Page 23 of Insurgent

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, getting up. They both head into the kitchen and I’m grateful. I’d like to have a private conversation with my older brother.

“How’s business?” I ask him.

“Fine,” he says. “Trying to pass a new bill.”

“Oh yeah? On what?”

He chuckles. “Nothing that benefits you.”

I nod with a smirk.

“What about you, Danny? Or should I say Bones?” he says lowly.

I lick my lips, placing my cup on the table. “Business is better than ever.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Really.” I nod.

I link my fingers together, looking down at the tablecloth. Paul doesn’t know too much about what I do. He knows enough, but it’s better that he doesn’t know details. In case someone questions him, he won’t have to lie, even though he’s great at it. He is a politician, after all.

“Well, don’t beat around the bush, boy. Ask me what you wanna ask before they come back in here.”

“Just want to make sure everything’s quiet,” I say, getting to the point. One thing about having a brother who’s now the mayor of Postings is he has connections and he’s friends with the DA.

He nods. “I haven’t heard anything concerning.”

“Good,” I say.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, folding his newspaper.

“Go for it,” I reply, grabbing a piece of bacon.

He straightens his tie. Paul’s aged around the eyes. His hair’s short, neat. His nails are manicured. We’ve come a long way from being shirtless in the streets, playing stick ball.

“When are you getting out of this shit? It’s been some years now. Don’t you want to start a family of your own?”

I chew my food slowly as I think on this. I tried to get out once, but I was foolish in thinking it would be as easy as walking into Moretti’s office and telling him I was done. I only got a gun to my head for that. Now I’m so far in, it seems impossible to ever slip out.

“I could help, you know?”

I smile, knowing that’s not likely. Moretti would find me, and he’d have too many people willing to help. I have enemies and he would use that against me. I have people who’d like nothing more than to see me six feet under, my eyes coinless.

You don’t bend the law without getting blood on your hands. We’re in the heroin trade and business is thriving; therefore, you have people who want a piece of it. When you’re doing well, others want to be involved. When you haven’t got a pot to piss in, people seem to disappear. It’s the way of the world.

“Maybe one day,” I say to Paul.

“You know she’s happy now,” he says. “It’s time you were happy, too.”

“I am happy.”

“Are you, though?” My brother and I lock eyes, but we let that question go unanswered.

Samuel and Ma walk back. “Eggs are ready,” Ma says. “Let’s say grace.”

I’m happy she didn’t see me eating a piece of bacon already or I would have gotten a slap on the hand. We three bow our heads, hold hands, and Ma gets on with the blessing.

I smile to myself as I think about Paul’s concern for me. It’s always nice to sit with my family and share a meal, and it’s nice to catch up with my brothers and hear Ma’s laugh. I turn down the street that Bex works on and park the car just far enough so she can’t see me.

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