*spotting up as:
*
wow, what a night...
getting up quietly from her bed. i dress enough to get out quickly enough not to disturb mia from her sleep. one last sneak of her naked body before i cover it with the sheets. careful to not make her stir in her sleep. i ghost out of carnegie hall apartments and rush off to meet ben at work.
on the way there, i sneak a look at the day's
times over the shoulder of an old woman sitting next to me...
hmph.
so morgan is dead? but who? i know it wasn't me. leaning back in my seat, lost in thought. not even noticing a young med student dripping some scalding coffee on nape of the ankle area of my pants. the newspaper article seemed to recount the story well enough to suggest it was definitely a pro job. even if the tapes were being transfered into police custody, i highly doubt they'd find anything substantial.
usually agrandized obituaries don't really concern me. i usually just go for the
boondocks strip in the comics section, if not the sports to check on the day's parylays to lay some fat bets on. but this one bothers me because i actually went on the collection on my own initiative as a farvor for "dad"- i'd figure don diego would appreciate a demonstration of what my "know-how." but i was beat to the punch.
which isn't necessarily bad. but, of course, which isn't necessarily good, neither. could be that someone is tailing me. 99.999999971% sure that is highly improbable. but it just feels like for some reason.
thinking nothing of it, i quickly remember to take out my cellphone. i turn it on, in case ben or the boss have already called to leave me a message based on the day's news. i do find a message. but it's from kitty. and what her recorded voice whispers in my ear makes my hand weak. and i drop the phone. i blink off into space. it's not till the old lady picks it up for me that i realize i've dropped it. she smiles and pats my lap. asks if "she's pregnant?" i give her a sideways glance and try to laugh. i tell her it's much worse and leave it at that.
so kitty offed my mark. i didn't ask her to. i just told her what i was up to the last time we were in the same bed. the same bed where she had me strapped and cuffed to the bed posts. again. the same bed where she maliciously dripped wax from that candle on both my nipples. again.
but it's not the sex that bothers me. i don't feel i owe her nor mia any kind of commitment. it is what it is- a night of animal aggression. what gets me is how kitty got me to put my guard down so quickly. to let her turn me into a sucker so that i would find myself in such defenseless positions. after all, i'm pretty sure that's how she put a slug into that fat banker's skull. that same opportunity to do the same to me. so why didn't she? and how the hell did she even know i was in new york city to begin with anyway?
i burry my head into my hands. not sure what to think or trust. all i know is that mark was an assignment from me from the new york don, but he never gave me the green light lay down the hammer. i'm pretty sure he's gonna want to see me. and not the "dad's gonna lecture me to death" sort, but "dad's going to erase me if he doesn't believe me" kind.
i coud always run.
but to where? new york is barren. don diego would find me like he was looking for white on rice. chi-city? by now there's a picture of my mug faxed to every major county in the state of illinois. way too much heat to try and stake it out back home. besides, if don cicciro finds out i came back without his blessing to do so, he's liable to do worse than don diego to me. at least dad would make it quick. cicciro is an entirely different brand of "whack" job.
shit....
