Twelve-year-old Tino was angry at Nova.
Adult Tino hurt for his brother, even if the anger had been easier. Now he just ached for all the hours Nova worked. For the demons that tormented him and forced him to jerk awake from nightmares he always denied the next day.
Tino didn’t have nightmares.
He wasn’t haunted like Nova.
Broken—abso-fucking-lutely—but not haunted.
Guilt, Tino supposed, was more poisonous than pain and humiliation.
So if all those fucking books said Tino was supposed to talk about it on the slim hope of healing, he was willing to try it.
Not with Nova.
Certainly not with Carina.
He thought of talking to Mei, but that was kind of like the blind leading the blind. Even if she was in school now, studying for some psych degree, and went to all those support groups. She was probably the one nagging at Nova about all this talking shit.
The two of them were tight now.
Nova was tight with a lot of Lost Girls and Boys.
Always trying to fix their problems. He even had a fucking study group on Friday nights. Romeo thought he was out partying; instead he was coaching Lost Kids and setting up mutual funds. Mei helped him, and together they tried to save the world one broken sex slave at a time.
And screw Mei and her stupid psychology shit she was always spewing at Tino, because he was starting to realize Nova spent all his spare time hosting GED study groups to make up for the fact that the one person he wanted to help, he couldn’t.
So this idea started to form while he and Carlo were out.
It was an easy job.
No dead bodies.
No chemicals.
Only a trip to Jersey to “discuss” some financing issues with a casino executive. There was hardly any blood. Tino didn’t even bother with blow, and he noticed Carlo didn’t either.
They were both introspective as they drove back to the hideout in Cream Ridge, New Jersey, where they’d ditched their Ducati motorcycles for the Lexus. They usually did that, dumped the bikes for a car or a car for the bikes. Sometimes they did it three or four times if the feds were putting the squeeze on things, changing cars and bikes in underground garages and hideouts. The government was everywhere, and it made them paranoid as hell. They went through hideouts like water, which was a pain when no one, not even Nova, was supposed to know where they were.
“What if I needed an extra day?” Tino looked at Carlo, who was sitting in the passenger seat while Tino drove. “Would you cover for me?”
“Yeah, sure, man. What’d you need an extra day for?”
Tino’s knee-jerk reaction was to lie.
That was what he always did.
About everything.
But considering what he was trying to work on, he kept his eyes on the road and admitted, “Nova’s on this kick that I should talk about everything that happened with Mary.”
Tino spoke Italian, and he wasn’t sure why.
“Nova’s probably right.” Carlo nodded. “He’s right about most things.”
Carlo followed Tino’s lead by using Italian too. That quick, zip Italian Carlo spoke that had become comforting to Tino over time. Dependable. Like one of the few things that wouldn’t hurt him, and it made Tino realize he spoke Italian to hear Carlo speak it because he was one of the only people who hadn’t damaged him in one way or another.
Tino ran a hand over the steering wheel thoughtfully for one long moment before he glanced back to Carlo. “Does Lola talk to you?
“She doesn’t tell me anything about you,” Carlo started defensively. “She’s not telling me your shit.”
“No, that’s not—” Tino rubbed at the back of his neck, wishing now he’d done blow before they got to Atlantic City. “I was just wondering…can you heal her? By talking to her? Does that work? That’s stupid, right? It doesn’t really help.”
“I don’t know, Tino.” Carlo sighed, like it was something that haunted him too. “Some days I think I’ve made it better. Some days not so much. I want to heal her by killing her fucking father. I want kill everyone who ever hurt her. That’s how I want to do it. She probably doesn’t talk to me like you think she does. I’m a man. She can’t fucking trust me to keep my cool. We’re all Neanderthals, and Lola’s smart. She knows that. She knows it better than anyone.” He looked back to Tino curiously. “Why? Who do you want to talk to?”
“I was thinking of talking to Bri.” Tino shifted uncomfortably after he said it. “Or maybe I just want her to catch a fucking clue. Maybe I want to scare her away before it’s too late. I don’t know why I want to do it, but I feel like I need a day. One day with no work. No brothers breathing down my neck. I want to disappear.”
“Ehi, I could take a day. Run away with my girl and hide from the world. Sounds good to me. They don’t need to know Atlantic City took twenty minutes.” Carlo held up his hands. “Where the fuck is our vacation package? Enforcer job benefits suck.”
Tino laughed. “We should form a union.”