Honestly, it felt like I’d won the lottery, because I also found a room to rent near work. It was affordable, and I was finally able to take care of myself.
My thoughts come full circle back to Austin, and once again, I regret starting a relationship with him because I know if we break up, Heather will fire me.
Feeling downright miserable, I decide to take a quick shower while I wait for the washing machine to complete the cycle.
I’ll get up early to mop the floor and wash the few dishes.
As I walk to the bedroom, I hear Austin chuckle, and the seductive tone to it makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise.
God, I think he’s cheating on me. What do I do if he decides tomorrow we’re over?
Panic flares through me, and while I shower, I try to think of a plan.
Maybe I should wait for payday, and instead of buying food and taking care of the bills, I could use my meager salary to rent a room somewhere? I’ll be able to survive on my income for a month, maybe two if I’m careful.
Hopefully, I can find a new job quickly and finally get out of this suffocating situationship with Austin.
Chapter2
Adriano
Walking out of my office at the club, I barely glance at the stage where women are auditioning. Even though I pay the strippers well and they make bank from tips, there’s a high turnover in the industry.
Little Ricky is sitting at one of the tables, scarfing down a platter of buffalo wings he must’ve ordered from the diner up the road, which is meant for a group of four and not just one person.
When I pull out a chair and sit down across from him, his eyes remain glued to the stage, where the women are stripping.
For a few seconds, I watch him polish a bone clean, then I give him a disgruntled look. “All the junk is going to kill you.”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chicken.
He grabs another wing and dunks it in ranch before going to town on it.
Little Ricky came to live with us when he was eleven. Turns out, Big Ricky, one of my father’s men and a close family friend, got some woman pregnant, and when she died, her family shipped Little Ricky to us.
Big Ricky didn’t have to do a DNA test because his son was his spitting image.
I say was, because with the way the man eats, he now looks more like Tiny, who’s been best friends with Big Ricky for decades. The two men put away food like there’s no tomorrow, especially when my mother cooks for the family.
Luckily for me, Little Ricky is just as good a shot as his dad. I made him my head of security when I took over the family business, and honestly, I can’t imagine not having him in my life.
I’m closer with him than I am with my little brother, and that’s saying a lot because I’d die for Remo in a heartbeat.
I have two best friends, Augusto and Georgi, who are also capos, but shit gets busy, and lately, I haven’t seen them as much as I’d like.
I think the best way to describe my relationship with Little Ricky is that he’s my ride or die. Where I go, he goes.
“Eat faster. Devran’s shipment came in this morning,” I say while indicating to Sandra, one of the servers, to bring me a drink.
I’ve just started dealing with Devran Arslan, head of the Turkish mafia, and if this first shipment of whiskey, brandy, rum, and wine is top quality, it will open the door to a long-term partnership.
Not long after I took over from my father, I branched into smuggling alcohol, and fuck did it pay off. It’s one hell of a lucrative business, especially if you can get your hands on bottles older than fifty years. Collectors with too much money and expensive tastes will pay absurd amounts for rare vintage labels.
Just as I expected, Little Ricky replies, “Fifteen minutes.” His eyes remain glued to the stage. “The black-haired beauty is good.” He cleans his teeth with a swipe of his tongue, then calls out, “Yo, Jerry, I like the babe with the black hair. Give her the job.”
“You realize you don’t have a say in who I hire,” the old man replies.
Jerrie started working at the club around the time I was born, and even though he’s pushing seventy, he refuses to retire.