Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“What are you moving in?”
“A little bit of everything from all our connections: counterfeit goods, weapons, tech, some diamonds. Enough shit to keep a bunch of the capos and their associates busy for the first quarter of the year.”
“This the reason I was out fencing fucking fake red-bottoms until Easter a few years back?”
“Yeah,” Lorenzo said, smirking.
“Made a lot of money on those.”
“Yeah, we did. Anyway, we had an in at the charity itself: a director who was willing to look the other way, thanks to a generous cash donation on top of all the toys.”
“Sensing a but coming up.”
“But he dropped dead the day after Thanksgiving. They’ve got a new director now and we have no idea who she is, see if she’s someone we can finesse. I need eyes and ears at the charity.”
“You want me to get my do-gooder hat on?” I asked, looking down at myself. I didn’t exactly look like someone who spent their time cataloging fucking teddy bears and wrapping baby dolls.
“Yeah. I need someone inside that building, listening, getting a feel for shit. Especially this new director.”
“And if we don’t think she can be bought?”
“Then that’s when the job gets more complicated. But still doable.”
“Alright. And do I say who I am? Do we want her to know I’m connected to the family and their donations?”
“For now, no. But depending on what you learn about her, maybe. At the beginning, I just want you to be a guy caught up with the spirit of Christmas and wanting to spread some cheer.”
He had no idea what a tall order that was going to be for someone like me.
That said, I’d done harder shit over the years. I could fake a feeling I’d never experienced before if it meant more money coming my way in the new year.
That was why I was in this gig, after all. Money. Security. A chance to move up and no longer be hustling on the streets like I’d been doing my whole life.
I had a feeling that if I aced this job, I’d be getting called back to the boss’s house in the new year and going through whatever super-secret ritual they used to swear someone in as a capo.
“How long is the job for?”
“That’s the part that you aren’t going to like. Christmas Eve would be the last day.”
“Why would that be a problem?”
“Because of Christmas.”
“Could be doing it on Christmas Day too, if needed. Don’t got shit going on.”
“Didn’t Cosimo and Halle invite you to dinner?”
“Yeah. Miko and Max too. Didn’t take ‘em up on it, so if this needs to bleed into the holiday itself, that’s fine.”
“It shouldn’t. The truck should be emptied, unpacked, and wrapped before the presents make their way to the shelters on Christmas Eve.”
“Got it,” I agreed, taking the name of the charity, then getting up out of my chair.
“You don’t want to hang for a bit?” Lorenzo asked.
“Why?” I asked, getting a snort out of the boss.
“Alright. Well, keep me updated.”
“Will do,” I agreed.
I made my way back into the hall just as Lorenzo’s wife, Giana, moved past the doorway in the kitchen. I glanced back, catching sight of her red and green apron as she scooped cookies off of a silver sheet and onto the kitchen table where a couple of their kids were sitting. Across the surface were a dozen different kinds of sprinkles and frosting.
There was a strange tug in my chest that I didn’t have a name for before I turned, grabbed my jacket out of the closet, and made my way out the front door.
“You gotta be fucking freezing,” I said to the guard as the cold bit at my face.
“Jacket has built-in heat. Gloves too. And shoes.”
“Living in the future,” I said, yanking my coat’s hood up and heading down the street.
The snow was really kicking up, coating the road enough that even the cabs seemed to decide to wait until the plows came through before risking it.
A group of teens ran into the street, ducking down to grab handfuls of powder, forming it, then hurling it at one another.
It was all laughter and squealing.
Again, I felt like an outsider looking in. My own teen years hadn’t featured anything as lighthearted as a snowball fight. Hell, my childhood didn’t involve anything that easy.
Shaking those thoughts away, I ducked down into the subway to take me far away from Lorenzo’s multi-million dollar brownstone.
My building was identical to several others in the same general vicinity: tall, brick, ugly. The inside was no better. The linoleum had once been an off-white but was currently an almost uniform black. I was pretty sure the paint on the walls was still lead-based. And the elevator had been busted since I was a teenager.
I moved past a couple of kids who were taking a minute inside the building to warm up from being outside, scouting for one of the local street gangs, and started up the stairwell.