Page 52 of His Passerotta

“Not until you talk to me,” he pushes. A little too hard. Much more, and I won’t be able to help but kick his ass. I’m already fuming.

“Look, I forgive you, okay? I don’t want to talk about your job or whatever you’ve been doing lately. We’re good.”

“You said you wanted to know.”

“I changed my mind.”

The fridge opens and closes a few moments later.

“Corey.”

There’s a long sigh. “I have to tell you something,” he says, regret in his tone. Maybe he cheated on her. That would be ironic.

“No, you don’t,” Bailey insists. Forcefully. Too forcefully.

What the fuck is up with her?

My phone dings, and I’m kind of glad for it. I hope I’m caught.

“What was that?” Corey asks.

“Nothing. Probably just a notification from a news app or something.”

“I thought the mobsters crushed your phone.”

My entire body tenses.

What?

She told him? This fucking guy, whoever he is? She fucking told him what happened?

Is she fucking stupid?

Does she have any idea how many reasons she’s given people to kill her?

And she just keeps adding to the list.

“I’m borrowing a friend’s phone. Look, I really don’t want to talk right now. Please, just go.”

Forcing my jaw to unclench, I slide my cell from my pocket. It’s a message from Settimo that just says, ‘call me.’

I silence the phone then slip it back into my pocket.

Corey sighs loudly. “Fine. But call me in the morning, okay? I want to make this right. And here.” Something knocks on the table. “It’s just a temporary burner, but it’s something. Give your friend her phone back.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I wasn’t, I… I’m just trying to help.” My eyes narrow. There’s a whiny characteristic to Corey’s voice that makes me question if he’s a man or a boy.

Pussy.

“I know…” Bailey sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

It’s quiet for several moments, but finally, “Okay… Pancakes?”

“Sounds good.”

Footsteps sound again, but this time, they’re retreating.

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