Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I slipped my phone away, wanting a sip of my coffee, but worried my hands might shake.
Because there weren’t a whole lot of rules when you operated in the criminal underworld. But one of them was simple and age-old.
You don’t fuck with the mafia.
“I could give it back,” I said, watching Lil for her reaction.
“I think you don’t really have any other choice. I mean, that’s a lot of diamonds. It would take a long time to unload all of that. And if the mob has feelers out and is looking for loose diamond sales…”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have to tell you that they have their hands in everything. If my place had any sort of signage, I’m pretty sure they would shake me down for protection money.”
“How the fuck do I even go about giving this back? It’s not like they have a headquarters.”
“No,” she agreed. “But you have his wallet. And, I assume, his address.”
That I did.
“I don’t think you need to be pissing yourself,” Lil said, sensing my growing panic. “I mean, the mob is known for their code. And right at the top, just below loyalty, is no fucking with women or kids. And, you know, they’re criminals too. I think he’d understand that you were just doing your hustle. And that once you saw what you had, you brought it right back.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, writing off the idea of being a chickenshit and hiring a courier to do the dirty work for me.
Lil was right.
It’s not like I knew he had that many diamonds in his wallet.
What the hell was he doing walking down the street with that much money on him?
Really, he only had himself to blame.
Lil looked back at her diamond scale.
“Want me to hold onto this for you?” she asked. “I doubt he counted how many diamonds were in there. And one could have easily gotten misplaced when he put them in. Consider it your payment for doing the right thing.”
I knew it was stupid.
The diamonds weren’t mine, even if I did steal them fair and square.
But I was still me. Forever paranoid about being without money again, without a home, without food and heat and clothes on my back.
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding.
“Okay,” she said, taking the diamond and sticking it in a little red velvet bag before tucking it into a drawer. “Babe, it’s gonna be alright. You will give them back. He will do whatever he was gonna do with them and forget you even existed. No harm, no foul.”
“Yeah.”
“But get it done. ASAP. The sooner, the better. Then he doesn’t get a chance to really panic or get pissed. Or, worse yet, get his boss on his ass.”
“Definitely,” I agreed. “Thanks, Lil. I appreciate your help,” I said, already mentally planning what I was going to say to this Miko guy when I found him.
“Anytime. Come back when things blow over. I will give you back your little payday.”
“You’re the best,” I said, finishing my coffee then making my way to the door.
This time, the cold air outside was welcome. It cleared my mind and steadied my nerves as I made the long walk back toward the apartment building.
It was the dead of winter, so by the time I made it back, it was already dark as fuck outside, and I was wondering if maybe I could delay the delivery by one day.
Exhaustion was starting to tug at my eyelids, was weighing down my body.
The apartment was dark when I made my way into it, and I figured the girls had likely come back, grabbed their stuff, and headed out to the protest, since the poster on the table was missing.
I made my way to the fridge, finding a sticky note taped to it.
Brought you home Chinese. Please sleep tonight.
XX Megs and Nicole
The longer I was home, eating fried rice and sinking into my mattress, the more and more convinced I was that it was okay to wait until the morning to drop the wallet back to that Miko guy.
The past twenty-four-plus hours without sleep was making me groggy and frazzled. I could use a couple of solid hours.
Decision made, I was out cold sitting up in bed, the damn carton of Chinese food still in my hand.
It was the footsteps that woke me up, frazzled, unsure what time of day—or day of the week—it was.
I shot up, knocking fried rice all over myself and my bed, as something crashed in the living room.
Logic tried to reason with me, insisting that the girls were likely stumbling around in the dark and knocked something over.
But so many years of expecting the worst, because that was all life had to offer, had my adrenaline surging through my veins, making me feel racy as my heart thundered against my ribcage.
I winced as I shifted my legs off the bed, annoyed at myself for not replacing my noisy metal frame that creaked and groaned like an old man. All the excuses I’d made in the past—it was free, it worked, it was kind of a vibe—suddenly seemed really stupid if it was going to give me away to potential intruders.