Page 72 of Working for the Mob

“Become this bold? WekilledDarrellValuncia. How did you expect them to react?Youescalated this.Youput the gun in their hand and cocked it.”

“You can’t believe this wasmyfault,” he said, and his cocky grin disappeared for once.

The friendly air in the room dissipated and we were left with a tense haze.

“I don’t want anything like this to happen again. I want you to stop this war now.”

“What would you have me do?” Lance asked, and pulled himself up to look down on me. “Agree to their terms and let them claim ownership over the town? No. This ismytown.”

He banged his hand on his desk, and the glass chinked together.

“Don’t you meanourtown?” I asked. “Irun this hell hole.”

Lance shot me a deploring look. “You’ve run it into the ground.”

Anger drove me to my feet. “If I wasn’t here, no one in this town would even be fed. I supply for the grocery store, the café, the tailor, the factory. I do everything while you … what? Think of ways to get me killed?”

“Dad putmein charge when he died. You got it? Not you. Me.” He pointed at me. ”And don’t think for a second that I don’t know where this is coming from. This hit too close to home and now you’re worried about those two lookers down at the café. You care more about them than you care about this town.”

I opened my mouth to retort but no words came out. My breaths came ragged, as though I had just run a mile. His words rang true; I couldn’t face what would happen if it was Genevieve I drove home instead of Jamie. The thought drove my insides cold.

“You need to make sure this never happens again. I don’t care what you have to do. End this,” I snarled. I drank the rest of the whiskey, slammed the glass on the desk, and walked out.

“Hey, you don’t walk away––”

I cut off my brother’s yells by slamming the door behind me. His muffled screams accompanied me all the way to my car.

???

I met Genevieve at the café the next morning to teach her how to take stock and how to run the café’s books. I forgot that Lucy needed to use the café to bake the bread for the next day as well.

“I can’t believe I’m giving up a Sunday afternoon for you to show me how to count things,” Genevieve said. “I’m logging these hours.”

She was wearing another of the dresses I gave her. One that showed off more of her legs. Between my legs, I stayed at full attention. Now I knew what lay above that hemline.

“Will you just pay attention?” I asked, and pointed to her clipboard. “Now tell me, how many coffee cans are included in one shipment?”

I knew she wasn’t paying attention when we went over this earlier.

“Forty,” she said, and I scowled.

“Lucky guess,” I said, and I moved on.

“Art, hang on. Iknowall this stuff. This isn’t what I’m worried about. I need to know what to do in emergency situations.”

“There aren’t going to be any emergency situations.”

“Ok, but what do I do if Lucy messes up with the oven and there’s a fire?”

“Hey!” Lucy yelled, but didn’t look up.

“You call the fire department,” I said, dismissively.

“Okay … but what if the phone is broken?” she asked.

“You go next door and use their phone.”

“What if … the fire department runs into the fire hydrant once they get here and can’t put out the fire?”

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