Page 69 of Labria

“Damn, that’s messed up.”

“He wasn’t the best husband, but he is a good father to me. I’m nothing like him. His temperament has always been volatile. I’m more like my mother.”

“You said you father disappeared. I remember you said that once when we were at lunch. Does your mother know where he is?”

“My mother is dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You never told me that.”

“She died in a car accident. That was what the death certificate said, but I know she killed herself. Adults lie to kids to paint a certain narrative. I was thirteen. I wasn’t an idiot. She was very depressed. She was unhappy, and she hated my father and living this life.”

“You mean the BMF. stuff?”

“Yes. It’s not for the faint of heart. This is real crime, not a movie.”

“This life is not for everyone. I’m sure it’s easier for people that were born into it.”

“You seem to be adjusting rather well.”

“I’m hanging in there.”

“And you look beautiful doing it.”

Our conversation was halted when the doorbell rang. Early afternoon on a Saturday, I wasn’t expecting any visitors in this gated community.

“Was that your doorbell?” Labria sat up in bed, removing her head from my chest.

“Yes, I’m not expecting anybody.” The doorbell chimed again. “Stay here. I’ll go see who’s at my door at—” I picked my cell phone up from the end table. “Eleven forty-two.”

I swing my feet to the floor and stood. I was only in my boxers. I looked back down at my cell phone to see who was at my door. I tapped the Ring camera app and hit the screen to go live.

I made my way down the stairs. I was anxious about this random house visit. I hoped this didn’t have anything to do with Labria. There was no way anyone could know she was here. I walked down the hall and opened my front door for the Don.

“Hey, Nicco. Come on in.”

He entered, and I closed the door behind him. I couldn’t remember the last time he was here. He usually summoned us to him. We entered the living room, and he turned to me with a blank expression. He had the best poker face. I never knew what he was thinking or what he was going to say.

“What’s up? ”

“Sorry to disturb you. Looks like you slept in.” His observant eyes were scanning the room. “Do you have someone over?”

“Huh?” There was no way he could know. Labria’s car was inside my garage.

“There are pink tennis shoes in front of your sofa. Right there on the floor and an empty wine bottle. You’re a whisky drinker and sometimes tequila.” He pointed down to Labria’s discarded pair of Puma’s.

“Yeah, yeah, but she’s sound asleep upstairs. What’s up?”

“I wanted to give you this news in person.”

“What news?”

“Your father.”

“You found him?”

“Yeah.”

“Where was he? Drunk in the south of France? Or passed out at a brothel?”

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