Son of the Mob by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online Page B

living room, sanding a lopsided salad bowl over a wastebasket.
    â€œTommy called. He told me about his little surprise for you. I want to make sure you’re all right with what happened.”
    â€œI thought he was taking me out to dinner,” I say feelingly.
    He’s patient. “He was only trying to get square. You bust somebody’s TV, it’s on you to find him a new one.”
    â€œNobody busted my—” It all comes together in my head. The Jimmy Rat incident cost me a chance with Angela O’Bannon, so Cece was there to supply me with what Angela hadn’t. Unbelievable. Sex is no different from a television set in my father’s business. A commodity—something to be traded, bought, sold.
    â€œIn your world, maybe,” I say sharply. “Not mine.”
    Dad nods understandingly. “You’re right, Vince. Your brother—sometimes I wonder whether he’s got brains or coleslaw in there. But his heart—that’s pure gold. You should have heard him on the phone. In his mind, he gave you the greatest present in the world. A lot of kids your age would have jumped at it.”
    â€œI was almost one of them,” I admit.
    Dad laughs. “But you weren’t. You always have to do things your own way. I love that about you, Vince. A little crazy, but it’s a sure sign that you’ll succeed in business.”
    I shoot him a harsh look.
    â€œIn any business.” He adds, “You’re thinking about what you want to do, right?”
    â€œEven in my sleep,” I reply sarcastically.
    He shakes his head. “You’ve got some mouth on you.” He inspects the bowl. He’s sanded a dime-sized hole in the bottom.
    â€œNice funnel.”
    â€œSmart guy.” He drops bowl and sandpaper into the basket and turns to the lamp. “We’re going to bed if that’s okay with you, Agent Bite-Me.” And he kills the light.
    It’s a good thing too, because I’m pretty sure I’ve just gone white to the ears.
    Bite-Me—Bightly. Kendra Bightly, whose father works for the FBI.
    â€œVince, you coming?”
    â€œYeah, Dad.” My heart is racing. Kendra’s father isn’t just an FBI agent; he’s our FBI agent.
    I just made out with the daughter of the man whose goal in life is to send my father to prison.

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    â€œY OU’VE GOT TO ask her out.”
    Alex has already said it seven times, and it isn’t even lunch yet.
    â€œCome on,” he persists. “She’s into you.”
    â€œIt was a frat party,” I reply between clenched teeth. “People do strange things—and I include myself in that.”
    We’re in the library to research our Web sites for New Media. At least that’s what we’re supposed to be doing.
    â€œLook, you blew it with Angela. You blew it with Cece. You’ve got to make something happen with Kendra. You owe it to me!”
    â€œEven if she liked me—which she doesn’t,” I begin, “what am I supposed to do, invite her over? Her father has the place bugged, remember? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear his own daughter over his surveillance operation.”
    Alex shrugs. “She has a house.”
    â€œHe lives there!” I explode.
    â€œNot all day,” Alex reasons. “Those guys put in big hours. It’s a lot of work investigating a major underworld kingpin.”
    I let that last comment pass. “Can we do this? We have to pick our topic today.”
    â€œOh, I’m done,” he informs me. “I’ve even registered my domain name.”
    He swivels his monitor to face me.
    I stare at it: www.misterferraridriver.com.
    â€œFerrari driver? A Web site about Ferraris?”
    â€œChicks dig sports cars.”
    â€œBut you drive a Ford Escort—when you can con your mom into lending it to you.”
    He’s unfazed. “On the Internet I have a Ferrari.