big, she doesnât even know her. Shouldâve drowned her at birth.â
âCompassion isnât your style.â
âNothing to do with it. My kids ainât gonna let no senior citizen residence suck away whatâs left of my money.â
âYouâre being paranoid.â
âReally? They want to know where my will is stashed. Where I got the safety deposit boxes. The whole megillah.â
âMaybe theyâre just being prudent.â
âYeah? Well they ainât gonna get shit. Let âem work for it like I did.â He glanced over at Stella Tedesco. âShe never asked for nothing, and what did it get her?â
âA meal on you.â
âFuck it!â he said. âWhatâre you doing here so early?â
âThe boiler died again. So I figured Iâd come here for some warmth and good feelings.â
âOne out of two ainât bad.â
âWhatâs going on with my brother? I havenât heard from him in a few days.â
âHeâs back to being a fucking hermit. But Anthony is another story. Strutting around like the cock of the walk. Him and that mope Tommy Cisco. The Masters of Crime. Every time you look at them, theyâre huddled together hatching schemes.â He made a face. âThose two couldnât plan a decent purse snatch.â
âMaybe Dave figures that Anthonyâll bring some advanced business techniques gleaned from the Ivy League.â
âYeah, thatâll work.â
âOh, ye of little faith.â
The door swung open. My nephew and Tommy Cisco blew in on the breeze.
âMy day is complete,â Nick said. âBonnie and Clyde are in the house.â
âHey, Uncle Jake, howâre you doing?â Anthony said. A big smile was pasted to his face.
I called his smile with a glare.
âIn the pink,â I said.
âGlad I found you. Tommy here would like to straighten things out between you. You know, no bad blood going forward.â
I turned to Cisco. Just over the bridge of his nose he had a large purple welt like a third eye, encircled by a pretty pale blue corona.
He held out his hand.
I ignored it.
âListen, Steeg. I was a little out of line the other day, and I just want you to know thereâre no hard feelings.â
âAm I supposed to give a shit?â
It wasnât the answer he was expecting. His hand sort of drifted down to his thigh.
âNow,â I said, âdo me a favor and take a walk while I talk to my nephew.â
Cisco threw Anthony a look like he was asking permission.
âItâs OK, Tommy,â Anthony said. âThis wonât take long.â
Cisco nodded and did a slow amble toward the front. When he reached the door, I grabbed a handful of Anthonyâs coat and drag-walked him to the kitchen.
âWhatâs your
problem?â
he said, rearranging his clothes.
âCut the Tony Soprano act. It doesnât fit. What the hell is going on with you?â
His face reddened.
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âIâm the one guy who actually gives a shit what happens to you.â
âYouâre forgetting about my father.â
âHeâs too busy worrying about
his
future to give a shit about yours.â
âYou donât know shit. He loves me.â
âIâll give you that,â I said. âBut heâs got an odd way of showing it.â
He poked a finger in my chest, and his face twisted into a threat. âDonât you fuckinâ criticize him! And donât you ever put your hands on me again.â
This wasnât the kid I helped raise. The boy I considered my son. Anthony was turning into my brother.
âRight now he needs me,â he said.
âWhen it comes to his business, your father doesnât need anyone.â
âThanks for the advice,â he said, turning to go.
âHave you spoken to your
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley