Page 5 of Choices

"This was stupid. A little weed isn’t going to fix fifteen years of losing myself. This was stupid, and it almost got me killed. I should be grateful for my current life. I have everything I could ever want…I think. My bills are paid for. I have a big, beautiful home, and three wonderful children, and I don’t have to work. Lots of people want what I have and here I am complaining."

I turn on the lounger, placing my feet on the ground and my elbows on my knees.

"Just because people have it worse doesn't mean you can't feel what you feel. Yes, you have a lot more than most, but you don't have happiness. You don't have dreams. You don't have hope. You're a woman, alone, out to sea, and that's something to be sad about."

She opens her eyes, glassy now, but raw, honest, and takes a long, slow look at me. I know what she must see - a gangster, a thug. Black hair shaved short because I don't have time to give a shit about appearances, black t-shirt, blackjeans, black tattoos from my neck down to my knuckles. I'm the epitome of bad news.

But she relaxes.

"What's it like being a drug dealer?" She asks.

I chuckle. The question is so unexpected it catches me off guard. "I'm not really a drug dealer, mami, I'm the jefe."

"The boss."

One side of my mouth quirks up into a grin.

"Yeah, Princess, the boss." I turn to settle back into the lounger. I guess it's time for my confessional.

I don't know if it's the weed, the night, or the fact that this soccer mom has zero agenda or even understanding of my life, but I get the urge to open up to her.

"It's hard. It's moving people and products around, sending messages, and defending territory. It's maintaining what we have without constantly fighting the assholes who want to take it. And everyone wants to take from me - my time, my money, my assets, my territory." I let out a similar sigh to hers and realize just how tired I am as well.

"And what do you get in return?"

I raise an eyebrow at her.

"If everyone's always taking and taking, what are you getting in return?"

I shake my head. Fuck. Nothing. I get to know that the people I'm responsible for are provided for, even if they'll never be 100% safe. I can make my enemies fear retribution if they go against me or any of my people, but that'll never stop everyone.

I guess that's somethingme and Suzie Homemaker have in common. She's got her kids as a reward, and I'm sure they are rewarding, but kids are also demanding as hell and a ton of work - if you care and want to do a good job. And it seems like she does.

I let my mind wander a bit, ruminating on how I got here, and if it was worth it, until I hear faint snoring coming from next to me.

I look over at Suzzy Homemaker, where she has her cheek still resting against her knees, her lips parted in a sexy little pout as she snores.

I laugh, maybe my first genuine laugh in a long time, before gently taking the can and weed from her hands.

I go into the kitchen and bury the weed and can under some trash in the trash can before reaching into her purse and pocketing the rest of the baggy. I didn't like the idea of her smoking alone. I wasn't really worried about her drowning in her pool. It just seems so fucking sad.

I go back outside and squat beside her, slipping one arm under her knees and one against her back before slowly lifting her.

"Alright, Princess, let's get you back to your tower," I whisper, noticing how her head lolls against my chest and how her hair is inches from my face.

I could just move an inch and kiss her hair. And no one would know.

So, I do.

I've never been romantic with any of my partners. Never had the time nor the inclination. I knew they either slept with me for the thrill of it or the power. They didn't give a shit about me, no matter how good they thought their acting skills were.

But they also knew I'd need to marry and produce an heir. Such were our outdated, old-school rules that kept the underworld running.

Without an heir, there would be warring factions for the next head. Warring factions meant we were all weaker as an organization. Things got messy, and it opened the doors for coups or takeovers.

I learned early on not to associate with women who had that certain gleam in their eye - the one that said they saw the power and the money that came with being my wife.

The women eager for a quick, no-strings-attached-fuck were the ones to go with.

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