Dirty Deeds by Armand Rosamilia Read Free Book Online Page A

the one I’d unwrapped as soon as I’d destroyed the last one, rang. I knew it was Marisa since no one else had the number.
    “When do you want to go to Montreal?” she asked.
    “A couple of days. Maybe three. I’ll dig around here tomorrow but then I’d like to sleep in my own bed for a change,” I said.
    “Which bed?”
    It was a legitimate question. “The flat in Pawtucket. I can rent a car and drive it.”
    “I’ll get you a car,” Marisa said.
    I sighed. I know she loves helping me and I’m scatterbrained most of the time, but I needed a few hours to escape. Once in awhile I liked to be off the grid in a car, listening to bad radio and stopping at greasy spoon diners along the way.
    “I’m fine,” I said.
    To her credit Marisa didn’t push it any further. I guess she could tell I was having a moment and needed some space. I told you I didn’t have it all together all the time, only when it was really needed.
    “You got it, Boss. Call me in the morning if you change your mind,” Marisa said and disconnected. I knew she was annoyed with me, and it wasn’t just my insistence at driving myself. The Caruso incident was nagging at her as well, since she’d done so much to never let me get near to a client again. Yet, I was always walking into the hornet’s nest and trouble. I wondered if I had a death wish or just wanted to sabotage my life at times.
    “Is everything alright, sir?” Jacques asked as he stepped out with a gorgeously handsome black pinstripe suit.
    I smiled and waved him off without an answer. I wanted to remain vague and I was getting tired, wondering what I was doing here again.
    The suit felt like a second skin and I didn’t bother to ask what the price was because then I’d balk even though I could afford it and many more.
    “I’ll take it. Do you have it in any other colors?” I asked.
    “Of course. I got lucky on this fitting but I need to take it in right here and there,” Jacques said, running his fingers lightly over the suit.
    “Don’t bother. I’ll take it as-is. I like the feel of it. I’ll need another black with pinstripes, two black without, and three dark suits your choice. I’ll have my secretary contact you in the morning,” I said, knowing Marisa would be pissed if she knew I called her my secretary. Even though she did everything one would do, she preferred personal assistant. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.
    “Excellent.” Jacques handed me his card. I knew better than to hand him a credit card. Deals like this were done by the secretaries. . . I mean personal assistants. We couldn’t be bothered with the arduous task of swiping credit cards.
    I would never understand what having money meant to most people, and I’d stumbled into it at an early age. Some would say I didn’t appreciate it, and maybe they were right. On a slow night about a year ago, while watching a repeat on the Investigation Discovery Channel, I did the mental math about how much I’d need to spend a day in order to spend every dime I had to that point. I don’t remember the exact number but I know it was ridiculous. Skimming the interest from all these accounts wasn’t fast enough. I’d since grown bored with buying homes and cars. Some days I wish I had a bad cocaine problem or drank too much, because I was restless.
    I decided (I swore to myself for the hundredth time) I’d make an effort to date someone. Anyone. A first date wasn’t going to kill me, and I needed to hang around with someone who wasn’t rich or was tied up somehow in what I did, either legal or illegal.
    Jacques was staring at me again. He’d been asking me questions and I was off daydreaming.
    “Is there anything else, sir?”
    I shook my head, plastered a smile on my face, tried not to worry about my cheeks flushed with embarrassment and headed for the door.
    In the elevator I checked out the suit in the mirrored doors and smiled. I looked good. I also looked tired. I had bags under my eyes