Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“He was just here,” I said, sinking onto my mattress.
“What? Oh my God! Why? I really tried not to let him know you two were serious, Jamie, I swear.”
“I know. Judging by the amount of intel he had on me, I think he’d been planning to come and see me even before your visit. He had a whole litany of extremely subtle threats all lined up and ready to go.”
“Christ. Have you called Dmitri yet?”
“No. I wanted to call you first, make sure you were ok after going to your father’s office.”
“Dmitri is going to be so pissed that my father came to see you. I mean, so pissed. Shit. He’s going to go and confront him when he hears this.” Catherine was pacing around as she ranted, high heels clicking on hardwood. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell him. Well, shit, we kind of have to tell him, don’t we? But damn, this is going to stir up a whole fuckload of trouble.” Her pacing accelerated – click, click, click, click.
“Look, let me be the one to tell Dmitri, alright?”
“Yeah, ok. It’ll probably be better coming from you. And maybe do it in person, not over the phone. You know, in case you need to physically restrain him,” she said. “In fact, tying him to the bed first might be a way to go.” I had to wonder if she was kidding.
“Is Dmitri home yet?”
“No.”
“Do you really think you can avoid blurting this out the moment he walks in the door?” I asked.
“No. So it’s a good thing I’m going out tonight. Although, shit, that’s another thing Dmitri’s going to be pissed about.”
“What?”
“I kind of made a date with one of my father’s employees.”
I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Employee in what capacity?”
“Oh, you know. Personal assistant. Driver. Bag man.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding. Kind of. I’m not actually sure what he does. But I’ll find out. After I jump his bones.”
“Christ, Catherine. Don’t we have enough problems right now without you being reckless?”
“Wow, you sounded exactly like my cousin just then. Eerie.”
“I’m serious. Why are you going out with a thug?”
“Because he’s cute. And because, unlike all the guys in New Haven, this one isn’t freaked out about the fact that I’m the daughter of a crime boss.”
“Do you usually lead off with that at parties?” I asked her.
“Well, no. But you know what I mean. I’m forever worried about what people will think if they find out about my family. It prevents me from getting close to most men, because eventually, you’re expected to take ‘em home to meet the family, right? And can you just see how that’d go in my case? ‘Hey, so, this is my cousin that I’m engaged to, and that’s my dad, who may have offed a few people in his rise to power in the Russian mafia.’ Awesome.”
“Ok, I get it. So what time is Luca Brasi picking you up?”
“Oh, do not throw Godfather references at me, you culturally insensitive Mick.”
“Now who’s being culturally insensitive?”
“It’s not even the right cultural reference,” Catherine went on. “There’s a world of difference between the Russian mafia and the Sicilian mafia. I would think you’d know that, cop.”
As we were talking, I’d slipped on a pair of flip flops and found my keys, and was locking up my apartment as I said, “I’m on my way over. At least let me meet this guy before you go out with him, ok?”
“Fine. You have fourteen minutes. He’s picking me up at six and we’re taking off as soon as he gets here. So if you miss him, you’re S.O.L.” Then Catherine added, “Oh hey, there was one more thing I wanted to tell you. I saw something at my father’s office, a key. Ask Dmitri about the Packard when you see him.”
“Ask him about the what?”
“The Packard,” she said with exaggerated slowness, as if she was talking to a mentally challenged three year old.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just ask him. I need to get ready for my date. Thirteen minutes. Tick Tock.” And she hung up on me.
I ended up pulling into Dmitri’s driveway just as a silver Prius parked illegally at the curb. I entertained myself by imagining that ad copy: Prius: today’s choice for the young urban criminal on the go. Save the environment while committing class one felonies. Ok, so I really didn’t have a future in advertising. But I did find humor in this guy’s choice of vehicles.
I waited at the foot of the stairs as an enormous guy unfolded himself from the car and crossed the sidewalk to where I stood. He was a six-five wall of solid muscle, but his face was surprisingly boyish. “Hi,” I said, “You must be here for Catherine.”
“Yup. I’m Joe Rudin.” He stuck out his huge hand and I shook it.