Marco got me set up with paying Romeao a few days later and got me the apartment key and the keycard for the building. I paid first and last month’s rent, gave my notice on my current apartment and started moving boxes, with help from dad, Sasha and his partner, who only agreed because Sasha had. Having moved the last boxes the night before and my cat, I only had two days to really unpack things and get settled in the best I could before I had to head to work.
Marco had offered to lend a hand with the moving, but I suggested that he not try that. Mostly because of my dad. Marco was supposed to be coming later on today with a housewarming gift and lunch. The apartment was quiet right now in the daytime because all the henchmen were sleeping. Tonight, that was going to be the big tell all. When they were working and awake.
Moving a box of my clothing out of the way, I shoved a few boxes of crap I didn’t want to unpack right now into the closet. Mochi mewed from the bed and looked at him.
“If you had thumbs, I would make you help too, you old man.”
Mochi was seven, but actually acted like he was seventy. His white, sleek coat was soft and silky. He hadn’t moved from the bed since I had got up, and honestly, if I didn’t have the deadline of unpacking, I also would still be in bed.
Opening the box of my clothing, I stuffed it in the drawers of my dresser and hung up what needed to be. Looking at Mochi, I groaned.
“I dislike the Mafia, Mochi. I hate how much dad is in the pocket of Maddox, and his alliances. But, some of them… I guess they aren’t all terrible people, you know? Haha, of course you don’t, you’re a cat. I guess what I mean is, Sasha, and his partner, and a handful of others, aren’t bad. Just in a bad job field.”
Mochi just meowed at me, and I felt for a moment like he at the very least understood me. Moving so that I could pet him, I continued rattling on.
“And him, who I don’t want to speak about. I want to hate him and everything about him. But he’s the one who’s been the most helpful. Hell, without him, we wouldn’t have this apartment right now. Again, you don’t understand because you’re a cat.”
Checking my watch, I groaned. I needed to eat something small and get a cup of coffee before I could get the kitchen together more. So we had dishes and a table to have lunch at. Pants would also be another good idea. I had way too much skin showing to be comfortable when Marco actually showed up. While unpacking my things, I was trying to be as quiet as possible. I would feel terrible if I woke up the neighbours, knowing pretty much all of them worked nights. It made me wonder about Marco, though. Did he work all night long and look after Wren in the daytime?
I would cry.
Mochi followed me to the kitchen, singing the song of his people. I figured he was looking for wet cat food, not the dry kibble that I had put down for him late last night.
“Relax, Mochi. I will get you some fancy food.”
He sang while I hunted for the ceramic bowl and cans of food. I labelled them with that exact detail so that I could locate it later quickly. Finding the goods, I cracked the can and dumped it into the bowl, setting it down on the floor out of the way.
The coffee maker was the first thing that I had unpacked last night, placing a single black mug beside it, for this morning. Locating a pod, that was the nightmare. I hunted through boxes and bags, tearing everything apart until I found a pod. It wasn’t a good one, but it was one, and that was all I cared about.
I tucked things into cupboards where they belonged and found a box of crackers. Those would be perfect for a breakfast snack. Grabbing my coffee, I added a touch of cream and sugar, leaning against the counter and looking at the mess I created.
Taking a sip, I set it down on the countertop and dug into the large box on the table. Pulling out pots and pans, I started stuffing them in the cupboard across the room from the oven. Opening the oven drawer, I shoved all the cookie sheets and oven trays down there. Inside the oven, I stuffed two seasoned cast-iron pans. Snagging a few crackers from the box and taking a sip of coffee, I streamed music on my phone and danced around the kitchen while I put things away. I didn’t even notice how much time had passed until my phone rang, cutting off the music I was dancing to.
Answering the phone, I put it on speaker so that I could finish the kitchen.
“Hey, afternoon. What’s up?”
“I’m here, actually. I’m outside your door. I would have knocked, but my hands are full.” Marco said, his voice stressing that I should hurry.
“Hold on, I’m coming to let you in.”
Checking to make sure Mochi wasn’t around, I went and opened the door. I took the baby bag and Wren in his car seat off Marco’s left arm. Setting the bag on the living room table, I turned and caught Marco looking at my legs.
“Sorry, I lost track of time. I’m just going to grab some pants and I’ll be back.”
“Alright. Take your time.”
Shaking off the feeling of his eyes on me, I pulled jeans on and headed to the kitchen. Marco had taken off his coat and placed it on the back of a chair, and he was holding his ribs. Dropping his hand when he saw me. He set the bags of food on the kitchen table.
“You got a lot done.”
“Yes. I’ve been pretty busy. What about you?”
“Business as usual.” He hummed.
“Sore ribs are regular business?” I questioned him.
“Sometimes, call it a workplace hazard.” He laughed, but looked pained doing so.
“Want to let me have a look at those? I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen broken ribs before and—--”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Ambrose, But I don’t want to particularly—-”
“Eh, too bad. Lift your shirt and let me look.” I said, ready to bring up how he choked me if he refused to do so.
He frowned, but slowly lifted his t-shirt. His ribs were an ugly purple and blue colour. His ribs looked pretty beat up.
“Yikes. I’d hate to see the other guy.” I muttered.
“Gang members.” Marco said flatly. Hissing when I placed my hands on his ribs.
“We have a bunch of gang members recently. Maddox had been shoving them out of his territory left, right and centre.”
“We have as well. They are like cockroaches. Kill one and more return.”
“I see. I think you should have these looked at. They might be broken.”
“That matters little. I don’t have the pleasure of taking time off to nurse broken ribs.”
“Time or not, you should take it easy and—---”
Marco turned, and my fingertips trailed over his peck and I retracted my fingers, pausing only long enough to take in his figure. He was fit.
“What no abs?” I teased him.
“No, I don’t fancy starving to achieve them.” He said, pulling down his shirt.
“Hey, wait. I’m going to tape those, at the very least.”
“I really don’t need you to.” He sighed and grabbed his side again.
“That, right there, tells me what your mouth doesn’t, Marco.” I said, crossing my arms at him.
He didn’t respond to my comment, instead he went and picked up Wren out of the car seat.
“How old is he?” I asked, wondering since he was little, but not under six months, but I could be wrong, too. I wasn’t an expert on babies.
“Eight months. Why do you ask?” Marco said, clearly bringing his guard up against me.
“I was just wondering. I thought he was over six months old, but I really wasn’t sure.”
“Yes. He is just eight months old this week.”
“I see. Anyway, you really should let me tape your ribs up. I know how to do that.”
“Ambrose, For the last time. I will pass. Please stop pushing it.” There was an edge of annoyance in his voice, and I found it amusing, even though I shouldn’t have.
“If I do, what will you do?” I said, more out of curiosity.
“That eager to find out what it’s like when I’m mad.” He said flatly, realizing what I was up to.
“Eh, perhaps. Sometimes I like to push my luck.” I chuckled before walking up and taking Wren from his arms.
“Excuse you?” He said, shocked that I had robbed him.
“I wanted to see him. You see him all the time. I don’t get to see little babies all the time. Besides, his weight can’t feel good on your ribs.”
Wren was wiggly in my arms today, a far cry from the last time I held him. But he was also giggly.
“Did you feed him sugar this morning, heavens? He is so wiggly.”
“Romeao calls him worm.” Marco sighed.
I snorted. Wren, Worm, close enough.
“Do you intend to teach him Italian?” I asked without thinking.
“Yes. He is Italian, through and through. If I don’t, I am robbing him.”
“Oh. Sticking heavily to the Italian blood, huh?”
“I want him to have the chance to be a made man in this family, if that’s what he chooses. Romeao isn’t like Maddox. Prominent positions are only given to those of Italian blood.”
“Oh.”
Looking at Wren as he wiggled in my arms, I spoke without thinking about it.
“I hope you give him the chance to make the choice if a life of crime and violence is what he wants.” Realising what I said, I was quick to apologize. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. He’s your child.”
“You’re fine. I will never make that choice for him, but I will teach him to be safe, given what I do for my job. I will protect that boy until my very last breath. Have no fear in that, Ambrose.”
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