Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
“This is true,” Tommy says. “Not meaning to make you question yourself, man.”
“Yeah,” I say, “It’s done.” I take another long drink, emptying my glass.
But he’s said something I’ve already been thinking and now that I’ve acknowledged it, I know it’ll nag at me even more.
Nino then leans over and tells me I had my shit together so well, I could be a contract killer if I wanted. He then tells me that if it’s something I want, he knows someone who can make that happen for me.
***
The day after I shot Max, when I told my kid brother he didn’t have to have nightmares anymore, mine started. Willie stopped pissing the bed and slept good at night.
I was happy to take that burden from him, but I missed being able to sleep straight through the night, missed the days when I didn’t remember what I dreamt about.
I didn’t have to sleep in his room. He didn’t try to sleep in mine. And it was good to see the kid start to excel. Do better in school. Laugh. Make some friends. Gain some weight. He went heavy for a while, so obsessed with getting to eat when he was hungry, but then he got into girls and became a fitness junkie and got buff.
He still went quiet sometimes and I knew it was on his mind. He was trying to man-up, knowing I was working hard to make sure we were all right.
Every once in a while, I wake up on his bedroom floor, not remembering how I got there.
We never talk about it, though.
We’ve both had to grow up too fast, but I was glad to take care of him, give him a chance to be a kid a little longer. As much as he could be, given the shit he’d seen and been through.
During the day, I keep my shit tight.
But night times are when it gets rough. Wishing I’d planned what I’d do to him instead of rushing for the end result I wanted.
Because the haunting feeling that I should not have let him get off so easily gnawed. Nagged at me like the gnashing of teeth in the dark, just above my head.
I should’ve made that asshole suffer. Max got off too easy.
During the day, I worked to finish high school. I took care of Willie as best I could with the help of Mrs. Mustaine, and I made money taking bets.
When I graduate, Tom Ferrano is sitting there with Mrs. Mustaine watching me get my diploma.
We live in a clean apartment with decent furniture. Willie never gets hassled for having dirty clothes or cheap shoes again.
Life after Brianne Coulter is better for the bastard Coulter boys. Sad, but true. And I suspect it was better for her, too, wherever she was.
Late at night, when the over-thinking hits, the self-loathing? I run through regrets, thoughts that I handled it wrong. Thinking on how I could’ve made him suffer. Suffer like my little brother suffered in fear. Suffered like my mother suffered at the mercy of the asshole on the floor as he hoofed her in the face with his construction boots on that he wore all day every day unless he was in bed.
I should’ve hoofed his face. He died with those boots on his feet. He should’ve died staring at dirty boots like she did.
I didn’t realize when I took that gun and shot Max in the face that I would regret, for years, that I didn’t take my time, that I wasn’t patient. That I made it easy for him instead of making him suffer. That I hadn’t been the patient guy my grandmother told me to try to be.
And I vowed that if anyone ever made me feel the way Max did again, they would not get off easily.
Me and my little brother lived in that other building for a couple years while I continued to build my business.
At twenty-one, I bought a little house for us in a nicer hood.
Along the way, I sometimes have to do small favors for Tom Ferrano, but thanks to him, I learn business lessons while I build connections and wealth.
By age twenty-four, I hit a personal net worth of a million bucks and do it ahead of my goal. I vow to spend my life trying to not only achieve my goals but to beat them.
2
Killian
The Week Before
Dario Ferrano’s Wedding
This is familiar. Eerily.
Dario and Tommy Ferrano aren’t here this time, but Tino and Nino Rossi are. Again, it’s just before midnight and they’ve delivered someone to me who’s bound and gagged with zip ties and duct tape.
Raymond Shit Stain Ass Wipe Iadanza.
We’re not at the storage unit though. We’re at my place by the ocean. Violet is at home in my bed.
It’s been a few days of my head being fucked. Severely fucked. Because with the reveal of the trick coins, my mind has been whirling. Anger. Disbelief. Regrets. Playing the ‘what if’ game that I already know isn’t good to play.