Page 8 of Blinded By The Sun
I shake my head as he sits his big ass down. Out of the three immediate Sarkozy boys, I’m the shortest at 6’4. Boston is 6’6 and Adriano is right in between at 6’5. We run tall in my family.
“Next time, bring coffee.” I glare at him.
“Yeah right. I’m not one of your lackeys. Bring your own damned coffee. Anyway, how are you holding up?” He asks, concern written all over his face.
I shrug. “Fine, I guess. I miss her already, but I’m more upset that I had to kill her. I’m mad she put me in that position. If it was just the drugs, I would’ve thrown her in rehab but no, she put Matteo in Harm’s way. I don’t know how you’re not flipping out, he’s your kid.”
Boston nods sharply. “I don’t need to flip out because you took care of it. Matteo may be a pain in the ass type of kid, but he’s my pain in the ass. You did right by us.”
I scoff. “He’s our pain in the ass. The entire family’s. How’s he holding up?”
Boston rolls his eyes. “The kid is fine. He thinks he’s too good to see a therapist about him getting kidnapped and experiencing light torture. He puts on the tough guy act but I hear him screaming in his dreams every night. For them to stop, I have to hold him. I leave in the early morning once he’s settled since he’s quote-on-quote a big man now.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “He’s like 16.” I shake my head and sober. “But, yeah, getting him a therapist was an excellent idea. He’ll thank you for it later. Is he good in school?”
Boston swipes his palm over his face and scratches his chin, something he used to do when he had a full-on beard. “He’s failing badly but I’m cutting him some slack. I know why he’s having a tough time, that’s why he’s in therapy. I might get him a tutor or some shit.”
“Good. Good. Bring him over sometimes. Maybe a change in scenery will help. I don’t know.” I suggest.
“Speaking of change in scenery, I spoke to Adri after I got off the phone with you. We decided we’re moving in with you.” Boston says casually.
“Wait, what?”
“Yup. You need all the protection you can get and the extra eyes. Nobody is going to fucking retaliate and I’m just sitting around.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not getting any heat.” I say. “The fuck I need you and Adri for?”
“Bro, you killed your wife. A fucking Petrov without warning them. They’ll take it as an insult. Plus, word on the street is, you killed Tatyana for another piece of ass. Ass you acquired as a gift from Turgenev.”
I glare at Boston. “I didn’t acquire shit. I didn’t ask for her, she bargained her damn self and practically was thrown on my lap. That’s not even why Tatyana died.”
Boston cocks his brow. “I know y’all had that open relationship shit but seriously, I know you wouldn’t kill her over a piece of ass but Cir, not everyone knows you like I do.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah.”
“Now, this piece of ass you acquired. She hot?”
“Her pus—.” My phone rings, cutting me off.
I pull it out of my pocket, and it’s one of my men calling. “Jones.” I pick up.
“Boss, I know this isn’t really your uh, problem but the girl needs some clothes and stuff like that.” He sounds uncomfortable.
“What girl?” I ask.
“King.” Calling her by her first name for Jones, means they’ve either been acquainted sexually or something or that sort.
“I don’t give a fuck. Give her Tatyana’s shit to wear.” I say and hang up.
Boston eyes me up and down. “You want your side ass to wear your dead wife’s clothes? Are you mental?”
I shrug. “Tatyana’s gone. She won’t care.”
“Just admit the shit is hitting you harder than you thought, cousin.” When Boston calls me cousin, I know he sees right through me.
“It is but whatever. Anyway, did you find out who took some of our supply?”
He nods. “Yeah, some new small-time gang trying to make a name but don’t worry, I’ve got that on lock.”
