Miles Away (Carrion #1)(13)
“Oh, yeah… yeah… I’ll catch up with you later. What’s your cell number? I’ll call you,” Ruin said, clearly forgetting that Miles just got out of the clink.
“Yeah, I’ll get back at ya when I get that far,” Miles replied.
“Oh, right. All right, man… see ya…” Ruin said as he backed away with Rumor’s hand in his.
Miles didn’t expel another ounce of energy upholding the conversation as Rita placed his deep dish of putanesca in front of him. The scent brought him back to 1998. It was as if he hadn’t just spent half his life in a cell. It was like Miles was seventeen again. Twirling his fork around the angel hair pasta, Miles dug into the best meal of his life.
“Dude, you should reserve those noises for the sack,” Landon said with a laugh as he watched Miles eat.
Flipping Landon the bird, Miles continued to savor his meal, not giving a flying f*ck what anybody thought of him, his beard, or the sounds he made while eating the best meal of his twisted life.
After he was finished eating, Miles flagged down Rita and asked for the check. In typical Rita fashion, she was back in 2.5 seconds. Miles paid the bill in cash and left an eighteen percent tip.
Because I’m classy like that, Miles thought.
Miles told the kid to quit making goo-goo eyes at the blonde at the next table, and wrap it up.
I have things to see and a woman to do. Maybe I said that wrong? Nope. I crack myself up.
CHAPTER THREE
“C’MON, ANTE UP!” Michael Capadonno spat as he picked his cards up off the table.
Sitting in a hospital bed, Michael Capadonno looked weak as he spoke to the men that sat around his bed. They pretended not to notice as they dropped their bets on his lap and surveyed their hands.
Anthony Schiabetta sat by Michael’s side trying to give him pointers on his hand, while five other men held up their own cards. Eddie “The Landlord” Torrento sat at the foot of Michael’s bed with an annoyed look permeating from his beady eyes. Beside him sat “Big Bang” Benny Mancini, whose reputation was as large as his gut was round. Next to him, sat Salvatore “Six” DiBlase, the six standing for the number of ex-wives he had. They’ll probably be calling him Seven soon enough. On Michael’s right-hand side sat Luke “The Face” Demograzzi, who had earned his nickname after no less than four rounds of plastic surgery.
“So whaddya think is gonna happen with your boy gettin’ out of the can, today?” “Big Bang” Benny Mancini asked as he eyed up his cards.
Michael’s right eyebrow raised as he considered the question. Glaring down at the cards in his hands, he didn’t respond.
“Cat got yer tongue?” Big Bang asked Michael when he didn’t get an answer.
Michael glared at his associate from over his cards.
“Yo, Mike, that’s a good question. I’d like to know the answa’ too…” Eddie “The Landlord” Torrento said as a cigar hung off of his lip.
Salvatore “Six” DiBlase rolled his eyes. “Quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. It’s just one more * to clock.”
“Who says we’re watchin’ ’em?” Anthony Schiabetta asked darkly as he brought his glass to his mouth. Sipping down the amber-colored drink, Six wore an unreadable expression.
“Seriously, Mike… Are ya gonna answer my f*ckin’ question or just ignore me?” Big Bang asked testily.
Michael Capadonno cast a lethal glare at Benny as he laid his cards down.
“Royal flush, suckers… Pay up,” Michael said with a sly smirk.
“Motha’….” Six griped as he slapped down his cards on the table.
“Madonn’!” Big Bang complained as he snapped down a one-hundred-dollar bill onto Michael’s lap.
“So seriously, boss… Whaddya want us to do about Miles?” Six asked.
Michael sat silent for a moment. Staring at each of his men, he replied, “That, gentlemen, remains to be seen.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“WHAT NOW?” LANDON ASKED Miles as Corina revved up I-95 North. The sun was setting over the Philadelphia skyline, reflecting brightly off of the skyscrapers in the distance.
“Delilah’s… Cheerleaders… Club Risque?” Landon asked as he rattled off the names of some of Philly’s notorious strip clubs.
“How about none of the above?” Miles suggested, keeping his eyes drilled to the road. A red Chevy swerved in front of Corina. “Fucking douchebag! You don’t cut off a beauty like Corina!”
Sticking his head out the window, Miles screamed, “Good way to see angels, jackass!”
“C’mon, man…” Landon whined. “It’ll be fun…”
Rolling his eyes, Miles replied, “What part about blue balls is fun? No thanks, dude.”
“You just haven’t been to the right one… It’ll be fun,” Landon insisted.
“Yeah, I’m good, dude. A real man don’t need to pay a woman to shake her tits for him. And fun? Seriously? Empty wallet and an emergency case of the blue balls. And the girls… they bring in the most coked out, strung out, skin and bones bitches they can find. That shit is not sexy.”