“Yeah, look, I’m just going to say this in the simplest possible way. A few years ago, we received information that Lou was responsible for our father’s death. At first we didn’t believe it because he’s practically family. Well the more info we received, the more evidence was built against him. That’s when I met your brother. He was privately working on the Sorrento’s file for years, trying to take them down. His sergeant wanted him to stop working on the case, but he grew addicted … See the Sorrentos are very careful; they watch how they spend their money … who they do business with. But Lou only trusts two people: Marcus and me. He’d never think we’d turn on him. So we began to work with your brother. It grew irritating at first. We gave him a great deal of evidence, but he said it wasn’t enough to take Lou down. It was just enough to take some of the Sorrentos down. He said that for this kind of case you needed years of evidence and piles of documents, so the feds could step in and take over. Anyways, we grew impatient, and your brother grew sloppy. That’s when Lou started looking more into your brother. When he found out he worked as a Boston detective, he took him out and told us we had to be careful whom we talked to because the entire time we were “clueless” about him. I’m truly sorry about your brother, Mia.
“We didn’t know Lou was going to do it; he took it upon himself. If we had any indication, we would’ve warned Michael … Trust me, we would have.”
Blankly staring at him, I managed to speak, “So you tried to set Lou up?” He nodded. “And what happens now?”
Looking down, he lightly shrugged. “We’re working on that.” Meeting my gaze again, he pressed his lips together and creased his eyebrows.
“What do you want me to do, Jimmie?” I asked. There was a reason he was telling me this: a reason why everything made so much sense now even though there were still so many black holes that needed to be filled.
“Talk to Marcus. When he’s with you, everything is better in his world … now he’s lost.”
Nodding, I stared at his face again. “Okay.” I let out a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”
Jimmie walked over and wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. “Thank you so much, Mia. Everything is going to be okay … trust me.” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or me.
We ended our hug and made our way towards the door. We stopped when the door handle jiggled and the door swung wide open. My heart sank when I saw him. Marcus was in black pants and a white button-down shirt with his latest accessory, a bleach-blond, overly-tanned chick with her arms wrapped snuggly around his neck. He leaned her into the inner doorway as they sloppily made out. I wanted to throw up. I studied them in disgust. He seemed to be getting by just fine to me! I snapped my head at Jimmie, and he closed his eyes and mumbled, “Fuck.”
I heard the female giggle, and I turned back to them. Marcus turned his head, and his grin widened when he saw Jimmie. “Hey, Bro …” Then his head moved, and he spotted me. Extending his neck, he blinked a few times. When he realized it was me, his mouth dropped open. Trying to swallow, he pulled away from the girl; leaning his hand against the door, he tried to keep himself balanced. He was completely trashed.
After a few seconds, he adjusted his flickering eyes. “Mia? You look beautiful.” The last word was a slur; I barely made it out.
My eyes flashed from him to the girl he’d just sucked face with. Her orange complexion, fake blue eyes, and her bleach-blond hair, which I was sure was also fake, stared back at me. She tilted her head to study the woman he just complimented. Her size D boobs with any slight movement would pop from her extremely tight and short pink minidress. Her overly plump lips covered in pink lip gloss, which were far too light for her orange complexion, smacked together as she chewed on gum.
Reaching for her hair, she curled a piece of extension with a finger. “She’s cute, is she going to join us, Marky?” Her bubbly high-pitched Boston accent brought my anger level from a five to an easy twelve within two-point-five seconds. What made it worse was the name she called him. Hearing the nickname his family used on her lips placed a fireball in the pit of my stomach.
Oh I was beyond pissed. Snapping my head back in his direction, I crossed my arms. “Really!”
It took him a moment to process what was going on. He stared at me forever before he looked back at her and laughed. He laughed! “Oh no sweetie, she’s not joining us. I think you should go, though,” he said to her.
“But I thought we were having fun, Marky.” She pouted.
Arrrgh! Throwing my hands in the air, I yelled, “Oh, by all means, don’t let me spoil your fun!” I stormed between the two of them and headed down the hall.
“Mia! Mia! Come here.” I looked over my shoulder as I continued to quickly walk down the hallway. He was stumbling side-to-side trying to run after me. Ugh, he was pathetic.
“There you are, are you okay?” Megan gripped my arm and studied my angry appearance. Looking behind me, her eyes grew. “Oooh. Who is that fine piece of ass?”
Rolling my eyes, I snapped. “Let’s go!”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you know him?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I looked in the direction of her goggling eyes. Great, now all three are behind me: Jimmie, Marcus, and the plastic chick. “No, he’s just someone I used to know.” I growled.
“Oh come on, Mia!” Marcus wiggled his brows. “You know, you know me a little better than that.” Biting his lip, he flexed his hips, swinging his arms in and out. He was air humping! After a few pumps, he stopped, laughed, and pathetically tried to straighten his posture.
“You’re a dick!” I can’t stand him!
Laughing, he moved in closer to me, reaching for my arm. “Come on, baby. Let me show what you’ve been missing.”
Yeah, that did it. I think I was beyond my boiling point. In my best impersonation, I mimicked his beach-blonde’s Boston’s accent. “Oh why would you want me, Marky, when you can have Boston Barbie!”
Plastic chick didn’t dig my comment. Cocking her head to the side, she put her hands angrily on her hips. “Are you, like … offending me or something?”
Laughing once at her stupidity, I thought about whether I should even answer her. “No, not at all, it’s, like, a compliment to be called Boston Barbie or something.” I spit sarcastically.