Page 6 of Sexting the Don

I smirk, momentarily wondering what she might be willing to do for my help. I shake my head. I don't need to play games to get a woman, and I'm not a piece of shit.

Still, something about the name nags at me.Mandy Charles. The surname is familiar, and I wrack my brain to rememberwhere I've heard it before. My thoughts race, piecing together the puzzle. It's then that it clicks—James "Jimmy" Charles.

I pull my laptop out again, typing furiously into the secure database I subscribe to. It's not cheap, but it provides invaluable information. Amanda "Mandy" Charles pops up as the daughter of James "Jimmy" and Florence Charles.

I sit back, absorbing the information. Jimmy works for the Garadinos, which aligns with my earlier suspicions. He's always been a low-level player, trying to make it big without the competence to back up his ambitions. The guy owes one of my men a substantial sum due to a gambling debt, and now he's trying to squeeze his family for help. Typical.

Is Jimmy the cause of Mandy’s distress? Probably. He’s a lowlife who consistently overestimates himself, repeatedly screwing up. That’s why he’s no longer a part of my organization. I kicked him out when he became a liability, preferring to distance myself from his constant troublemaking.

This new piece of information is remarkably interesting. It provides insight into why Mandy reached out. She’s likely desperate, seeking a way out from under her father's mistakes. The fact that she’s coming to me, of all people, signals how dire her situation must be.

I consider my next steps. Helping Mandy would undermine the Garadinos indirectly. Removing their allies, even the less competent ones, would weaken their influence, and by addressing Jimmy’s gambling debt, I’d be reinforcing my own organization's strength, eliminating internal weaknesses.

But beyond the strategic implications, something is intriguing about Mandy herself. She’s caught between her father’s failuresand her own ambitions. Her vulnerability makes her appealing, yet she also demonstrates a surprising amount of bravery, reaching out to me despite the risks involved.

I smile to myself, contemplating the path ahead. Mandy's situation aligns with my interests, and her plea for help provides an unexpected opportunity. It's time to decide how to proceed, balancing my goals with the potential to assist a woman who might be worth more than just a passing glance.

This is all shaping up to be interesting indeed.

Chapter 3

Mandy

“The whole damn city of LA is out there waiting for me, and I’m going to bed.”

I speak the words low under my breath as I sit at the bus stop, waiting for my ride home. The city seems to stretch out forever, a sprawling sea of glittering lights and the faint hum of distant traffic.

From my vantage point in the Hollywood hills, I can see Los Angeles shimmering below. The iconic skyline is illuminated, the buildings glowing like a cluster of stars fallen to earth.

Despite the beauty, there's a sense of disconnect. The neon lights and bustling streets seem a world away from the quiet and solitude of the bus stop. The air is cooler up here, carrying a slight chill. The night feels alive, the city pulsating with an energy that's almost palpable.

Palm trees line the streets, their silhouettes stark against the night sky. The Hollywood sign looms in the distance.

Yet in this small pocket of darkness, I'm alone with my thoughts. Namely, the fact that I need to be up at four-freaking-thirtyin the morning for my personal trainer appointment with none other than Natalie Winters, an up-and-coming actress who seems on the verge of making her big break.

I’ve been in the personal trainer game for a few years, with my dreams set on opening my own gym. Natalie is, by far, the highest-profile client I’ve managed to land. As much as the city’s calling out to me, I need to get home and get to bed.

Natalie was a big get, but the little taste of success has only made me hungrier. With a few more clients like her, I’ll be able to quit waitressing and focus on personal training full-time. And most importantly, I’ll be able to afford a place big enough for my mom to move in with me, a refuge from Jimmy and his endless, chaotic bullshit.

Finally, the bus arrives, coming to a halt in front of me. I hop on, and thankfully, it’s mostly empty. An LA bus at this hour is a total crapshoot—you never know what kind of crazies you might encounter. I sit and get comfortable, the bus lurching forward.

As we wind down from the Hollywood hills, the landscape shifts around me. The elegant mansions and meticulously maintained streets give way to the urban buzz of East Hollywood. The transition from the bright lights to the more grounded atmosphere feels familiar and comforting.

Before too long, the bus arrives at my stop, and I hop out and make my way home.

Our home is small, but it's ours. The exterior may be weathered, with chipped paint and a rickety wooden fence, but it holds a certain charm that I've come to appreciate. Then again, who the hell knows how much longer we’ll be able to say it’s ours? If Jimmy’s screwup manages to pull us under, we might be out onthe street.

Suddenly, Jimmy’s car roars to life and peels out of the driveway, racing down the street and vanishing around the block.

What the hell is going on?

I hurry to the front door, which is slightly ajar. Inside, I hear sobbing. I hurry into the house; the place is a mess. In the kitchen, my mom is sniffling as she wipes up the floor.

“Mom?”

Life’s hardships have etched lines into her face. Despite being beaten down by her years with Jimmy, she carries a resilient grace.

“Oh, hi, sweetie. Careful—there’s glass.”

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