Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
When I’m off-duty, I find Big Dan and wait until he’s done chatting with Zach before I approach. “I think you know what’s going on between me and Adler,” I say without preamble.
He looks surprised. Big Dan’s used to meek little Casey Kiernan, but today I’m being Casey Costa, wife of a notorious gangster, and it’s giving me a little confidence.
“I’ve heard some things.”
“They’re true,” I confirm. His eyes widen. “Actually, it’s worse. I married Adler this morning. No ring yet, but it’s coming.”
He laughs awkwardly, clearly not sure if I’m joking, but the laughter fades when he sees that I’m not smiling. “You’re fucking serious.”
“Yes, I’m fucking serious, and I’m telling you first before anyone else finds out because I want you to know that nothing will change. You’re still my manager. I still answer to you.”
“If you’re really Costa’s wife, then you answer to nobody.”
“Dan, listen to me, I want nothing more in this world than to keep on working like I always have. You give me the benefit of the doubt and I won’t screw you on it. Can we make that deal?”
He seems skeptical, but slowly nods. “All right, Casey. You’ve been a good employee all these years. Never had a problem with you. If that’s what you want, that’s how we’ll play it, but don’t fuck me on that.”
“So long as you don’t fuck me either.” I grin at him. “Adler wouldn’t like it.”
He bursts out laughing.
I’m exhausted when I head up to the apartment. Riding the magic elevator lost most of its shine. At least the place is empty and I’m able to call down to room service for something to eat. I know exactly what I want: crab risotto, a diet Coke, and French fries.
The food arrives ten minutes later and I treat myself to a feast.
Except the apartment is quiet.
Empty and too silent.
I’m used to my tiny house back in Pomona with my loud father, my obnoxious brother, and my mother, a woman with more lung power than Pavarotti. There were nights when I would’ve given a hand to have a beautiful apartment all to myself like this, but now it feels strange and foreign, like I’m an invader and it’s waiting to eject me.
I call home, unable to bear it for long, and I’m surprised when my mother answers.
“Mom? I thought you’d be at work.”
“Lou said I could take off early and for once in my life I took him up on it. So here I am, at home. But where are you?”
“I’m, uh—” How do I explain this to her? “Did you talk to Dad?”
“He mentioned a bunch of guys showed up and carted all your crap away. Did you finally move out?”
“Something like that.”
There’s a short silence. “That’s great, honey.”
“Really?” I sit up straight, honestly shocked. “Seriously?”
“Yes, really, it’s great. You’re gonna make me say it again? God, Casey, just like you.”
“No, I mean, sorry, Mom. I just thought you’d, you know, want me to stay.”
“If you think it’ll be easy dealing with your fucking father without your help, think again, because it fucking won’t be. Only it’s probably good for you, you know, for you to move on.”
I look down at my mostly empty plate. “I moved on. It’s just been hard.”
“Casey,” Mom says, voice softer than I’ve ever heard. “You’ve been stuck ever since that accident. Don’t try to tell me different. I know life is harder for you now since you can’t walk that good and whatever, but you make plenty of money at the casino. You could’ve gotten your own place ages ago.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But I had no clue she thought any of this. “But what about you guys?”
“Ah, we’ll be fine. Your father will have to get off his lazy fucking ass from time to time and make his own goddamn dinner—” She’s yelling that last part at him. “—but we’ll be fine otherwise.”
“Mom,” I say, fighting back sudden tears. All my life, my mother’s been hard on me. When the accident happened, she was the first one encouraging me to get my lazy ass out of bed and start walking again. She pushes, always has, and doesn’t give an inch.
So hearing her talk like this nearly kills me.
“What’s the matter?” she snaps. “You sound emotional. Don’t tell me you’re getting emotional.”
“No, I’m not,” I say, wiping my eyes, because I totally am. “I’m just trying to tell you something.”
“Oh, god, you didn’t move out for a good reason. You fucked up, didn’t you? Are you pregnant? Tell me you’re pregnant. Are there drugs involved? You’re not pregnant and doing drugs? Because that’s how you fuck up your baby—”
“No, Mom, I got married.”
She’s quiet. My tears are all gone now—this is more like the mother I’ve always known. “How?” she asks. “When? And to who?”