PROLOGUE
Onceuponatime,therewasaboy Aprince.
Buthewasn’tlikeregularprinceswereadaboutinfairytales FelixMalonewasthesecond-bornsonofanevilmafiadon.
His father bedded women, impregnated them, used themto birth his five sons, then disposed of themlike the trash he consideredthemtobe.
Felix,beingthe secondoldest, almost escaped the responsibilities placed uponanheir. He was the spare, after all. The childwhowouldsupportthe oldestsonas he ensuredthe familyname prosperedindarkalleyways,throughshadybusiness dealings.
ButTimothyMalonetheThird,theheirinquestion,neverwantedthethrone;notwhenhewasachild,andnotnowthathe’s grown.Heneverwantedtoruleakingdom,andhesowedtheseedsofabdicationlongago.
Bythetimetheirfatherdiedofanaggressiveformofcancerandthefamilybusinessneededanewruler,Timhadalready leftthecity.
SoitwasFelixwhostoodreadytopickupwherehisfatherleftoff.
Preparations had already been made, of course Fromthe moment Timmade his future wishes clear, Felix became the ChosenOne. The prettiest.The mosttormented.He was the firsttofeel his father’s savage backhand as the boys grew, and whenhe was old enoughto partake inthe enterprise itself, he was the first brought into the boardroomto talkdistribution channels,powdershippinginfromthesouth,andthemovementofgunsacrosseverystateofthecontinentalU.S.
Naturally, the Malones were a familyof diversification: weapons, cocaine, money, and women. Theywere a business, afterall,andanysmartbusinessmanknowsthatmultiplestreamsofincomeishowanempireflourishes
Felixwas never supposedtobethemafiosoheis today,butTimrefusedthecrown,Micahprefers solitudeandprivacy, Archerwasbraveenoughtodenouncethefamilyandwalkaway,andCatowasjustababy Still is.
The cold hard truth is, if Felix rejected his position amongst the deadly ranks of New York City, the Malones would becomeahuntedspecies.
Hemightbethecraziestbrotherofthemall.Theloudest.Themosthomicidallyspontaneous.
Buthisroleinthislife,whetherhelikesitornot,istoprotecthisfamily It’salwaysbeenthisway.
SIXTEENYEARSOLD
hhh…”Itiptoealongthehallsofmyfamily’shome,thesprawlingmansionmadeupofmoreroomsthanI’veevercared tocount MorefloorsthanI’veeverwalked MorehideyholesthanIcouldeverhopetodiscover
Todosowithoutmyfather’spermissionisforbidden.Tosneakhigherthanthesecondfloor,punishableintheworst way.ButwithSavannahTowersholdingmyhand,hersweetperfumefillingmynose,andherintoxicatingsmileflashinginmy peripherals,I’munstoppable Unafraid.
Nomotherfuckercanslowmedown
SoItrekalongthehallsofthefourthfloorlikeaknightinunbreakablearmor.ForaslongasSavvyneedsme,foraslongas she’saguestinmyhome,I’llbehershield “Felix.” Savannah’s sweet, tinkling voice is anything but fearful. Her almost-silent giggles a challenge, not a warning. “We’regonnagetinsomuchtrouble.”
“Ijustwannasee,”Iwhisperback Glancingovermyshoulder,Icatchherarctic-blueeyessmilingbackatme Long,black lashes,framingherstare.
She’sthedaughterofoneofmyfather’ssoldiers Oneofthreegirlsborntoamanwhostandsatnearlysevenfeettalland carriesanautomaticweaponalways.
Thatweapon, ofcourse, is meantto pointtoward myfather’s enemies Butsometimes, whenno one else is looking, he shiftsitmyway,justforasecond,andconveysamillionwarningswithoutasingleword. Hewillguardhisbabygirl,nomatterwhat.
Sheistoremainunsullied,nomattermytitleorrankinthisworld Iknowexactlywhathewouldthinkaboutourcurrentadventure.
Savvyisn’tevensupposedtobeatthehouse andmyheartsureasshitisn’tsupposedtothunderwheneverwe’reinthe samespace.Buttoday’saspecialday:mybabybrotherisgonnabeborn.AndSavvycarriesasmuchrespectfortherulesasI do.
“Areyoupreparedforwhat’sgonnahappentoyouifwe’recaught?”shequestions,thoughshestalksthehallaseagerlyasI do. Her steps unhurried, but without hesitation. Her long blonde locks, tied in a half-up, half-down style, dangle forward becauseofherenthusiasticstanceaswetiptoealongthethickcarpetrunner “Yourdadisgonnakillyou,Lix” “Nothingbadwill happenaslongaswedon’tgetcaught.”Ichangeour gripandslidemyfingersbetweenhers,drawing hercloser
She’s a dopamine hitIcannever getenoughof. The nearer she stands, the higher Ifeel. The more she smiles, the more powerfulIam.
She’sadrug,manufactured only forme.Dangerous.Addictive. Andsofuckingintoxicating,IalreadyknowI’llbekeepingher.
“Comeon,”Imurmur,thecriesofawomanechoingfromtheendofthehall Usually,myfatherwouldhavemenstandingoutsideeachdoor.Theirbackstothewall,theirfingerspressedtothetrigger liketheyexpecttheboogeymantojumpoutandgetthem
Butit’s a busyday. Doctors have beeninand outsince yesterdaymorning. Nurses have beenon-hand around the clock, helpingthewomanthroughthedeliveryofason.Shescreamsalot.CriesoutinalanguageIdon’tknow.
“Felix,”Savvyhisses “Mydad’sinthere,too Ifheseesme ”
ThegutturalscreamofawomanI’venevermet,whosenameIdon’tevenknow,slamsintothehallandtwistsmystomach inknots
AsTimothyMalonethe Second’s son,I’vewitnessedthingsmostothersixteen-year-oldshaven’t.I’vewatchedmenbegfor
theirlives,andI’vepulledthetriggerwhenIwasorderedto.I’vecutaman’stongueout,andkeptmyownmouthshutwhen othersoldiersburiedabodyinashallowgrave.I’vefuckedwomen,andI’vebeenfuckedbywomen,evenwhenIdidn’treally wantit
Butthisisthelifethathasbeenchosenforme.ThisistheworldIwasplacedin. It’snotsobad,really “Felix!”
Ispinatthedeepgrowlofanotherman’stimbre Anotherboywhowasnevergivenachancetobeaboy “Whatthehellareyoudoinghere?”hedemands.
Timisonlyolderthanmebyayear,buthe’stallerbyafewinches.Andso,staringupathimnow,Isweatunderhisintense gaze,swallowthelumpinmythroat,andbringSavvyaroundtostandatmyback
“Thebaby’scomingtoday,”Imanage,straighteningmyspineandelongatingmybody.I’mabadmotherfucker.IfIdon’tact likeit,I’lldiebeforeIgetachancetorule “Cato ”
“Is none ofyour fuckingbusiness.” He reaches outwithfasthands and grabs the frontofmyhoodie. “He’ll flogyouif you’recaughtuphere”ThenhelooksovermyshoulderandsnarlsatSavvy,“Andhe’llfuckyou Youbothknowit”
Mytemperspikes,floodingmyveinswithadrenaline.Notatthethoughtoftakingabeatingfromamanwhoseemstoenjoy handingthemout,butbecausethethreatofmyfatherfuckingthegirlI’vesworntoprotectisn’toutoftherealmofpossibility.
Savvycouldbethirteen,orthirty itwouldn’tmattertothemanwhocreatedus Especiallynow thatCatoisnearlyhere andthewomangivingbirthtohimisnolongeruseful.
Oncethatkidisout,he’llbelookingforhisnextvictim
“Gether out,” Timgrits.Whilemymindsticks onimages ofmyfather fuckingSavvy,mybrother tugs onmyhoodie and snapsmyeyesstraightbacktohis.“Outsidethegates.Now.”
“Fuckyou.”Youthmakesamanstupid,Ithink.Impulsive.Alittlebitdumb.Becausethat’sthebestcomebackIhaveasI tearhishandoffmysweater.“Hewon’ttouchher.”Iliftmychin,butIjerkthegirlclosersoIfeelherbreathonthebackofmy neck “Hewouldn’tdare”
“Wouldn’the?”Tim’sforest-greeneyesdancewithmirth,cruelandtaunting.Becauseifwedon’tlaugh…atthispointin ourlives,wemightactuallygoinsane
“Thatgirlinthere,”hepointsstraightovermyshoulder,“isn’teveneighteenyet,Lix.Maybeshe’sgettingclosetoit,but webothknowhedoesn’tgiveafuckaboutconsentorage.”Hedropshishandandlooksdownatme,thewayolderbrothers havelookedupontheirsiblingsforalifetime.“You’reanidiotifyouthinkbringingSavannahhereisokay.”
“But ”
“Haveyoubledyet,Savvy?”Hiseyescutpastme,tothegirlwhoclingstomyhand “Gottenyourperiod?” “Uh…y-yes,”shestammers.“Thisyear.”
Hesneersandbringshisattentionbacktome “Get Her Out Ifyoucareaboutheratall,you’llkeepheraway” Ijumpwhenthewomanattheendofthehallscreamsagain.Gutturalandpainful,likethey’retorturingher. Which, I guess, they are Seventeenyearsoldandspittingababyoutofherunderagecunthasgottahurt. “Go!”Timpushesustowardthestairs “Anddon’tbringherback” “Comeon.”IreaffirmmygriparoundSavvy’shandandstartwalking.Thenthatwalkturnstoarun.
Becausehe’snotwrong,andthegirlcurrentlyhavingababyisrunningoutoftime Herscreamsturntotears,andthewails ofanewbornfillthespaceleftbehind.
“Let’sgointothetrees”Ijogdownthestairstwoatatimeandriskmyneckandhers ButIholdherupwhenshestumbles, andslingheraroundwhenwereachthenextlanding.
“IsTimgonnatellyourdad?”Hervoicecrackleswithnerves.“Felix?Ishegonna ”
“No”Iswingfromthesecondfloorandstartdownthefinalsetofstairs,myheartsprintingandadrenalineswimmingin myveins.“Hewon’tsayshit.”Iburstontothegroundfloorandslamtothewallofthehallway,jumpingwithasqueakwhenI findMicahstandingwithhisbacktothewallopposite
His shoulders are pressedtothe plaster,his ankles crossed.He holds a bagofchips inone hand,while the other is dug deepintothepacketasheselectshisnextbite
He’syoungerthanme,barely,buthe’sthequietone.Introspective. Unlikeme,andunlikeArcher,hehasnever, would never,bringawomanintothishouse. Probably makes him smarter than us “Thebabyhereyet?”heasks.
“Yep”ItugSavvybehindmeagain,thoughIknowshedoesn’tneedtobeprotectedfrommybrother Ourchestsheave,our breath,racinginsync.“Iheardthekidcryingasecondago.”
Micahnodsslowly.Thoughtfully.Thenhelookstohiswatchasthoughtocheckthedateandtime.“Thatmakesfive.You thinkhe’llstopnow?”
“Idon’tfuckinknow.”IpushawayfromthewallandpullSavvyalongthehallandtowardthefrontdoor.
Wejusthavetogetoutside.Intothesunlight.Wehavetofindfreedom,thenthismightbecomethedayIactuallylistentomy brothersandstopbringinggirls this girl aroundahomeshe’snotsafein.
“I’mgoingintothetrees,”IcallbackforMicah’searsonly “StayoutofTim’sway Youknowhowhegets”
“Doesitevergetconfusing?”Savvyrunsalongsideme,herbreathracingasweshovethroughthefrontdoorofmyfamily’s homeandstartinstantlytotheleft
Guardswatchthegrounds,theirgunslongerthanmyarms.Theireyesshootourway,toascertainwhetherwe’reathreat. Butwhentheyconfirmit’sjustme,justakidwhomightsomedaybecometheirboss,theygobacktowork
“Felix?”Savvyrepeats,ourfeetthunderingagainstthedrivewayaswerun.“DoesitgetconfusingcallingyourdadTim, whenyourbrotherisalsoTim?”
“No”Iduckaroundthesideofthehouseandbringheraroundtoo,herbackslammingtothesolidexteriorandherlungs emptyingonimpact.
Forasinglebeatintime,hereyesglazeover Likehittingthewallhasknockedallhersenseaway ButwhenIstepin,too fuckingrownformysixteenyears,andpressmychesttohers,hervisionclearsandhereyeslockontomine.
“Timismyoldman Hedoesn’toftengetthetitleofDadorFather TheotherTimismybrother”
“Butthey’rethesamename.”
“They’re saiddifferently,” Ipant,catchinguponthe oxygenmyrunusedup.Settingmyhands onher hips,Ileana little closer,knowingherfatherandminearebothupstairsandfartoobusytonoticethethingswedo “Isayonewithhatred The other,withrespect.”
“We’re supposed to respect our fathers” Her lips are plump Bowed and kissable I already know we’ve done it a milliontimes.“You’vegotthemmixedup.”
“Nah.” I settle my forehead on hers and shake my head gently fromside to side. “We’re supposed to be given fathers worthyofrespect.ButTimothyruleswithfear,notadmiration.”
“Hecontrolsmyfather.Hecontrolseverything.”
“Hewon’tcontrolme”Ipressakisstoherlips,andsmirkwhenshereceivesitthewayshealwayshas
Sixteen,intherealworld,issixteen.Young.Dumb.Childish,still.Butsixteeninourworld:you’reeitherclaimedbythe mafioso’skid,oryou’reclaimedbythemafioso
Iknowwhichshe’dprefer.AndIknowwhichoneshewon’tsurvive.
“Timdoesn’twanttorule,”Imurmuronanalmostwhisper.“HelikesourfatherevenlessthanIdo.AndArcherwouldslit theasshole’sthroatinhissleepifhecouldsneakinandgetawaywithit.”
“So, what, then? Youwant to become the next Malone ruler whose sons hate him? Whose sons would kill himif they could?”
Icoughoutalaughanddragmybottomlipbetweenmyteeth.“I’mnevermakingkids,SillySavvy.Notsons.Notdaughters. ButIwillrule”
“Becauseyouwantthepower?Youwanttobeincharge?”
“Nuh-uh.”Istudyhereyes.“BecauseIdon’twantmybrotherstohavetodoit.Idon’twantthattobetheirfuture.Iwant themtobeabletohavesons,iftheywantthem”
“Soyou’rethemartyr,”shedeadpans.“Theirsavior?”
Iflasha wide grinandtapthe bow ofher lips withthe tipofmytongue “Alittle self-serving,a little self-sacrificing I won’tmindthepowerthatcomeswithbeingthekingofNewYork.It’sabest-casescenariothing.”
Sherollshereyes,butawarmblushfillshercheeks “Youcan’tbeking,silly Cordozaisking andMancinocontrolsthe nextlargestpartofthecity.”
“SoI’llkillthembothonthewayup.RightafterIkillTim.”Idartforward,fasterthansheexpects,andfeelamildstabof guiltwhenourlipsclashandthebackofherheadrapsagainstthewall
ButIkissheranyway.Itastehertongueandholdherbodybeneathmyhands. SavannahElizabethTowerswillbemyqueensomeday
We just have to survive our fathers first. “Felix!”
Ijumpbackandbalkwhenmyfatherhimselfstalksaroundthesideofthehousewithabrand-newbabyinonehand,anda gunintheother.
Savvy’sfatherfollows,supportingthebaby’smother She’syoung.Emaciated.Bleeding.Sweating.
Sobbing
She’s inabadway.Butall Icanthinkaboutis meandSavvy.How wemeanttoruntothetrees,andgotcaughtuphere instead.Howweintendedtoescape fortheday,atleast butspontaneityhasusstandingoutintheopenlikefools. “Come.Now.”Thesecondoureyesmeet,Timliftshischinandsummonsmecloser,oneshakystepatatime. IleaveSavvyonherown,pressedtothewallandwide-eyed,andlooktoherfather,whoholdsupthenamelesswoman.
Notinalover’sembrace,andnotassupport,thewayapersontypicallycaresforsomeonewhoissickly.Instead,hemerely gripsherarmandcreatesabracemeantonlytokeepherfromhittingthedirt.
Buthisattentionisonme,hiseyesburningagainstthesideofmyface Thentheyjumpovermyshoulderandstoponhis daughter’s.
Pain Rage Fear Worry EveryemotionpassesthroughhisexpressionsoIreadhimaseasilyasMicahreadsabook Buthehasajobtodo,sohesaysnothingaboutfindingusoutheretogether.
He does nothing,exceptcarrytheyoungwomanwhowilllikelybleedtodeathanyway “Felix!” The second I’mclose enough, Timtosses literally fobs the minutes-old baby into my arms, so my stomach heavesasIfumbletocatchthechildthatisstillslipperywithitsmother’samnioticfluids.
He’saboy we already knew that andtiny Blackhair,pinkskin Tenfingers,almond-shapedeyes,andlonglashes IguessIexpectedhewouldcryatthelossofhismother’stouch,oratthesubsequentjostlingofbeingtransferredfromone mantoanother,buthemerelysleepsinthecrookofmyarm,oblivioustohisnewlife
He’sthenewestsonofadon.ThenextinlineforNewYorkroyalty,shouldTim,Micah,Archer,andIfuckitallup.Andhe hasnoideawhathe’sinfor
Swallowing,Ilookawayfrommybabybrotherandbringmygazebacktotheexpectantoneofmyfather. What? Iwanttoask. What the fuck do you want from me?
“Youholdthechild,”hebitesout “Hecriesatnight,yougetupandfixhim”ThenhelookstoSavvy’sfatherandclickshis fingerstogethisguardmoving.“Takeher.”
“No!”Cato’smother,thegirlwhosenameI’llneverknow,screamswhenthesoldiertugsherforward Shewearsanugly gown,thekindfolkswearinhospitals,butperhapsworstofall,shebleedsbeneathit.Alongherthighsanddowntoherankles.
The harder she fights her captor’s hold, the more crimson falls fromher mutilated body, creating a garish mud on the ground.
“No!”shecries,somehowstrongagaindespiteherordealtoday.
Sheanglesforme WhileSavannah’sfatherhalf-carriesheroneway,sheleanstheother,herarmsoutstretchedforherbaby andhereyesfloodedwithanguish.“Моја beba!Beba!”
Savannah makes a sound of distress behind me Her soft weeping, piercing my heart, despite her upset being nothing comparedtothatofthisyoungwomanwhowantsherchild.Savvysniffles,whilethenewmotherroars.Savannahwhimpers, whilethenewmotherclawsforfreedom.
“Argh! Youfuckinbitch,”Towersslamsthegirlwiththebackofhisfist,knockinghertothegroundandgrabbinghisarm wherehernailspiercedhisskin.
The baby wakes and wails, as though he knows his mother hurts Savannah sobs, the mother cries, and all along, Tim watchesthechaosunfoldwithasmirkonhislips.
Somefolks,peoplelikeMicahandArcher,preferpeace Theywantcalm Quiet Theywantpredictabilityandsmoothseas Others,peoplelikeTimothyMalonetheSecondandsometimesme,thriveonchaos.Likethequietgivesustoomuchthinking time.Likeacalmlifeallowsustoomuchfreedomtodwellonthefactwe’refuckedinthehead.
Soinsteadofriskingself-examination,wesetthingsonfireandwatchtheshow
“Pickherup,”Timorders.
He looks kinda like me and mybrothers We all have differentmothers, butthe Malone genes are strong He passed the greeneyesdowntousall,andtheblackhair,likeit’ssomehowourpersonality.Broadshoulders.Longlegs.Trimwaists.
Hemadefoursons five, now that Cato is here thatresemblehimandeachotherenoughtoknowwe’refamily Butnot somuchthatwecouldbemistakenfortwins.
Or, well… quads? What’s the word for five?
Timtilts his chinso Savannah’s father lifts the sobbing, bleedingwomanand tosses her roughlyover his shoulder She squealsinpain,screamingwhenhebouncesherupandaclotthesizeofmyfistfallsfrombetweenherlegs,hittingtheground withahorrifyingsplat
Shepoundsherfiststohisbackandkicksherlegsoutasheturnsawaytoobeymyfather’sorders.
“Holdthechild,”Timrepeatstome “Followus”ThenheglancestoSavannahandlooksherupanddownthewayaman looksatawoman.
The liftofhis brow. The quirkofhis lips as he works to hide his smile. His eyes glitter withsomethingthatmakes my stomachache,andhishandfoldsaroundthehandleofhisweaponlikeheknowshe’llhavetouseit IstepinfrontofSavvy,guardingherfromhisstare,butmymovementonlymakesthemonster’slipscurlhigher.
Finally,heturnsonhisheelandclickshisfingersforhissoldiertofollow “Youknowwhattodo,Antonio” “Yes,sir.”
Towerscontinues across thedriveway,tensteps aheadofus,andmakes his waytowardthetrees.Thewomankicks and screamsforfreedom,butherfightgrowsquieter.Herface,deathlypaledespiteherpositionofupside-downness.Herbreasts topplefreeofhergown,thefleshalreadyswollenwithmilkshe’llnevergettooffer.
Shewon’tlivebeyondthehour.
Am I a man, really, if I let this happen?
Andyet,whatthehellcanIdotostopherimminentdeath?Shehadthebaby ShenolongerholdsvalueforTim
How the fuck am I supposed to help her?
“Put her on the grass” Timstops twenty feet fromthe fence-line and massages the handle of his gun in his palm He watchesAntoniocarrythewoman thegirl towherehewasordered,andsupervisesasthemassivewallofmuscleflipsher backuptherightway
The moment Towers sets her on her feet and releases her, his charge collapses to her knees in a puddle of tears and hemorrhagingblood.
Shebecameamomminutesago Nowshe’llbecomenothing
Dust to dust, and all that shit.
“Моја beba,”shesobs,clutchingatthegrasssodirtjoinsthebloodbeneathhernails “Please ”
Timliftshishandandaimshispistol.Hedoesn’thesitate,doesn’tworry.Hesparesnotasinglethoughtfor thegirl who neverdeservedthis Onlypullsthetriggerandendsherlife BOOM.
Frompanickedsobbing,toaneeriesilence.
Eventhebabyshutshistrapandsucklesonhisfist,likeheknowshe’llbedeadifhedoesn’t
Does an infant know when their mother, the very vessel they existed within moments ago, is dead?
Does he know what Micah, and Archer, and Tim, and I knew before him?
Womenaredisposable.Wombsarebuyable.Pussies,nothingbutaconvenientholetoblowaloadin,createababyin,and thenburyinashallowgrave.
The youngwomanslams to the ground, a bleedinghole punctuatingthe center ofher forehead. Her eyes are wide open. Tears,stillwetonhercheeks.
At least she’s no longer in pain Atleastshedoesn’thavetoknowtheacheofadonabusingherson.
“Dealwithher,”Timsnapsoutforhissoldier Thenheturnsandlooksstraightpastme “Thisoneisminenow” IspininapanicandlookintoSavvy’shorrifiedeyes,thenItwistbackagainandlookintotheeyesofamonster.“No!” Antoniostepsawayfromthedeadgirl,undignifiedandbrokenonthegrass,andpointshisgunatmyfather.“No.” Butofcourse,Timpullsthetriggerasecondtimeandendsanotherlife.
I don’t watch the seven-foot man’s fall; I don’t get a chance, because Savvy’s screams wound my heart and bring me around
Flingingoutonearm,theonenotcradlingababy,Icatchmygirlfriendaroundthewaistwhensheattemptstorunrightpast meandtowardherfather
Theworldmovesinslowmotion,everythingsoclearinmymind,andyet,sofuckingfast,itleavesmedizzy. “Daddy!”
“Don’t!He’llshootyoutoo”Ibear-hugherandstarttowardthehouse Itrysofuckinghardtoholdher,andthechild,and prayIdon’tendupwithabulletinmyback.
ButTimshootsoffathirdround,thefieryslugblazingthroughmyarm,asmybrothersdasharoundthesideofthehouse andfindtheirmostrecenttraumaplayingoutinfrontofthem.
MicahgrabsSavvyfromme,andTimtakesthebaby Archeryanksmearoundandplacesmebehindhisback,despitethe facthe’stheyoungestofourfour.ThenhefacesTimothyandroars,“Whatthefuck?”
“Dealwithher.”Timclickshisfingersandhasothersoldiers,soldierswhosedaughtersdon’thangoutaroundthishouse, dashtowardthedeadgirlandhaulheruptobeburied somewhere
Agravethatisn’tdeepenough.
Onethat’llneverhaveamarkertohonorthedead Aplotwithfourothersforcompany.
FivewomenhavebirthedfiveMalonesons Butnotoneofthemlivedtotellthetale
“Takehertomyoffice,”Timpointstoanothersoldier,thoughweallknow ‘her’ meansSavannah.Thenhelooksmeinthe fuckingeyes,despiteArcher’sguard,andsmirks.“Youwillnevertellmeno,boy.” “Youshothim!”Archervibrateswitharagedeeper,darker,thanmyown “Youshotyourownson!”
“I’lldowhateverthefuckIwantwithmysons.”Hestalkscloser,stoppingonlytwofeetfromus.“Iwillwhorethemout,” hesneers “Sellthem,ifthepriceisright AndthenIwillslittheirfuckingthroatswhiletheysleep” HeswingsoutfastandslapsArcherwithanopenpalm,theclapechoingallthewayintothetrees.Thengrabbinghimby thethroatandliftinghimuntilhestandsonthetipsofhistoes,TimsmileswhenArcher’sbreathingturnsgurgledandbroken. “IwilldowhateverIwant.WheneverIwant.WithwhomeverIwant.”Hesqueezes,theknucklesofhishandturningwhite, while Archer’s face turns a dangerous puce red. “I’ll fuck your girl too.” He flashes a wicked smile and makes a show of
lookingaround atour gathering, pasthis soldiers and throughthe yard that’s large enoughwe never need to leave our own property.“Whereisthatsweetgirl,anyway?”
“Fuck,”Archerbitesoutwithnooxygen,hislarynxnodoubtbruised,“you ” Timreleaseshimwithashove,pushinghimbackuntilheslamstomychest,thenhegrabsSavvy’swristandturnshisback onus,likehe’snotafraidofaMalonerebellion
Which,Iguess,hehasnoreasontobe.Thewayhetreatshissonsisnotnew,andtodate,noneofushavestooduptohim inanyreal,significantway
“Let’sgetinside.”Micahsteersmetotheright,histouchapainfulreminderofthebulletthatpassedthroughmyarmonlya momentago.
Hewantstobringustosafety AwayfromthesmokinggunsandintothehousebeforeTimshootsoffanotherround Butmy eyesarestuckonSavvy.Onthetearsshecriesinsilence,andtoherhandtrappedinTim’sbeefygrip,fightingforthefreedom she’llneveragainhave
Herfatherisdead,andherbodyisreadytoacceptaman’s.
Evenifshedoesn’twantit
“Isaidlet’sgo!”Micahyanksmearoundanddragsmetowardthefrontstepsofourmassivemulti-storyhome.
Thebabywhineslikeheknowswe’releavinghismotherdeadanddumpedoutside,alreadyfightingagainsttheinjustices he’llforeverhavetoendure
Thisishislotinlife,nowthathe’saMaloneheir.
“Felix!”Savvyscreamsforme,cryingoutfromtheothersideofthehouse,likeshethinksIcansaveher “Felix ” “Keepwalking.”Micahpushesmeupthestairs.Awayfromthegirlmyheartbeatsfor,andintothehousethathasnoheart atall.“Yougooutthere,youdie.”
“He’sgoingtohurther.”Myeyeswaterandswell.Theystingtothesamebeatastheacheinmyheart.“He’llkillher.”
“She’salreadydead,”Archerraspsout,comingupthestairsbehindus.“It’stoolate.”
“Felix!”Savvycriesoutagain,herdespairastangibleasthetilesIstepon “Please,no Please,Mr Malone,Idon’t ”
“Stoplistening.”TimhandsArcherthebabythewayamanwouldpassafootball,thendragsmethroughthehouseandinto thekitchen
Slammingmyasstoastoolononesideofthecounter,hestridestotheoppositesideandfillsaglasswithwaterfromthe tap.
“Thebulletpassedstraightthrough,”hebitesout,settingthedrinkbymyelbowandbendingtogetafirstaidkitfromthe cupboard beneaththe thickquartzcountertop. “Ithitthe fuckinghouse,” he adds, like he could hear mysilent‘how do you know?’
“It’stimetofuckoffoutofhere.”Archerstalkstothepantryandtakesoutbabybottlesandformula.ThesuppliesTimothy acquired,knowinghe’dmurderthebaby’smotherthemomentCatoleftthewomb “Ican’tlivelikethis”
HesetsCatoonthecounter,elicitingascreechfromthechildlaidflatonafreezingsurface.Butheignoresthebabyand placestheopeningofthebottlebeneathastreamofhotwaterbeforeaddingpowdertoit.
MicahstepsaroundhimandsnagsabottleofvodkafromthepantryandsetsitdownbesideTim’selbow “Ican’tbeinthisworldanymore,”Archermutters.
“Sowhatthefuckareyougonnado?”IgrabthebottlebeforeTimcanuseittodisinfectmywound,andunscrewthelid BecauseIcanstillhearSavvy’sanguish.ThesoundI’llnevertrulyforget.
Tippingitback,Ichuguntilthebitterliquidbitesatthebottomofmyemptystomach,andpullawaywithabreathlessgasp whenthefumesstingmylungs.“Yougonnapophimandtakethethrone?Youthinkyouhavethe cojones totoppleadon?”
“I’mgonnasetthecityonfire,”hesnarls,“andwalkawaywhileTimothyburns.”
“Shutup” Tim the younger, better one snatches the liquor frommyhand and soaks a bandage withthe liquid until it drips.“Bothofyou.Shutthefuckup.”
“Iwantto go home!” Savannahcries, her voice comingcloser, as thoughsomeone maybe carryingher throughthe front door.“Please,Mr.Malone!Iwantto ”
“Eyesonme!”TimgrabsmyjawandwrenchesmyfacearounduntilI’mlookingintohis “Suckitup,”heorders “Lockit down.”
“You’djustlethimdothattosomeoneyoulove?”Tearsburnmyachingeyes,thensizzleonmyskinastheyfall.“You’dlet thishappen?”
Heshakeshisheadandslapsthesoggybandagetomyarm.“Iwon’tfallinlove,stupid.It’sbestyoulearnfromthisand bringnooneintoourworldeveragain Micah!”Hegrabsthesquallingbaby,andhandsittothethirdMaloneson “Forfuck’s sake,canyoushuthimup?”
“It’sbesthedoesn’t.”Archertakesthebabybottleandscrewsthelidon,squeezingthetipandshakingthewholethingto getwaterandpowdermixing.“Betterwelistentohimthantoher.”
Withagroan,Idropmyheadandhardenmyheart.
Mentalk.Agirlcries.TimothyMalone,themanwhofatheredme,takesateentohisbedroomandrapesher. It’sthatblackandwhite.
Thatcold
Thatfuckingsimple.
Shewasmine,andnowshe’shis
And if the world wants to be especially cruel, he’ll impregnate her, and she’ll be the mother to my next brother.
“I’mgonnabesick”IturnawayfromthecounterandbrushTim’shandsaway Idon’tlethimstitchmeup,thoughIknow heknowshow.We’vealldoneitforeachotherovertheyears.Idon’tlethim bandagemeup.Idon’tevenwaitforArchertostufftherubberteatofabottleinsideabrand-newbaby’smouth.Instead,Islide offthe stool and land onachingfeet, and while Savvycries outindespair a floor above, or maybe two or three, Istumble throughthekitchenandleavebehindthoseIlove.
Mybrothers,bredtobemycompetitors,myenemies,ifTimothyhadhisway Butthey’remyallies,really Inawarnoneof ussignedupfor.
I stride across shiny, Italian stone tiles, and lope across the threshold in the same moment Cato’s mouth is filled with rubber,andSavvy’swith…somethingelse.
Thenewsilenceiseerie.Sickening.SoIstumbleoutsideandeyetheOlympic-sizedpoolinthemiddleofourbackyard.
I’m a coward Not a man
I’vesacrificedaninnocentgirl,handingherlifeoverinfavorofmyown.
Icouldtakemygunupthosestairsandmakerightwhat’shappeningatthisexactmoment Butthat’snotwhatIdo I’mnot braveenoughorstrongenoughtostanduptothearmythatismyfatherandhismen.Instead,Iwalkstraightofftheedgeofthe patio,overthelipofthepool,andsinkbeneaththesurfaceofthefrigidwatersothechlorinestingsmyeyesandmynewfound silenceisarelieffromthealternative.
I’mnoman.
I’mnothing
I’mTimothy Malone’s second-born son; my very existence, a punishment. But by walking away and leaving Savannah upstairswithamanwhotakeswhat’snotreadilygiven,I’vesetmyselfupforalifetimeofbeingcursed I’mnolessabeastforallowingthistohappenthanheisforowningthehandsthatbruiseher.
slammyhips forward,mycockfillingthe sweetmouthofa womanwhose job,whose verypurpose,is toplease me.Her tongueworksmagicalongthelengthofmyshaft,andherteeth,justthreateningenoughtomakeablowjobexciting “Deeper.” I fist her longhair and pull her forward, mycockbruisingthe backof her throat, so tears fill her eyes and mascaraleaksontoher cheekswhenthemoisturedribblesfromher lashes.“Fuck.”Iknow Ihurther.Iknow Itakepleasure and returnnone Butthis is the deal she made whenshe agreed to come to bed withme Consentwas given “Swallow me down.”
“Lix”Micahstops inthedoorwayofmyoffice androlls his eyes skywardwhenhefinds mestandingbymydesk,my pantspusheddowntomyknees,andLacey… Lara? Lauren? Fuck
Ipushherbackuntilshereleasesmycockwithagasp.“What’syourname?”
“T-Tessa,” she stammers, bringing her hand up and wiping the smudged lipstick fromaround her mouth. “My name is Tessa”
Questionanswered,Ibringherforwardagainandguideherbackaroundmycock.Thengrinning,IlooktoMicahandraise abrow “Givemeaminute Tessa’sbusy”
Heshakeshishead,butdoesn’tbringhiseyesbackdown.“Dantewantstomeetwithyou.Today.”
“Dantecansuckmycock,too”IgritmyteethasTessadrawsmeclosertotheedge Closertocompletion Whichisn’ta favorI’llreturnforher.“Bringhiminandlinehimup,I’mnotshy.”
“Hewantstotalkeasterndistribution.”Hesighs.“Timothy’sdead,Lix,andtheother threeMalonesareinCopeland.So thisisonyounow”
“Timothydeserved it.” And why, why does thinkingabouthimbeingdead make me hard? Surely, that’s somethingfolks withdegreesdiscussintextbooks “Hedeservedworse”
“Yeah,well,it’sdonenow.Andyouhaven’treturnedDante’scallsinaweek.”
“I’mnothis fuckinsecretary.” Itightenmyhand inTessa’s hair and elicita squeakofpainfromdeep inher throat. She doesn’tmind, though. No, she slips her lefthand betweenher legs to bringherselfpleasure. “I’ll speakto Dante whenI’m fuckinready.”
“Archer’sflippingoutaboutCatoandsomechick”
“Archer’salwaysflippingout.”Mybreathcomesfaster.Faster,asTessadrawsmetoapeak.“Heneedstorelax.”
“Minkatexted,and ”
IbiteoutaroaranddrenchTessa’sthroatwithmyhot,saltycum,myreleasedrainingmeuntilIwanttoslump.Myorgasm, aresultofhearingmyfavoritesister-in-law’sname.
Archwoulddestroymeifhefoundout.His loyaltytohis brothers is fragileatbest,buthis devotiontothegooddoctor, MinkaMayet,isabsolute.
Imean,heknowsI’dclimbintobedwithherifIevergotthechance ButIdoubthe’sawarethathernamealonecanmake meexplode.
Some things are better left unsaid Or so they say
“You’reasickfuckinman,”Micahgroans, knowing whatI’vejustdone.Finally,hebringshiseyesdownandregardsthe womanwhoswallowsmyseedandcontinuestobringherselfpleasure.
Shefingersherselfandmoansinresponsetoherowntouch Makessoundsthatwouldenticeatypicalmantojoininand helpherout.
ButI’mnotatypicalman,andIhavenodesiretobringherpleasure
Pullingmycockfrombetweenher lips, still hard despite myrelease, Igive her a patonthe head, a dismissal, and step
aroundhernakedform.Donewithmyguest,Ituckmyred-ringedcockbackintomypantsandslidethezipperup.Ifixmyshirt andbucklemybeltasIwalk,andbythetimeIreachmybrotheratthedoor,I’mfullypresentableagaininasuit,jacket,and shoesmostmenwillseetheirreflectionin meresecondsbeforeIkicktheirskullsopen
“CallDanteandtellhimtosendmeaproposal.IhavenointerestinsittingdownandchattingwithhimbeforeIseewhat he’soffering”ThenIflashawildgrinandadd,“CallMinkaandtellherI’mthinkingofher”
“I’lldooneofthosethings.”HeturnsonhisheelsandstartsoutofmyofficeanddownthesamehallIranthelengthofa milliontimesinmyyouth Almostturningright,towardmyfather’soldheadquarters,likeahabithe’sneverquitegottenridof, Micahcatcheshimselfandturnsleft,massaginghisdamagedhandwiththeother.
Helostafingerafewmonthsback,toafamilywhodecidedwestolefromthem.Wetooktheirturf,sotheytookhisdigit. ButbecausePastore’sattackonmybrotherwasconsideredunprovoked,weweregivenpermissiontosnapbackandnotrisk wrathfromthemanwhocontrolsusall.Intheend,wetookPastore’sturf,hishand,hishome,andhisgirl.Becauseyoudon’t fuckoveraMaloneandnotexpecttheotherfourtoturnupandmakeshitright
“Cato’sstartingcollegesoon.”Micahpivotsatthetopofthestairsandcontinuesdown,knowingI’llfollow.
Becausethoughmynameandfacerepresenttheheadofthisfamily,heandIareequals
Whenshitgoesdownandrivalswantblood,it’smetheycomefor.Butwhendiscussionsaretobehadanddecisionsmade, hisvoicemattersjustasmuchasmine.
ThisisthewayIwantit ThisistheprotectionIcanoffer
Already,threeofusfiveMalonesareoutofthecityandlivingalifeofblissbeyondthetiestothemafiaunderworldand thehistoryofbadblood Ourbrothersvisitwhenit’sfun,andstepinwhenit’sneeded Butasfarasday-to-daydangergoes, it’sjustmeandMicahleftinthefiringline.
AndIwillalways, always stepforwardtoshieldhim.
“CatowantsustoswingbyCopelandbeforeorientationday,”hesays,glancingbackoverhisshoulderaswetraversethe stairs.“Probablymissinghisdaddyfigure,yaknow?”
Scoffing,Islipmyhandsintomypocketsasweroundthethirdfloorandcontinuedowntothesecond “I’mnothisdaddy, Micah.I’mjusttheboogeymanhesawinhisroomeverynightofhisyouth.”
“Well, his real father was no father to him,” he rumbles, his shoulders bunchingand growinglarger as we approachthe bottomfloor. We pass soldiers at everydoor. Oneverylanding. Ineveryhall. But they’re part of the furniture these days, sentries we were raisedto ignore. Guns to exploitwhenthe needarises. “Youwere the bestthinghe got whichwas more thantherestofushad.”
“Therestofushadeachother.”Imoveoffthelaststepandlookleft,towardthefrontdoor,thentotherightwhenMicah ambles thatway “Maybe Timthe Second beatus blackand blue, and maybe he destroyed our innocence longbefore a boy shouldbestolenfrom,butatleastwewereinittogether.”
“Smallmercies Notsurethetrade-offwasworthit”
“I’dratherbeinhellwithmybrothersthananywhereelsealone.”
Myphonetrills,vibratinginmybackpocketanddemandingmyattention,soalthoughIkindawanttoheadoutsideandfeel thesunonmyskin,Iturnrighttogodeeperintothehouse,fishthedevicefreeofmypants,andgroanwhenIfindDante’sname onthescreen.
Swipingtoaccept,IfollowMicahtothekitchenandbringthephonetomyear “What?”
“Sir.Iwashopingtotalktoyouabout ”
“Easterndistribution,”Icutin “Yeah,Iheard Itoldyoutostopwastingmyfuckingtimewithoutabusinessplandrawnup andsomethingsubstantialformetosee.”
“Ab Abusinessplan,sir?”
“Thisisabusiness,dickhead”Istrollintothekitchenandmakeabeelineforthefridge “Iknowthingsarestillfreshfor you,Dante,andTimdidthingsalittledifferently,buttheMaloneshavenewmanagement.Wehaveabusinesstorun,soifyou wantmyattention,you’llactlikeaprofessionalandbringmewhatIasked”
While I openthe refrigerator door and take out a canof Pepsi, Micahgrabs the televisionremote and switches onthe screenperchedhighonthewallintheoppositecorner Areporter,Dorysomething,immediatelyappears
“I’m standing with Christabelle Cannon, heiress to the CannonDailyTribute, and the number one crime journalist in the city of New York. Ms. Cannon,”DorySomethingturnstothebrunettebombshellonherleftandshovesamicrophoneinher face,“we work for the people, both of us Is there anything you can tell us in regards to the Malone family power shift?” “We work for the people,”Christabelleagrees,her eyeshard,andher nose,toofuckinperkynottonotice,“but I do not work for you ” Shelookstothecamera,straightintomyeyes,andsmirks,likesheknowshergazemakesmycockhard “Get your copies of the Cannon Daily tomorrow. Available at every newsstand across the city. If you want to know what is happening in our city, to the people we serve, you’ll read my column and follow our call to action ” “Can’tbe thaturgent,” Micahdrawls, tossingthe remote onthe counter and turningawayfromthe interview. “Ifitwas breakingnews,she’dbreakitalready.”
“Gotta sell newspapers,” I murmur, then I bring my focus back to Dante. “Be like Ms. Cannon, dickhead. Work the business.Makemoney.Becomeindispensable.Onlythendoyougettocallmyprivatelineandexpectmetoanswer.”
Tuggingthephonefrommyearandkillingourcall,Iturnfromthefridgeandbringmysodatothecounter “He’sapussy, Micah.He’suselesstous.”
“HewasimportanttoTim”Shrugging,hetakesouttheverysamestoolIsatonwhenIhadafleshwoundonmyarmanda baby,stilldirtywithhismother’sblood,screamingthehousedown.Micahdropsontohisseatwithnoclueofthedirectionmy mind wanders, then grabs an already poured glass of water and turns it between his fingers “Tim trusted him with distribution.”
“AndTimrottedinhisownskin,anddiedwithshitinhisdiaper,withnowaytofightwhatwashurtinghim.”Ipopthetab ofmysodaandcomearoundtostopontheoppositesideofthecounter “Timisnolongerthestandardbywhichwerunour business,Micah.Norhowwerunthisfamily.”
“How do we runthis family?” he counters seriously, his greeneyes glitteringwithchallenge “Youinherited anempire, Lix.Coke,money,guns,andwomen.Buttheveryfirstthingyoudoiscutthatlastoneoff,andtellalltheotherstowriteyoua business plan Whatthefuckisthat?Morality?”
“Iwon’tsellwomen.”Ibringmydrinkup,moretobuymyselftimethantowetmythroat.Becausefuck,I’mnotevensureI know whatI want.“Idon’tknow whatthis is gonna looklike a year fromnow,” Iadmit,loweringmysoda andmeetinghis hardstare “ButIknowI’mnottakinggirlsbeforethey’vehadachancetobleed,andsellingthemtothedirtiest,richestfucker atauction.”
“Girlsmakemoney!”
“Sowebuymoreclubsandletthemdanceforit!Buttheydancebecausetheywantto,andtheyfuckwhoevertheywanna fuck.”
“Lix ”
“Evenifwesetmylimitedmoralityaside,andthefactArchisacop,youknowMinkawon’thaveit.Sheflat-outtoldus. AndIdon’tknowwhatyouseewhenyoulookatthatwoman,Micah,butIdon’tseeawallflower She’snodamsel,standing byandlettingushurttheinnocent.It’snothappening.Sogetthefuckoveritandmoveon.”
“Incomestreamshavedriedupbyhalf!”hebooms,hisvoiceechoingfromtiletoceiling “Half,Lix!Moralsarefun,but starvingmenareknowntosetthemasideforameal.”
“Goodthingwe’renotstarving,then.”Ipushuptostandandgroanwhenmyphonetrillsagain. Iwanttoignoreit.Iwanttoignoreeveryfuckingthingandsitinsilence.ButofcourseIcan’t.
Itakeoutthedeviceandspyanamethathasthepowertomakemedanceonastageifthat’swhatthemanwants,butIlook tomybrother andreiterate,“Wearenotstarving Wehaveplentyofsavings storedaway Socalmthefuckdownandgeton boardwiththeneworder.”
I swipe myphone to answer and start toward the backdoor “Mr Cordoza” The boss of all bosses, New YorkCity’s kingpinhimself.“Howareyoudoingtoday?”
“There’sagirlonthetelevision,Malone.”
EstefanCordoza is old enoughto be someone’s grandpa, but so powerful, he could snuffme and mybrothers out inan instant.Eventhebrotherswholiveacrossthecountry.
Hisreachgoesfar,andkeepsmeandeveryoneelseIknowinline “Cannon,”heclarifies.“Shecausingtroubleforyou?”
“No”Ipushthroughthebackdoorandemergeontothepatiooutside,takinginthelateafternoonsunlightglisteningoffthe pool’ssurface,andthespringflowersbloomingineverypocketoftheyard.“She’sgotnothing,Mr.Cordoza.Anyonewhohas somethingeitherwantstosellitbacktous,orwillbreakitthesecondtheyhaveit.She’sjustnoise.”
“She’sloud Loudisonlygoodwhenyoucommandit Doyouhavecontrolofthis,Felix,orareyouaskingmetostepin?” Ha!
Formetoaskhimtostepinwouldbetooweafavortothemostpowerfulmobbossinthecountry Not a fucking chance.
OnethingTimothytheSecondtaughtmewastobeweakfornoone Nofavorsowed,nomerciesgiven “Ihaveitundercontrol.”IstopattheedgeofthepoolanddropmyfreehandintomypocketasIwatchmymenwalkthe groundsofmyproperty.
Largeguns,largermuscle,andallofthemcountingonmetokeepthememployed ItmightnotbeworkthattheIRSorFBI approve of, butthese menhave families. Mortgages. Wives who probablysucksomeone else’s dick. Divorces to fund, and childsupportpaymentstomake
“I’llshutherdown,Mr.Cordoza.Youhavemyword.”
“Good.” He puffs onsomethingonhis end ofthe line a cigar, I bet whichmakes mystomachtugwithwant, thenhe exhalesandsmilessoIcanhearitinhisvoice.“Seethatyoudo.I’llhaveyouovertothehousefordinnerthisweek.” It’snotaninvitation,butanorder.
“I’d love to come.” I reachinto the breast pocket of myjacket and take out a crumpled packof cigarettes withgarish pictures printed on the side. Something about cancer. Death. Don’t smoke, it’s bad for you. Selecting one and settling it betweenmylips,Iputthepacketawayandreplaceitwithalighter “Nametheday,”Itellhim “Myscheduleisalwaysopen foryou.”
“Feelfreetobringyoursister-in-law,”hechuckles,histoneentirelytoofriendly “Shemakesmecurious,thatone” “Minka?” Ilightmycigarette and inhale until Ifeel the nicotine deep inmylungs. “She’s a bitodd. Inthe bestway,” I amendquickly,becausegodforbidIoffendtheoldguy “Butstill,odd” “She’samedicalexaminer?”hequestions,thoughIknowheknows.“Marriedtoacop.”
ThatcopisArcherfuckingMalone.Mybrother.Andthefacthe’smarriedtothechiefM.E.whoCordozahasasoftspotfor isthe only reasonthekingpindidn’trunmeoverthesecondTimdiedtwomonthsago “I’llletherknowyou’veaskedafterher.” “Dothat”Friendlinessover,hisvoicehardens “TakecareofMs Cannon,Malone Orbeartheconsequencesofherbig mouth.Iwon’tmakethiscallasecondtime.”
“I’llhaveherdealtwith Goodday,Mr Cordoza” Hegruntsinthebackofhisthroat,partacknowledgement,partdoubt.“Goodbye,Felix.”
CHRISTABELLECANNON
IHAVEAJOBTODO
hrissy.”Davisduckshisheadintomycornerofficeandflashesasmilelikeheknowshe’shandsome.
Which, he is He’s one ofNew York’s mostsuccessful journalists He’s unmarried, single, and withno divorces underhisbelt,andnokidstosupport.
Though,forsomepeculiarreason,hethinkshisboss’daughteristhedirectionheshouldpointhisattentions.
No thank you
IhaveafancyofficeinsidethisbuildinginupperManhattan,andmypaycheckboastsdigitsfarexceedingmyexperience, education,andtalents Mylifeiscomfortable,andsomeday,alongtimefromnow,I’llinherittheempiremyfatherbuilt Maybethat’sDavis’long game.Fornow,he’smyboss.Mydirectsupervisor,whoreportsonlytotheCEOandpublisher MichaelCannon,myfather Butperhapseditor-in-chiefisn’twherehisfinalsightsareset Davis is a mandrivenbythe hustle and bustle ofour massive New YorkCitypublication. He thrives ondeadlines, and laughsinthefaceofchaos.
Honestly,he’salittlecrazy ThoughI’myettodecideifit’s good crazy or bad crazy Eitherway,heflickersatoothygrinnowandtipshisheadinbeckoning.“Followmetomyoffice,please.Iwanttodiscuss theMalonearticle”
“Sure.”Igrabmylaptopandphone,thoughI’mnotgoingfar justtotheofficebesidemine thenInodforDanatojoin us She’smyshadowinsidethisbuilding Mysentryandmyguard She’salsomyassistant,andexecutivecoffee-getter “Come on.”
“Yes,Ms.Cannon.”
She’s a nervous being Shorter thanmyfive-five,androunder byaboutdouble Butshe’s damngoodather job,intuitive enoughtoensureourdaysrunsmoothly,andsmartenoughtostopmebeforeImakeamessofthings.
Well upuntilthisMaloneexposéI’vebeenworkingon
“Yourarticlewenttoprintthismorning,Chrissy.”BeforeIevencrossthethresholdtoDavis’office,helopestotheother sideofhisdeskandsitsdowninatallleatherchair.Foldingonelegovertheother,hewatchesmesetmythingsdownandsit in one of two visitor chairs. “We sold a hundred thousand more copies today than we have any other Tuesday since twothousandandnineteen.ThankstoyourlittleappearanceonChannelTwenty-Oneyesterday.”
Myfingerspricklewithnervousexcitement “Soitworked,then”Isitontheedgeofmyseatandleanclosertothedesk “Givetheaudienceatasteofwhattheywanttohear,tellthemwhattheyneedtobuytogetmore,andthenwesitbackandreap therewardsofawormwelldangled”
His brown eyes, warm like melted chocolate, dance with approval. “It doesn’t work indefinitely. But when you have somethingbiggoingout…”
“People want to know about the Malones, Davis.” Isnatchup myphone, as thoughto show himthe results Ipulled on publicinterestthisweek,butIdon’tunlockthescreen.Idon’tbother.Idon’tneedto,tomakemypoint.“OldmanMalonewas apowerfuldonforseveraldecades Hediedtwomonthsago,undersuspiciouscircumstances Noonehasseenthebody No M.E.hasofficiallydeclaredthemandead.He’sjust…disappeared.Andthepeopleofthiscityarecuriousenoughtowonder whatthehellhappened”
“Whisperssayhediedofcancerandhissonsburiedhimouttheback.”
Ichokeoutasoftlaughandliftasingleshoulderinacceptance.“It’spossiblethat’sexactlywhathappened.Hehadstopped makingpublicappearancesmonthsprior,andthere’sbeennowarsince Iftherehadbeen,itmightimplyhisdeathwasaresult ofanother family’s actions. But, ” Ismile whenDavis opens his mouthto speak, “whatever happened, whatever is currently happeninginsidethatworld,thepeoplearecurious”
“Youscammedthereaders.”Hetakesaletteropenerfromhisdeskandholdsitbetweenhisfingers.“Youpromisedthem
juicyheadlines.”
“AndIdelivered.”IacceptasteamingcoffeefromDanawhensheoffersitandturnbacktomyboss’muddystare.“Archer Malone is still a Malone He’s a newlywed His bride, Mayet, is a powerful woman This is information the people will want.”
“Youdoxedacopwhodoesn’tevenliveonthissideofthecountry Areyousofearless?” “Youapprovedthepiece!”
Hegrinsandsetsdownhisletteropener “I’mnotcriticizing,Chrissy I’monlylayingoutthefacts Youpromisedastory on the New York Malones, you delivered a story on a Copeland Malone and his doctor wife. Not only are you risking unwantedattentionfromthemob,butyou’repissingoffcops,too.”
“AndImadethiscompanythreemilliondollars Today I’dsaymyexperimentwasasuccess”
“Andtomorrow?Whatwillyoupublishtokeepthemomentumgoing?”
“I’mgonnakeeppushingthissamebuttonuntilsomethingjuicypopsout”Settingmyphoneasideandopeningmylaptop,I turnthescreenandshowDaviswhatIwasgoingtoemailinamatterofminutesanyway.“FelixisthefaceoftheMalonesnow, liketheyheldameetinganddeclaredhimclassrepresentative I’mgoingafterhimuntilImakeustenmillioninamorning”
“He’smob,Chrissy!”Hegrabsmylaptopanddragsitclosertoskimmyarticle.“He’srumoredtohavekilleddozensof men. Those same rumors hintatdozens more the cops are tryingto prove. He’s knownto torture menand scatter their body parts in the Hudson” His eyes scour my article and stop on tidbits I’ve already read a million times today, then when he reachestheend,theypinmeoverthetopofthelaptop,burningwithintensity.“Youwillingtobehisnextvictim?”
“I’mwillingtoexposehim”Isitback,fauxrelaxed,andbringmycoffeeuptohidethetremorinmylips “He’sabadman, Davis.Hedeservestorotforthethingsheandhisfamilyhavedonetothiscity.”
“WhileIencouragetenacityandbravejournalism,”heclosesmylaptopandsteepleshisfingers,“I’dhateforsomethingto happentoyoubeforewe’vehadachancetoexplore… us. ”
“Wehadourdate.”IshoveupfrommyseatandpassmycoffeetoDanasoIdon’tspillitonmyshoes.Bendingoverthe deskinmypencil skirtanda blouse thatmaybe shows hima little more cleavage thanI’dlike,Igrabmylaptopandphone “Wetriedexploringus,Davis.Itdidn’twork.”
“Itdidn’t not work” He reaches outfastand wraps his palmaround mywrist, holdingsteadywhenthe restofmybody attemptstoturnaway.
Themomentumyanksmeback,andtheedgeofthedeskbruisesmyhipwhenIswinghisway.
“Wehadagoodtime,Chrissy.”Hesitsforward,tuggingmecloseruntilourfacesarejustteninchesapart.Hiscolognein mylungs,andhisbreathonmyskin.“Wehaddinner…drinks…”
We went to bed, and I ran away before the sheets were warm “Idon’tthinkmixingworkand sexis smart.” Carefully, Islide myarmfromhis grip and hugmylaptop to mychest. “It neverworksoutwell”
“Itcould.”Hepushesuptostandandfixeshiscoat,straighteningthefabricandfasteningthebuttoninfront.“Whatwehad wasspecial.”
What we had was less than pleasant
ThemomentIhadtofakeanorgasmorriskbruisinghisfragileegowasthemomentIknewIneededtogetoutofthere.
“I’mfocusingonmyworkrightnow”Iliftmychinandscanhissix-footframeuntilImeethisstare “Blazingmyownpath isimportanttome,Davis.Imightsomedaybecomethepublisherhere ”
“Asisyourbirthright It’syoursforthetaking”
“I’dliketoearnit.”Itakeastepback,andthenanothertothelefttoavoidcrashingintomychair.“Perhapstheconclusion isinevitable,butI’datleastliketoknowI’mworthy.”
“AndyouthinkpokingtheMalonebearwillgetyouthere?”
“Noguts,noglory,right?”Ispinandcrosstheofficebeforehehasachancetograbmeagain.ButthenIstopatthedoor andlookbacktomeethis eyes “You’reagoodeditor,Davis AndI’magoodwriter Let’s combineour efforts andturnthe Cannon Daily intosomethinghuge.WehaveNewYork.Ifweworkforit,wecouldtakethewholecountry.”
“Andyourdad?”Heleansagainsthisdeskanddropshishandsinhispockets “Whenwillhedeigntorejoinus?”
“He’s gettingoninage. He worked hard all his life. Let himenjoyhis vacation, knowinghis companyis incompetent hands.Dana.”Iturnonfour-inchheelsandstartbacktowardmyownoffice,myshadowclosebehind.
Itradehermylaptopforthecoffee,andbringthelatteruptosip “Let’sgettoworkonFelixMalone’shistory I’vealready writtentomorrow’spiece,butIneedsomethingelseforthenextday.Andthedayafterthat.Let’sturnthisintoamini-seriesif we must” Icross the threshold and move throughmyoffice, steppingfromornate tile to a lushMoroccanrug “Iwant our readerssalivatingfortheirnextpeekintoafamilywhohasneverbeeninthespotlightunlessitsuitedthem.”
“Yes, Ms. Cannon.” She sets mylaptop onmydeskand flops downinto the visitor chair, the spotshe occupied before Davisinterruptedus.
Grabbing her files and a pen, she goes back to scouring archived articles and tossing the relevant ones onto my desk.
“Permissiontospeakfreely,Ms.Cannon?”
IwalktothewindowsoverlookingManhattan,andsnigger.“YouthinkI’madrillsergeant,Dana?”Turning,Ilookacross tomeethermilkyeyes “I’llshootyouifyouspeakwithoutpermission?” “Idon’t…I ”Sheclapsherlipsshutandshrugs.“Ihopenot.”
“Speakfreely”Ileanbackagainstapaneandabsorbthewarmthofaspringdayonglass “I’mnotmyfather Hell,”Iadd asanafterthought,“I’mnotDavis.I’dlikeforyoutospeakwhenever,however.Unfiltered.Fortheloveofgod,I’mdonewith filters”
Stillnervous,shecastsaglancetothedoorway,thenbacktome.Leaningcloser,shehalf-whispers,“Didyoureallyhave sexwithDavis?”
“Ohgod”Barkingoutalaugh,Iturntothecity,knowingmyfaceburnshotwithembarrassment “Yepppp Isuredid” “Onpurpose?Like…consensually?”
My chest and shoulders bounce with muted laughter Poor thing, she’d probably be fired already if she asked these questions of anyone else. “Itwasonpurpose,”Iadmit.“Thoughitwasn’taproudmomentforme.” “Lowself-esteem?Really?Whenawomanlookslikeyou,Iimagineyoucould yaknow pickwhoeveryouwant” “Idon’tenjoysocializing.”Ilowermyvoicewhenthemaninquestionwalkspastmydoorandcontinuestowardtheheart ofour floor,where columnists converge the wayworker bees surroundtheir queen.“Idon’tlike dating.Idon’tlike meeting newpeople”Glancingovermyshoulder,Imeetherstareandsmirk “Iwasgoingonatwo-yeardrystreak,andhewasthere Itwasconvenient.”
“Wasitworthit?”
“Nope.” Itugmychair outfromunder mydeskand flop downwitha huffso the air inmyseatcushionexpels noisily. “Definitelynot.Now let’s talkaboutFelixMalone.IwanttofigureoutmynextangleandgetahandleonwhatI’mgoingto write.IhavethatdinnertonightwiththeEriksons,thenI’llbegoinghomeandgettingstartedonmynextpiece.”
ana and Iworkuntil after six, scouringpapers and gossipingaboutthe Malone brothers, as eachofthemturnup inthe media over the years There are five intotal Plus their now-deceased patriarch Three of the five sons have left New York,andsinceFelixhasclaimedtheheadofthetableinthetimefollowinghisfather’spassing allegedor not he’swho wefocusonaswereadandmakenotes.
Thesunstill shinesbrightoutside,despitethehour,andeveningtrafficfillsthestreetsbelow theCannonDailybuilding. Carsmoveslowly,theirdriversmorethanlikelyofficeworkersrejoiningthetreadmilloflife,wheretheybattletoleavethe cityandmaketheirwayintooneofthemanysurroundingboroughstogethometotheirfamilies
TheycomeintoManhattanforthepaycheck,buttheycommutebackoutagain,becausenoonecanaffordrealestatewithin athirty-mileradiusofLadyLiberty
I pack up my work around six-thirty, my thoughts dragging and my eyes straining; a reminder I should be wearing my glassesandyet,anotherdayhaspassedandIforgottoslipthemon.
“IthinkweshouldincorporatetheMalonemothers,”Imurmur,myvoicelowfromexhaustion
I’ll need to perk up before dinner. Istillhaveagowntoslipinto,hairtostyle,makeuptoapply.Notleastofall,contacts toslapagainstmyeyeballs,andanxietytoovercomeabouthavingthemthere
Swallowingtheoddballofnervesinmythroat,IclosethelidofmylaptopandglanceacrossmydesktoDana’sequally tiredface “Fivesons Fivemothers Someoftheirpregnanciesoverlapped,ifthebrothers’birthdaysareanindication”
“AndthentherewasCato,”sheaddswistfully.“Allthoseyearslater.”
“Hewasaminoruntilthisyear.”Iopenmydeepestdeskdrawerandtakeoutmypurse,settingitontopofmylaptopand droppingthingsinside Keys Phone Chapstick “Alltheothersareintheirthirtiesnow It’sinteresting,don’tyouthink?”Islip mylaptopoutfrombeneathmybagandplaceitinsideinstead.“Fivewomenjust…”Iliftmyhands, ta-da.“Poof.Gone.”
“Well It’s the mafia” She sits backinher seatand looks up atthe ceiling “Youcan’texpectto go to bed withthese people,produceanheir,andlivetotellthetale.”
“Butwhynot?Whynotkeepthesamebabymamauntilyou’vegotallthesonsyouwant,and then disposeofher?”
“Maybe Malone was ina rushto get themall bakingas quicklyas possible? One womanmeans one babyat a time assumingtherearenomultiples.Butonemanandseveralwomen…theopportunitiesareendless.”
“Sure”Ipickupmybagandslipmyarmthroughthestraps Then,steppingaroundmydesk,Istarttowardthedoor,onlyto stopagainandlookbacktofindDanastillsitting.Stilltired.
Ittakesheramomenttocatchon,thenanotherforherbraintoclickintoaction,butsheeventuallybustlesupwithaburstof energyandboundsfromthechairtofollowme.
“Butwantingtomakeabunchofbabiesatoncedoesn’treallyexplainCatoattheend,”Ipointout.
“MaybeTimothywasn’thappywiththefourhehad,”sheponders,stridingthroughmyofficedoorbeforeholdingitforme topasssecond “Maybetheyweren’tdoingwhathewanted,sohefiguredhe’dmakemore” “Possibly.”Myheels clip-clip-clip alongtile,myeyesfocusedsolelyontheelevatorattheveryendofthelongroom.“But thatposes its ownissues One, ifhe wanted a bunchmore, whystop withCato? And two, the factthatFelixhas takenover wherehisfatherleftoffkindofimpliestheboysaredoingexactlywhathewanted.”
“ThreeofthefiveleftNewYork,”shecounterscautiously,hittingthecallbuttonontheelevatorwhenshe’scloseenoughto touch. “Yousaid ityourself. The oldest, also named Tim, would have beenthe natural successor, no? Buthe left. Thatsays troubleinthefamily.”
“He didn’t leave till after the youngest boy was born” Data sprints through my mind Dates Names I’ve filed and memorizedanunhealthyamountofinformationonthisfamilyalready,andyet,Ifeel likewe’vebarelyscratchedthesurface. “Howcouldheseeintothefuture?HewasalreadycreatingmoresonsbeforeTimothytheThirdleft”
“Maybehefeltdissentintheranks.”Shestepsintotheelevatorwhenthedoorsopen,andselectsthebuttonforthelobby beforeIcanreachforitmyself “Tensionsareapalpablething,Ms Cannon HeprobablyknewTimwantedout”
“Andyet,”Idebate,enjoyingtheebbandflowofagoodold-fashionedsparringsession.Wordsaremyweapon;mysharp memory, myblade. “The nexttwo sons inline, Felixand Micah, stayed rightwhere theywere. He had plentyofbackups to choosefrom Sowhymakeanother?Andwhythatwoman?”
Finally,Danaliftshershoulders.“Unsafesexmakesbabies.ItcouldbeasimplecaseofOops, knocked her up. He’s a boy, so we’ll keep him ”
“Mm.Andsincewe’reonthesubject,”Istridefromtheelevatorwhenthedoorsopen,irritatedaswestarttowardthefront doors ofour opulentbuilding. “Whatare the chances ofonlyconceivingboys? Five differentmothers, five differentsets of DNA,andhe only makessons?”
IpushthroughtheheavyglassdoorsandfindEdwardwaitingformeontheotherside.“Theoddsagainstsuchanoutcome areastronomical,Dana Arewetobelievehehitthegeneticjackpotthateasily,orwillwefindinfantgirlsburiedsomewhere withtheirmothers?”
“Idon’t ”
Mypoorassistant’scheekspalewhentherealityhitsher.“Idon’tknow.”
“Exactly.”ButIlooktomydriverandsmileasheopensmydoor.“Thankyou,Edward.” “Home,Ms.Cannon?”
“Yes,please.Butonlyforanhour.IhavetobeattheEriksons’penthousebyeight.”ImeetDana’seyesonelasttime.“I’m notstoppingonthisone It’sgonnabemessy,andit’llupsetsomefolks But,”Isetmybaginsidethecarandslideinafterit, “it’llsellmillionsofpaperseachmorning.”
“You’relookingtotakeonthemafia,”sherasps,movingclosertomydoorasEdwardmerelywaits,theperfectgentleman “Haveyounosenseofdanger?”
“Ihaveathirsttouncoverthetruth,”Icounter,reachingformydoorhandle.“Butyouhavenothingtoworryabout.It’s my namethat’llbeatthebottomofeverypublishedcolumn”Andwithawink,Itugthedoorclosed,andopenmybaginsearchof myphoneasEdwardcirclesthecarandsettlesinfortheshort-ishdrivehome.
Unlikethecommuters Iwatchedfrommyofficewindow earlier,Ihaveanapartmentinthecity: amulti-level penthouse, paidforwithCannon Daily money.Agiftfrommyfatherforhisonlyadultchild.
Michael Cannondidn’tfussoverthesexofhischildren Hedidn’tkill mebecauseofwhatIhavebetweenmylegs And thoughhe,too,has anempiretopass downwhenhis timeis up,myfather doesn’tseemtomindthateverythinghe’s created willgotoawoman.
TimothyMalone,ontheotherhand,mightbedeadnow,rottingintheground,orwearingcementshoesatthebottomofthe river. Buthe still raised those boys inhis image. So ifIthink, for evena second, theymightrespectwomenenoughto not murderthemwhenthey’veservedtheirpurpose,thenImayaswellsurrendermyselfnowandacceptmyfate I’mgutsyenoughtorunthestory.ButI’mnotsonaïveastothinkthisisn’tarisk.
“Gooddaytoday,Ms Cannon?”
IglanceuptofindEdward’ssweetblueeyesintherearviewmirror,hisstaremakingsureI’mstillinonepiece.Amission that,I’mcertain,wasbestoweduponhimbymyfatherwhenhegotthejobmorethanadecadeago.“Youseemupbeat,despite theshadowsunderyoureyes”
“I’malwaysupbeat.”
ButIglancedownwithafrownwhenmyphonechirps,Davis’nameflashingonthescreen IthoughtI’descapedunscathed.Ithoughtmyquick-stepoutoftheCannonbuildingwasmyownpersonalvictory.Butnow hebeckonsme.
AndifIignorehim,he’llcastigatemetomorrow.
Islidemythumbacrossthescreentoacceptthecall.“ThisisChristabelle.”
“Chrissy.”Heexhalesmynamelikeitsomehowfeelsgoodinhislungs.“Youleftwithoutsayinggoodbye.” “Ihaveathingtonight.”Idropmyheadbackandclosemyeyes,thankfulIcantrustEdwardtotakemewhereIneedtogo. “Dinneratafriend’s”
“Andyoudidn’taskmetoescortyou?”He tut-tuts.“Chrissy,youoffendme.” Irollmyeyes,evenbehindmyeyelids,andswallowdownthegroanofimpatiencefightingtosurface
Davis Huntington is, according to all the gossip rags, the most desired bachelor in the city if we’re discussing lawabidingmen,thatis ButIknowhimtobeneedyandwhiny Atotalboreunlesswe’retalkingabouthim He wants todiscuss his teeth.His abs andvisits tothe gym.His eatingregimen,whichconsists ofonlybroccoli,boiled eggs,andchicken,becausegodforbidheconsumeacarbandsullyhis temple.Andifwemusttalkaboutanythingother than him,theonlyacceptabletopictodiscussis us The us hewisheswewouldbe The us hewoulddeclareifIgavehimevenan inchofleeway.
“Nooffenseintended,”Idrawl “Thisisn’taworkfunction,Davis It’spersonal,sonoplus-oneneeded” “TheEriksonsareanaffluentfamily,”he whines.“I’dhavelikedtoescortyou.” “You’reaffluent,too,”Ipander,annoyingevenmyself “Youneedn’tbe anyone ’ s plusone Iknowyouhavetheconnections youseek,andarolodexotherswouldkillfor.”
“Rolodex,”hesniggers,myegostrokeashinydistractionfromhispetulance.“It’strue.Whatisthisthingtonight,anyway? Yousaidadinner?”
“Yeah.”Ibringmyhandupandscratchmanicurednailsthroughmyhair.“It’ssomepartyfortheirdaughter.She’sengaged, Ithink” For the fourth fifth? time “I’llbewearingagownandheels,andifI’mlucky,I’llescapebeforeten” “Youwanttogettobedearly?” he purrs,a sound he considers sexyandthat I consider nauseating. “Icould come over. Pourusaglassofwinetorelaxafteralongday…”
“I’llbeworkingthemomentI’mabletotossoffmyheels.Ihavesomuchtodo,andnotimetohangout.”
“Yeah,but ”
“I’mabouttogounderground”I’mapoorliar Aweirdliar Andit’sworse,becauseIhaveanaudienceinEdward,who drivesalongthenot-at-all-undergroundManhattanstreetsandchuckles.“I’vegottago,Davis.ButI’lltalktoyoutomorrow.” Hecontinuestochatter Toattempttoconvincemetodedicatemyentirelifetohisboringself,butIpullthephonefrommy earandkillourcall,thendropmyhandandphonetotheseatandexhale.
“Heenjoysyourattention,Ms.Cannon.”
Isqueeze myeyes shutand workthroughthe travel sickness Ihave never conquered inmytwenty-sevenyears ofbeing drivenaround.“Heshouldgetapuppy,”Igrumble.“Unconditionallove.Alwayshappytoseehimcomehome.”
“Thatwouldimplyhe’swillingtotakecareofanotherbeing,insteadofthatbeingtakingcareofhim”
Isnort.“It’snothard.Feedit.Takeitouttopee.Getitvaccinationsonceayear.Besides,”Iopenmyeyesandmeethisin the mirror, “what does he expect of me if we marry? That I’ll quit my job, don an apron, and become his little Suzy Homemaker?”
Edwardsniggersatthethought.“Nooneshouldexpectyoutodothat.Icouldn’tevenimagineit.”
“No!BecauseIlikemyjob Ilikemylife”
“Ilikebeinginyourlife,”headdshappily.“Ilikethatyoulikeyourjob.”
“Ishouldneverhavegonetobedwithhimthatonetime”
Edward’ssmiledropsaway,andthoughhedoesn’tliterally turngreen,Isensehisdisgustintheair.
“Igavehimthatglimmerofhope,”Igroan “Thatchancetothinkwewouldbesomething Andnowhewon’tgoaway” “Itdoesn’thelpthathe’syour boss.”Indicatingaturnandmakingmycar sicknessalittleworse,hebringsusaroundthe corner.“Yourfathermadehimeditor-in-chief,Ms.Cannon.Likeitornot,hecontrolsyourcareer.”
“Hecontrolsnothing”Ishutmyeyesagain ithelps andfocusonourwords Nottheebbandflowoftraffic Thestop and start as cars line up to move forward a few feet. “He’s a seat-filler until I step up,” I clarify. “I’mnot readyfor that positionyet,orwillingtofakeittillImakeit IhavearticlesIwanttowrite AdventuresIwanttogoon Ihaveinterviewsto conductandstoriestoconstruct.Ican’tdothosethingsifIhavehisjob.”
“Youdon’twanttomanagepeople,”hecorrectlyconcludes “Youjustwanttorunyourownrace”
“Right.I’lltakethejobeventually.Butnotyet.NotuntilIachievethethingsIwishto.”
Pointmade,andwithnauseaswirlingclosertothebaseofmythroat,Iclampmylipsshutandwhileawaytheminutesuntil wecometoastopoutsidemyapartment
“Waitforme.”Iopenmydoorbeforehecancuttheengineandclimbouttodoitforme.“I’llbeanhouratthemost.ThenI needaridetotheEriksons’,andapproximatelyninetyminutesafterwearrive,I’llneedyoutogetmeout Fakeaheartattack orsomething.”
Stunned,helooksacrossinquestion,buthisexpressionturnstoasmirkandaninclineofhischin.“Asyouwish.”
SLEEPINGWITHTHEENEMY HOPEFULLY
hristabelleCannonistwenty-sevenyearsold,withaMarchbirthday sameasme andistheheiresstothe Cannon Daily familyfortune We’retalking,like,thirty-sixbillion dollarscomingherwaythemomentoldmanCannoncrapsout Menline up to fuckher. Manymore wishto marryher. All of themwant a taste of the lifestyle beingwithher would provide.Andheresheis,writingstoriesabout my familyandwalkingintoapartyinarich,goldengownthat’ssothin,Ican countherribsandseeexactlywhereherhipbonesjutforward
She’snotemaciatedbyanymeans.Notunderfed.Butshe’strim,andthetoo-thinfabricshewasdupedintobuyingcertainly wouldn’tjustifythepricetagthatcamewithit
Ifanyoneelsewerewearingit,peoplewouldassumethey’dboughtthegarmentofftherackandcouldn’taffordsomething lessflimsy Butbecauseit’stheglamorousChristabelle,it’sobviousthedesignerintendedittolookthisway “Whiskey,Mr.Malone?”
Iturnatthebarandwinkfortheserversettingalowballglassbymyelbow.Snatchingitupandswingingbackaround,I remainintheshadowsofapartyIhavenointerestin,andwatchthedazzlingChristabelleacceptherwarmwelcomesandass kissings.
Noteventhebride-to-beisthestar ofthisevening’sfestivities NoonegivesafuckthatJaneyErikson,thehotel heiress withthreehundredmillionsittinginherbank,isengaged… again.Noonecaresthatshewearsdiamondsasbigasherfist,or thatherred-rocketlipsdropintoapoutwheneveryone watchesadifferentwomanentertheroom BecauseChristabelleCannoniswhereit’sat.
Herlong,almost-blackhairshinesunderthelights,andherlips,thickandfuckableenoughtomakemehardevenfromfifty feetaway,glisten Hereyesaresharplikelasers,thoughtheydon’tseemehere,andherbrainisperhapsevensharper She’s no witless Janey E., that’s for sure.
Oneopensherlegsandmakesafortunesellingvideotapestothemassmarket;theotherisanicequeen Doesn’tletanyonegetcloseenoughtoseetherealher. Doesn’tletanyonebetweenherlegs oratleast,ifshedoes,herconquestsdon’ttalkaboutitafterthefact. Andshedoesn’tletanyonegounscathedbyherjournalisticprowessonceshe’sdecidedshedoesn’tlikethem.
Though,inmydefense,IhavenocluewhatIdidtoupsetLittle-Miss-Newspapers. BringingmyglassupandtakingasipofrichOkinawawhiskey,Ikeepmyeyeslockedonthegoddesswhodoestheweird cheek-kissingshitthoseatsocietypartiesinsistonexchanging. Hello, darling. Suck my clit and beg me to like you. Blah, blah, fuckin blah
Adudeinablacksuitandtailsmakesmusicbehindamassivegrandpiano,andachandeliersomewhatsimilartoanotherI destroyed earlier this year sparkles fromthe thirty-foot ceiling. Glass surrounds us, offeringa dazzlingview of the richest streetsofNewYorkCity.
Butevenwithallofthatgoingon,alleyesremainonChristabelle fuck-my-ass Cannon.
Myphonevibratesinmypocket Theworldoutsidethisroomstillexisting Mybrothers,safelytuckedintheirhomes My life,chuggingalong.
ExceptforthatnastylittledetailofMs CannonrunningastoryonArcher’slife HeandMinkaareoff-limits,inmybook.Don’tfuckingtouch.Andyet,thismorning’sragcamewithapictureof them.A cutesystoryofthehomicidecopmarriedtoamedicalexaminer.
It could’ve been a decent piece, if not for the ‘Is Archer Malone using his badge and powers to turn a city black?’ bullshit.
I mean, maybe he is Maybe he twists things a little and solves a case how he sees fit Perhaps he does favors for his friendsandreportsthingswithaslightMaloneflavor.Butfuck,whateverhedoes,it’sofnoconcerntoaspoiledprincesswith
plumplipsandtoomuchtimeonherhands.He’sontheothersideofthecountry. Onmysideofthecountry,couplesdanceinthemiddleoftheroom.Diamondsglitter,andmusictinkleslikerainonanold tinroof Menapproachthewomaningold,drawntoherthewaymothsaredrawntolight,andofcourseshetakesherpickand offershimherhand.
This is her job,after all Pretendtobelikeable Actandlookandspeakliketheperfectduchess Shehas aroletoplay, becauseifatanypointshedecidestoexitthemerry-go-roundandquitthesocialitelife,allthemoneygoesawaywithit.
Well not all I’msuretheCannonshaveanexcellentaccountantwholongagomovedagoodportionoftheir moneyto keepitsafe.Andthatportionis,undoubtedly,morethanenoughforthem,theirkids,andtheirkids’kidstoliveoffofwithout everfeelingthepinchofpoverty.
Nevertheless,norichman orwoman everstoppedandsaid,‘I think I have enough now ’ Isitatthebarandwatchtheheiressswaywithherchosenpartner,sippingmywhiskeyinsilence.Justenoughtowetmy tongue NotnearlyenoughtocloudmythinkingorgetmeintroublesoIwindupdeadbeforethenightisover I’mnottheonlyonewhowatches.Soldiersminglethroughouttheparty,strappedupenoughtowageawar,butdressedso well,nountrainedguestcouldpickthemoutofthecrowd
Eyeslingeronme.Notonlythoseofmymen,butotherguests,too,apparentlydonestaringatMs.Cannonandherluscious ass.Amongtheattendees,mentrytospymeintheshadows,nodoubtwonderingifthe FelixMalonehasactuallycometonight, whilewomen,eventhehitchedoneswithahusbandontheirarm,lookmeupanddown
I’mthirty-fouryearsold,intheprimeofmylife.Fuckknows,TimothyMalonedestroyedusinbothmindandbody,buthe alsohandeddownDNAthatturnsheadswhenweenteraroom Hepassedonjawlineswomensalivatefor,andshouldersall theladiesswoonover.
I’mnotmodest,nordoIhangallmyvalueonvanity.Butfuckit,IknowIlookgood.
If Ms. Cannon won’t say nice things about me and my family, perhaps she’ll write about my thick cock nestled deep in her throat.
Tippingbacktherestofmywhiskeyandsettingtheglassonthebar,Ipushawayfrommystoolandstarttowardthecenter ofthedancefloor.
Icame here tonightfor one reasononly, and I’mnota manfond ofwastingtime So Istalktoward the dancingcouple, comingupbehindChristabellesoshe’snonethewiser.
Whenherdancingpartnerclocksme,hiseyeswiden,andhishand,previouslysettledonherhip,jumpsawaylikehethinks I’mgoingtobreakit.
“Whatareyou ”Christabellebecomesrigidinhisarms,tiltingherheadtotheside,oblivioustomypresencerightbehind her SowhenItakeherhandfromhisandspinheraround,slamminghertomychestandsettlingherpussytostraddlemythigh, sheblurtsoutasqueakofsurprise.
Thatsurpriseturnstoterrorthemomenthereyeslockontomine Istandoverherbyaneasyeightinchesandweighdoubleatleast.Soit’snowonderherbreathcomestoastop,orthather bodyturnstostone.ButImakeusswayanyway.
“Dancewithme,SweetChristabelle” “Whatareyou ”
“Isaid,”Itightenmyhandaroundhers,andusemyotherhandtosqueezeherhipandforcehertomovewithme “Dance” “F-FelixMalone.” As she stammers,her eyes swingaroundthe roominpanic,like fuck, somebody save me. Thoughno onedares Thepianomancontinuesmassaginghiskeys,andotherguestsmillaround Theywatchus,sure Buttheydon’tstep forwardandsavethelittleladyfromthebigbadwolf.“Idon’tknowwhatyou ”
“Youseemto have a hard-onfor myfamilyrightnow, Ms. Cannon.” Icrushher closer until the oxygenbursts fromher lungs,fillingmineinstead ThenIsmirk,becausehercoreheats Shemighthateme Andshit,maybeshe’sterrifiedenoughto want to runaway. But she’s hot for me, too. She responds well to fear. To confrontation. “You’ve developed aninterest in writinggossipaboutpeopleIcareabout”
“Isitgossip?”Swallowing,shesummonsherbraveryandlooksdownhernoseatme,despiteourheightdisparity.“Orisit fact?Ipridemyselfonaccuratejournalism,Mr Malone”
“Yeah? So thatnonsense aboutmybrother beinga dirtycop?” Idrop myhand to the swell ofher ass, tweakingthe big poofybowaboveitonmyway,andgrinwhenhereyesflickerwith…well,stillhatred.ButI’vehadpeoplehatememywhole life Doesn’tbothermeanymore “ArcherMaloneisagoodcop,Ms Cannon Hefliesstraightasanarrow”
“Doeshe?”Shestiffensherspinewithchallenge.“Areyousure?”
“Yeah YouknowwhatelseI’msureof?”Ireleaseherass,butonlytoyanktheVofherdressforward,pullingthefabric untilthreadssnapandstealingaviewofherperfecttitsandpebblednipples.
Myboldnesselicitsagaspofstunneddisbelief,notonlyfromthewomanherself,butfromeverypersonwithafront-row seattomypoorbehavior.
Despiteouraudience,mymouthsalivates,andmycockthickens,butIreleaseherdress,setmyhandonherassagain,and
grin.
“Whatthe hell was thatfor?” She attempts to fightme, to tugher hand frommine and her bodyfrommypalm. ButI’m strongerthanherbyalongshot,andunlikeeveryoneelseatthisparty,Idon’tfeeltheneedtokissherassandhopeshelikes me.“Youassaultedme!”
“DidI?”Iturnusaroundanddancelikeshe’sactuallyintoit “Youtradeingossip,Ms Cannon Iwasmerelyensuringyou didn’thaveawiretuckedbetweenyourtits.”
“Forwhatreason?”shesnarls “Andwhatmakesyouthinkyougettotouchme?”
“I’mnotnearlyasstraight-and-narrowasmybabybrother.Andyouneedtoknowtheconsequencesofspeakingthenames ofthoseIlove.I’vehurtpeopleforless.Andasfarastouchingyou?”Ikneadherassandgleefullyabsorbthewayshegrowls. “I’ve been touchingyou You’reyettostopme”
“I’llhaveyouarrested.Senttoprisonfortherestofyourlife.”
“Fordancingwithyou?Sweetsummerchild,that’snotillegal”
“No,formurderingpeople!”shebitesback.“Forthecriminalactivityyoupartakein.”
“Idon’tkillpeople,silly”Ibringourjoinedhandsupand boop theendofhernosewiththetipofmyfinger “Butyou’re makingnoiseaboutmyfamily,Ms.Cannon.That’sgottenlesserwomenintotroubleovertheyears.”
“Yousayyoudon’tkillpeople,butyoujustthreatenedme!Everyone knowswhatyouare,Felix.”
“Yes,but ”Ireleaseherassandtwirlherawaytoshowherofftoeveryonewatching,thenItugherinagainandtuckher closetomychest,“knowingandprovingaretwodifferentthings.Toavoidthelatter,itwouldbeshrewdofyoutoreconsider whoyou’llwriteabouttomorrow”
Igrabher jaw andpull her totheverytipsofher toes.Her breathburstsoutinterror,andher eyeswideninfear.“First articlewascute.Secondwasannoying.Athirdwon’tbetolerated.”
“Whowasyourmother?”
Startlingback, mybodyjolts fromher blow as thoughshe used a physical weapon. She could have stabbed me, and I wouldn’tbeassurprisedasIamrightnow Shecouldhavepulledoutafuckingshotgun,andmyheartwouldn’tthunderquite likeitdoesinthismoment.“What?”
“Everyone knows Old ManMalone fucked women,impregnated them, thenkilled themafter the babywas born So who wasyourmother?Whereisshenow?”
Ireleaseherfaceandtakeastepback myfirstretreatinmanyyears.PerhapssincethedayCatowasbornandSavannah wastakenfromme.
“Whatwashername?”Bravenow,ChristabellepushesforwardandfillsthespaceIleft.“Whodidshebelongto?” Idropmyhandsintomypockets,fingeringtheswitchbladeinmyleft,andwonderwhatitwouldfeelliketospillbloodon thatgoldengown.
“Whoburiedher? Where wassheburied?Doyouvisithergrave?Doyoupayyourrespectstothewomanwhogaveher lifeforyours?”
“Ms. Cannon?” Carl Erikson, the hostofthis partyand the onlymanbrave enoughto step forward wheneveryone else movesback,grabsChristabelle’sarmandgentlypullsheraway “It’stimeforspeeches,Ithink MysweetJaneyisready”
Pissed,Christabelle’sdaringeyescomebacktomineandpinmewhereIstand.“You’renotscary,Mr.Malone.You’rejust aman Amortal You’reabullywhowashandedbiggunsandanevenbiggerego Butthat’sallyouhave”Herlipscurlintoa dangeroussneer.“Perhapsyou’lldietoo,justasyourmotherdidallthoseyearsago.”
“Ms Cannon!”Eriksonpullsherback,moreforcefullythistime
He’sanantelope,stuckbetweentwolions.Oneistheglitterati,abletomakeorbreakafamily’ssocialreputationwitha singlepennedpiece.Theother,agangsterwillingandabletoendlivesforeveryoneheholdsdear.
Beingmeis notaboutbeingabully,likeChristabellethinks It’s aboutrunningabusiness Andtodothatmeans keeping everyoneinline.
Therecanbenoprogresswithoutorganization
“Please,”Eriksonbegs,desperateinthewayhepullsonherarm,“wouldyouescortmetothediningroom?”
“Keepmybrothers’namesoutofyourmouth,Christabelle”Itakeastepcloser,twosteps,andstoponlywhenourchests touchandhersweetperfumefillsmylungs.“It’sbestyouheedmyadvice.”
“AndifIdon’t?”ShejerksherarmfreefromourhostandstaresupatmewitheyesIswearholdfear.Pride,too.Passion. Emotion “Whatwillyoudoaboutit?”
“Ms.Cannon?”Anotherman,older,morefatherlythanErikson,stepsintotheroomandcrossestothedancefloor,takinga hatfromthetopofhishead “I’msorrytointerruptyourevening,buttherehasbeenafamilyemergency Wemustgo” “Edward…” She swallows whatever else she might’ve liked to say, but holds mystare. Her glorious, silver-eyed gaze demandingIanswerherquestions or else.
Tensionsintheroomrunthick,andthesilenceofthosearoundusisglaringenoughtomakemerealizethateventhepiano manhasstoppedplaying.
