Page 81 of Bad Men

The diner was a block from the apartment. The kind of place that teetered dangerously towards unsanitary and one roach away from a health code violation, but it had been our go-to since we were kids, and our dads would dump us off to go finish a job. It had practically been our second home. The booth had our initials and everything. We never really needed a reason to go, but that morning, after dropping Mia off, heading home to our makeshift bed void of her just felt off. At least for me. Nero didn’t give me his reasons, but I suspected it was along the same vein.

“You think she’s okay?” I asked around a second mouthful.

Nero never looked up from the toast he was honest to God slicing into squares with his knife and fork. “Hasn’t texted otherwise.”

That was true. Both our phones sat screen up next to our plates and both had remained infuriatingly silent.

I pushed the device and thoughts of Mia aside to focus on the other matter plaguing me.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday.” I speared a sausage on the prongs of my fork and brought it to my mouth. I took a bite and chewed methodically. “About the job.”

Nero hummed but didn’t press for more.

“I think you should take it.”

That got to him. His head lifted and I was caught in his arched eyebrow.

“Why?”

I took another bite of the juicy chunk of meat, savoring it this time as I contemplated my answer.

“We grew up in this neighborhood.” I twirled the last bit of meat hanging on to the ends of my fork, indicating our surroundings. “We know these streets better than anyone, right?” At his shrug, I continued. “Your dad always said Cortez never should have gotten that job in the first place. The guy was an outsider. He didn’t know the people. But you could make a difference.”

He took a slow, contemplating bite of his eggs, chewed, and swallowed never once taking his eyes off me. “I’m not running for mayor, Dav. Do you honestly think these people are going to listen to some…” he abruptly stopped and dropped his gaze. “I know what people think of me.”

“Look, we’re never going to win the Noble Peace Prize or anything, but we can use this new position to fix the neighborhood, make it into what it used to be when we were kids. We can do it in a way that Eduardo still gets his money.”

“Bake sales?”

I sat back and wiped my mouth and hands on a napkin. “Sure. Whatever it takes.”

He was amused. I could tell by the way he smothered his grin behind a forkful of eggs, but I didn’t care. It made sense. We could make the streets safe while still making sure Eduardo got his cut. He didn’t care how we pulled the money as long as we did.

“Think about it,” I urged, leaning forward to lower my voice. “We get to decide what happens and when. We route all of Eduardo’s product outwards, away from the homes and shops. Product circles the parameter of the city, less heat, less getting pulled over, less little shitheads carrying. Plus, safer streets, safer neighborhoods. We put out a warning that if anything goes down in our turf we didn’t personally authorize, the person responsible gets axed. Obviously, the punishment needs to match the crime, but you get what I’m saying?”

Nero set his fork down and pushed his plate aside. He wiped his fingers on a napkin.

“I get it.” He dropped the napkin down over his half-eaten breakfast. “I agree.”

I blinked, having been expecting more of a resistance. “Really?”

He nodded. “I was already thinking about accepting, partially for the same reasons.”

“Partially?”

His head turned to the counter lined with baked goods. Maude was wiping the scarred surface while chatting to an older guy in a ratty, suede vest and filthy baseball cap. The rest of the diner was fairly empty, except a woman at the very back corner behind Nero, head bent over a tattered novel.

“Mia.”

I waited for him to continue, but he seemed fascinated by a glazed donut. “What about her?”

He took in a deep breath and pulled himself to face me. “I wanted to kill Alejandro yesterday for what he did to her.”

“I get that. I did too.”

Nero shook his head in slow rocks. “But it made me realize that we can’t protect her like this, not the way she deserves, and I need that. I need to keep her safe. I think I would lose my mind if we lost…” he broke off abruptly, the rest of his words a sharpened guillotine swinging wildly above both our heads, but I knew what he was going to say. I heard it even while he tried to swallow it back. It was too late.

“Damn it, Nero.” The curse was vicious and violent in the confines of my skull. In the wet heat soaking into our clothes and dampening our skin, they were soft and pleading, a shredded plea to stop because we had already torn up, stomped on and scorched our rules to ashes for her. There was nothing left but our own goddamn denial. Now, even that was slipping away.