang the doorbell. Sighing, I grabbed a couch pillow and covered my head, praying whoever it was would just go away.

Marko headed for the front door as he shouted, “You suck at picking movies!”

“Do not!” Enzo replied, then added under his breath. “Not my fault you can’t appreciate good cinematography.”

“Neither can you,” I muttered.

“Uh, Lorenzo!” Marko shouted from the front foyer.

“What!”

“I need you to come here.”

“Why?” I shouted, sitting up, leaning over the back of the couch as a beautiful woman with chestnut hair walked into the room. She was stunning. Her lightly sun-kissed skin glistened and the spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose looked adorable. Her gorgeous caramel eyes stared directly at me, awakening something so profound I had forgotten was even there. I could tell whoever this was, she wasn’t happy to be here. In fact, she looked pissed.

Getting up from the couch, I walked over to her and smiled. I wasn’t unfamiliar with angry women. Hell, I dealt with them daily. It was what I did. I loved the ladies and when I was done with them, I kicked them to the curb.

It was a mutual agreement.

They got one night in heaven and that was it.

No do-overs, no seconds.

I gave the pretty woman my megawatt smile, “Hello.”

“Are you Mr. Valentinetti?”

And just like that, my smile faded. Sighing, I turned away from her. I should have known she wasn’t here to see me. Everyone wanted to see Gio. He was the head of the family after all. He got all the good visitors. Plopping back down on the couch, I replied, “No. He’s not here. Come back later.”

Apparently, the woman was hard of hearing because the moment I put the couch pillow back over my eyes, she yanked it away, throwing it across the room. “It’s you! I called you twice!” she shrieked.

Looking up at the irate woman, I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t even know you. Why would you call me?”

“Because my sister works for you, jackass!”

“Huh?” I said, sitting up. “I don’t know your….” I muttered as a tingle of fear snaked down my spine. I took a closer look at the woman before me. She didn’t look like anyone I knew and I knew a lot of people. I could tell she wasn’t from Chicago with her southern accent and I sure as hell didn’t know anyone from the south except Layla.

“My sister. Penny. Where is she?”


Tags: Rebecca Joyce Crime