Page 10 of Working for the Mob

“If you’re involved in self-harm, we need to go see a doctor next,” Art said from behind me, and I jumped.

“What?” I asked. I didn’t hear him come back and I quickly shook the startled expression from my face.

“I understand you gals have had a bit of a rough morning,” Lance said, and shot Lucy an apologetic smile before his onyx eyes locked on my own. I took an involuntary sharp inhale and Art stepped in front of me like a mama bear guarding her cubs.

“We have,” Lucy agreed. “I was dumped last night, and Genevieve had her Sears clutch stolen.”

“I am very sorry to hear that,” Lance said, and sidestepped Art. He found my eyes again and a swelling rushed to the space between my legs. He had Art’s looks and physique, but they weren’t wasted on a grouch. I had to remind myself that he was part of the mob as well. “If there is anything that I can do to make it better, just let me know.”

“I told you I’d handle it,” Art said, his voice low.

“Are you brothers?” I asked. I wanted to clarify before I put my foot in my mouth.

“No, we’re not,” Art said, forcefully.

“Half-brothers,” Lance said, and gave me his Sunday morning smile that warmed me as much as the coffee. “Same dad. Different mom. I got all the nice genes.”

Art practically barked at him. “Don’t you have things to do?”

Lance checked his watch. “Shit,” he said, and gave us one last smile and a brief nod. “I’ll keep an eye out for that purse of yours.”

“It’s a fucking clutch,” Art growled, as the door to the café slammed shut.

He went behind the counter, and left the two of us alone with our coffees. Only the temperature kept me from gulping down my entire cup at once.

I could bolt. Trapped in a café with a known member of the mob wasn’t my ideal coffee spot. The only thing that kept me rooted here was the news of the drifter. Art said the police would meet us here.

After I drank enough of my coffee, I spoke up.

“You were about to tell me what happened to your boyfriend before I cut you off.”

Lucy looked down at her coffee cup. “Oh. Right.” The mood shifted perceptibly.

Her shoulders slumped and she slid down in her chair as she tried to make herself look as small as possible.

“We’ve been rough for a while. He was the one who answered your call last night. And afterwards, he went back to sleep before we could talk. I told him this morning you’d be crashing on the couch for a few days. He just said, ‘So there will be two of you?’ And then he put me in the car and drove me to the train station without any of my clothes.”

I reflexively put my hand to my chest.

“Lucy! I’m so sorry. I feel like this is my fault,” I said.

“It’s probably for the best. One time, he told me I dressed like a nineteenth-century nun.”

This comment was below the belt as far as Lucy was concerned. If I ever got my hands on that punk I’d rip him limb from limb.

“Would I be able to crash with you, Mom, and Dad after we find your clutch?”

I hesitated. Lucy and my parents didn’t always get along. My parents thought of their children as trophies they could put up at the wall and brag about. And they had an acute picture in their head of what they wanted those children to look like. Lucy never fit that image.

Lucy was strong willed as a child and never grew out of it. For my parents, who wanted a daughter they could manipulate and control (even into their late twenties), Lucy was a disappointment.

I was always the perfect daughter. I ate my vegetables, I did well in school, and I listened to my parents. Lucy’s constant disregard for rules set me on edge. While she snuck out, I’d stay up all night worried that something would happen to her, or worse, she’d get caught.

“I’m sure we can find somewhere else for us to stay,” I said, with a grimace.

“Are you not going back home?” Lucy asked.

“I … uh.” No. I wasn’t.

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