Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
There was nothing wrong with that.
It’s just who Joe is.
“Well, are you going to answer me, then?” Damian asked. “When was the last time you talked to your brother?”
“Last night.”
“Was he out of his—”
“On the phone,” Cory interjected. “He’s fine. Let him be alone if that’s what he wants to be, okay. He likes the quiet.”
“Cory, all he would do is be alone if we let him do that. That’s a lonely way to be.”
“He’s not lonely, though,” Cory countered. “You just worry that he is.”
“So be it. Point remains the same. I want you to go check on your brother, and get him out of his goddamn house. I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen, that’s on you to figure out. Understood?”
Cory sighed. “Joe isn’t going to like this.”
“I didn’t ask if he would like it. He doesn’t like a lot of things—you know, going out in public, making friends ... talking on a regular basis—but he always comes out better for it when I force him out of his comfort zone.”
“Except you want me to do that this time.”
His father chuckled. “Yes, well ... he does like you.”
Cory scowled at his reflection. “If by like you mean we often bust each other’s mouths open, then all right.”
He did love his brother, though.
Until the very fucking end.
“That’s just how you two show your love,” Damian said. “Now, update me when you get him out, and make him do something.”
“Fine, whatever.”
Cory hung up the phone on his father.
He had things to do now, anyway.
*
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or what?” Joe grumbled from the passenger seat. “And Jesus Christ, slow down before we get pulled over.”
“I drive just fine, thanks.”
“Yeah, if you’re driving on a closed course.”
“Should have left your ass in bed,” Cory snapped back.
His brother nodded. “I would have appreciated that.”
“I bet.”
Joe sighed heavily, and stared out the window. Cory chanced a glance at his brother, but found, as usual, Joe’s face was passive, and unreadable. It was only his irritated tone and constantly questioning that let Cory know his brother wasn’t happy about being dragged out of bed to do ... well, he hadn’t told Joe what they were doing.
That might ruin the surprise.
“What would you have done today had I not come over?” Cory asked.
Joe didn’t even look away from the window. “Research, likely.”
“For what?”
“Have a job coming up down in Mexico for Tommas.”
Cory nodded. “So, nothing, then?”
“Not nothing. Work.”
“You work all the time.”
Joe shrugged. “I like work.”
“Is that why you spend just as much time in a confessional as you do taking hit jobs from Tommas because you like it?”
His brother finally turned away from the window, then, and gave Cory a look that could have burned a hole straight through his head. “One thing doesn’t automatically have to mean something else just because you think you can correlate the others.”
“So, you’re saying that you don’t go to confession every time you kill somebody?”
“No, I do. And your assumptions about it are just that—assumptions. Mind your own business.”
“And here we are,” Cory said, ignoring his brother’s statement altogether as he pulled the sedan to a smooth stop on the side of the quiet city street. “Get out, and let’s have a chat.”
Joe glanced to the side to take in the street, and where they had stopped. “You realize there’s a For Sale sign in the window of that restaurant, right? It’s closed down, Cory. We can’t have breakfast here, or—”
“Get out.”
Joe cursed under his breath, but Cory was already out of the car, and slamming the door behind him. He rounded the car just as Joe climbed out of his side, and met his brother by leaning against the back passenger door. He gestured at the run-down restaurant.
“So, what do you think, man?”
Joe arched a brow, and then glanced back at his brother. “That you need a new GPS, or ... something.”
Cory reached out and punched his brother hard in the arm. Joe scowled, and looked about like he might hit Cory back, but decided not to at the last second.
“I mean, I was thinking of buying this place, and doing something with it.”
Joe’s attention went back to the restaurant. “It looks like its going to fall in on itself.”
“Yeah, it needs some work.”
“Some?” Joe scoffed. “A lot.”
“Be nice.”
Joe sighed. “I mean ... do you really want to do something with it?”
“Yeah, maybe a pizza joint, or something.”
“Then, go for it.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing, though,” Cory said, finally getting to the bit that was really going to make his father happy. “I don’t want to take out a loan for it, and you know I only get to remove so much from my trust fund until I turn twenty, so ...”
That was his parents’ way of trying to keep his wild, recklessness controlled.