Page 3 of Count Down

While we wait for the light of the crosswalk to change, Lexi raises her eyebrows without turning to look at me. I can almost feel her trying not to roll her eyes. I’m sure Lexi doesn’t like Archie even though she’s only met him a couple of times.

“I don’t know,” I say again. “Living with my parents is at least…” I try to search for the right word. What is it? It’s notgood, notenjoyable. “Convenient,” I decide.

Lexi and I walk down the street to the parking lot.

“Do your parents need another roommate?” Lexi teases. “I’m sure they’ve got room for me. Your house is plenty huge.”

“That depends. How are you with overly-judgmental parents who think being a dancer in the corps is a failure?” I ask Lexi as we reach our cars.

“Still sounds better than Mr. Sleeping-Bag Beard-Sprinkles.”

I laugh, once again picturing Lexi’s roommate situation as she opens her car door.

“Seriously though,” Lexi tosses her dance bag into her Toyota Camry and then talks to me over the top of it as I open my own car door. “Your parents should be fucking proud of you. You’re choreographing for PBT’s summer showcase.”

I can’t help smiling, even though I know Lexi is wrong. My parents won’t be proud. Some people, like Lexi, know this is meaningful. “I could be Twyla Tharp and my father would still wish I was a lawyer.”

“Fuck him,” Lexi shrugs. “See you tomorrow,” she gives me a small salute and gets in her car.

3

LUCA

I lookout at the Philadelphia skyline from Mateo’s office. His penthouse probably has one of the best views in the city.

“The view never gets old,” Mateo says, putting down his work and looking up from his desk. “You should consider getting somewhere with an actual view.”

My place has a rooftop, but not much of a view. It’s more of a hidden oasis than a high-rise panopticon. I shrug and turn back to Mateo’s desk, taking a seat in front of it and sipping my coffee. “If only your taste in women was as good as your taste in condos,” I say.

“Ha!” Mateo laughs in his chair. “When was the last time you even brought a girl around your family? You’re more secretive about who you date than when we were in high school. I can only imagine what that means if you’re that embarrassed of them.”

“It’s my family I’m embarrassed of,” I say, grinning at Mateo and taking another sip from my cup. He’s right. I’ve always kept my relationships close and quiet from the family. I like to keep my relationships and my family separate.

“You want to sign this?” Mateo asks, tossing a card across his desk.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s the card I’m sending to the Bratva. Our condolences. It seems that Evsei Novikov died in a car accident.”

“You’ve always had a sick sense of humor,” I tell Mateo. He’s the one that ordered the hit on Novikov.

“And you’ve always enjoyed it,” he replies.

I toss the card back to his side of the desk. Mateo looks at me with a serious look.

“How was it?” He asks. “How do you feel about the last job?”

“Fine,” I reply. It seems like Mateo is getting at something else. He doesn’t usually ask me how I’m feeling after I’ve assassinated someone. Or ever.

“You know,” he looks at me. “This one was a bit different. A car accident.”

Ah. I know what he’s thinking. Mateo and I have never really talked about his mother’s death. He was with her when a driver ran her down on the sidewalk and then drove away. We’ve talked about everything else, but we’ve never talked about this. I’m not sure I want to.

“It was fine. It was the best option,” I say, looking down at my cup.

I don’t look up again until I hear Mateo lean back in his chair. There’s a newspaper sitting on his desk. I recognize the headline, having read the article this morning. It’s about the bakery fire in Devil’s Pocket. It was a dispute on our border with the Irish Mafia. It captured a lot of attention from authorities, including the District Attorney.

“How’s Raf handling it?” I nod to the newspaper.

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