Page 62 of The Woman on the Jury

It was a pattern that continued well after my old man died, and we were old enough to go off on our own.

“First, for the record, I already talked to Ma. We worked shit out. Second, how I interact with Ma—or the Family—is none of your fucking business. Third, I don’t have fucking time for your bitching today,” I said, turning and walking away.

Did I regret the way I spoke to him by the time I got to my car? Sure. Kind of. But that was just the way shit was with us. Hard. Angry. It didn’t seem like there was any fixing that after all these years. Even if we wanted to, it didn’t seem like either of us had the skills to figure out how to do that.

After Lorenzo’s, I met up again with Miko, this time over a meal that both of us needed.

He’d taken over at Venezio’s place. Not only had he ordered him some food, but he’d gotten a fucking mini fridge and microwave delivered, and set up near the recliner, so Venezio could reach and heat up food without getting out of his chair.

He’d loaded the fridge up.

Then he’d also gotten him an office chair, so he could transfer onto that, and roll it into the bathroom. Apparently, his doors were too narrow for a wheelchair.

“Besides, think he’s got too much fucking pride for the chair,” Miko said. “You headed home now?” he asked.

“No. I got some business to handle,” I reminded him. “I’ll probably head home around dinner,” I said. “What?” I asked when he shot me a look.

“Boss, it ain’t none of my business,” he said, holding up his hands.

“What is it, Miko?” I asked.

“Just saying, that girl is all alone in that apartment all day, not allowed to leave, nothing to do, worrying about the shop and her grandfather… that’s all I’m saying.”

“Are you involved with her?” I asked, wishing I could suck those fucking words right back in.

“What?” he asked, looking taken aback.

“Halle. You’ve been with her every day for, what, four days? Have you gotten involved with her?”

“I mean, we shared a meal or two. Might have talked about her shop. But, no. I know that’s not my place. I mean, she’s beautiful and all, but no. It’s just… I think maybe I might know more about, you know, the inner workings of women than you do, that’s all. Feel free to tell me to shut the fuck up, if you want.”

“No. You know I appreciate your input,” I said. “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? You’ve been busting your ass.”

“I gotta go see my Ma. But then, yeah, sleep sounds good. Got my phone if you need me,” he said, standing up, and exiting the restaurant.

I did end up spending my afternoon doing work shit.

First, because it needed to get done.

Second, because I knew distance was what I needed from Halle.

And, third, even if I wanted to try to put her mind at ease and shit like that, I wouldn’t know the first fucking thing about doing that.

So I didn’t make my way home until around six-thirty, the sun long set, and with no other excuse to stay out any longer.

I greeted the guards who had changed shifts, then made my way inside, finding that I was bracing myself for her getting up in my face about keeping her prisoner.

I mean, I was keeping her safe.

But the fact of the matter was that, yes, the guards were directed that she was not, under any circumstances, allowed to leave the penthouse.

I figured she would have likely tried and learned the hard way already.

I walked into a quiet apartment, though.

There were no traces of her around, save for the fireplace that was still on in the living room.

Curious, I made my way down the hall, finding her bedroom door open, and the bathroom door ajar.

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