Page 60 of Working for the Mob

“And I don’t believe you’ve ever had agoodtime,” he said, and smiled even wider. He swayed; Jamie was not the only one drinking tonight.

“I need to go find my sister,” Genevieve said, and hurried to the door without meeting anyone’s eye. Lance made her push past him.

“Don’t leave on my account,” he called after her, but she gave no response.

I glared at Lance, and he leaned on the doorframe, unperturbed. I couldn’t stand that stupid grin of his.

“I think you guys are my favorite brothers,” Jamie said, and looked between the two of us with a bigger smile than Lance’s. How much had he drunk tonight?

“What are you doing here?” I asked Lance.

“This is my office,” he said, and clapped his hand on Jamie’s back.

“I didn’t even have to invite him,” Jamie said, and nodded enthusiastically. “The two Necci brothers under one roof! Can’t beat that.”

“We should get back to the party,” I said and nodded to the door.

Lance winked at me, and the three of us returned to the party. I searched the room––I told myself that I searched for Henry, but I really wanted to find that red dress again. The one that hugged every curve on Genevieve’s body. The one that showed off her slender legs, which were wrapped tight under a thin layer of silk. The one that I wanted to rip off Genevieve and leave it on the floor while I explored every nook and cranny of that woman’s body.

I found Henry in deep conversation with Lucy at a table alongside the wall. It’s about time he found something that made him happy other than work. Ever since I hired him, he’s been as invested in this town as I was.

Lance had already joined Genevieve and Miss Dunham at the bar

“… And the manual that came with it is only written in Italian,” Genevieve was saying as I walked up.

“And you don’t know any Italian?” Miss Dunham asked.

They were talking about the damn espresso machine I bought.

“I took French in high school, but that’s it,” Genevieve admitted, downcast.

“I can look at it. I know a little bit of Italian,” Lance said, and I balked at him.

“You do not,” I protested, but Lance didn’t skip a beat.

“Sure, I do. Picked it up from that surly baseball coach in high school,” Lance said. He leaned in close to Genevieve and talked in a lower voice, still loud enough for me and Miss Dunham to her. “Art didn’t play that year. He wanted to ‘work on his studies’ or some other waste of time.”

“I dropped out of school because Dad got sick,” I said. “We can’t all be kicked out of the farm league like you.”

I meant it as an insult, but he just swelled even bigger at the dig. “That’s right. I spent a year playing double-A ball down in the Carolinas. Before I threw out my shoulder.”

“Oh, no. Does it still hurt?” Genevieve asked, and laid her arm on Lance’s shoulder. She glanced back at me and threw me a devilish smile; I clenched my fist so tightly that my fingernails drove into my palm.

“Sometimes,” Lance said, in a voice normally reserved when speaking to an ill person.

“What team did you end up playing for down there?” Miss Dunham asked.

“The Greenville Spinners.”

“That’s right. They had a decent team back then.”

“They did while I was playing for them,” Lance said, and I couldn’t take anymore. I excused myself and went to get another drink.

The party wound down two hours later. Only Lucy, Genevieve, Lance, and Jamie remained. Cissy had walked home with Miss Dunham an hour ago. Henry had to leave for an early morning. He had promised to visit Lucy at the café the following week.

“I really don’t want to walk home in the cold,” Lucy said. “It must be below freezing out there.”

Lance spoke up immediately. “I’ll drive you two home.”

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