Page 26 of Working for the Mob

He didn’t care if I was alright or not. He ripped the paper out of my hand, careful to not touch any of my exposed skin.

“Just put it in the receivables,” he said. And that was the last thing he said to me for two full hours.

Chapter 8 – Art

Ineeded to plow through another dozen calls and finish a mountain of paperwork, but Genevieve stayed at the forefront of my mind. Either I fumbled over my words on work calls or butchered a form. Her presence really messed with my head.

I didn’t think that absent-minded Lucy could have completed the books, or I would’ve picked her instead. Then I would have more blood in my head to think instead of having all of it in … my downstairs head.

Neither Genevieve nor Lucy belonged in East Lannington and everyone could see it. Lucy dressed like every night was a ball and Genevieve … Genevieve was better than this place, better than me. It made no sense to give her the time of day when she would be going right back to the city at the first chance she got.

I chanced a glance across the table to make sure she stayed on her assignment. She had finally washed her hair; it framed her face like Olive Borden. Effortlessly beautiful.

I had never been with a girl like that. Hell, I didn’t need to think of the last girl I dated because I didn’t need to. I couldn’t risk it. Not after what I did as a teenager. After that, I stayed away from anyone that I cared about. Except for my brother who just wanted to use me like any other of the people at his disposal.

I picked up the phone to make a call to check on the thief from the other morning, but before I had the number dialed in, a knock came at the door.

Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and my least favorite person walked in. Lance wore a black suit and a cocky smile.

“Good afternoon,” he said, and removed his hat.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. If possible, he smiled even wider, which infuriated me.

“I own this office. I don’t need a reason to come down,” he said, and made sure that Genevieve heard him.

“You ownhalfof it,” I said, but he shrugged off the comment.

“Has he been treating you alright, Genny?” Lance asked, and put his hand on the back of her chair.

“It’s Genevieve,” I corrected him, but she smiled at him.

“No, Genny is alright. It's what my sister calls me,” she said. Lance shot me a victorious smile. “And he’s been alright, but I prefer it when he doesn’t talk.”

Lance laughed harder than he should have. The joke wasn’tthatfunny. “We’ve all been trying to get him to shut up since he was a kid.”

A red tinge stained my face. I could punch him right now. If I landed one hard enough, then I wouldn’t have to deal with him for at least twenty minutes.

“Why are you here, Lance?” I asked.

“I came down to share some information I found out from the police this morning,” Lance said, and Genevieve sat up in her chair eagerly.

“Unfortunately, it’s not all good,” Lance said, and Genevieve’s face dropped.

“They can’t track him down. He somehow evaded the cops at the Turnersville station, as you know, and a few of the locals caught sight of him on his way out of town. They described him in full detail, just like you said. It sounds like he took a cab to New York.

“Now that he’s in the city, it’ll be next to impossible to track him down,” Lance finished, and bowed his head politely. I swore under my breath, but Genevieve bit her lips again; tears were already welling in her eyes. I didn’t want to have to deal with another one of her tantrums.

“Well, it can’t get worse, can it?” she asked, and forced a giggle. “Hoping to get that money back was foolish of me anyhow.”

Lance put her hand on her shoulder, and said, “Chin up. That’s my girl.”

While I wanted to tear my brother’s arm right out of the socket, a smile actually blossomed on Genevieve’s face.

“I know this must be hard news for you to take. You know, I feel like I want to dosomethingfor you. Why don’t I drive you home?” Lance asked, and a hopeful Genevieve looked to me for approval. Lance’s cocky smile said that he already planned to take her home. But I’ve had enough of him.

“No,” I said, without thinking. What was I doing? Ineededa break from her. I had work to finish. “She still has a stack of invoices to record. She needs to finish the work day.”

Genevieve stared back at me, expressionless, but Lance looked ready to hurl fire, his smile discarded. “Come on, Art. She’s devastated. The work will be here tomorrow. And it’s not like you were going to get through all those yourself today anyway.”

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