Nova couldn’t be fucked with a jacket.
Tino saw her on the platform before Nova did, maybe because Tino had a tendency to look for them. Long blonde hair hung down her back, and she had on one of those wispy dresses Tino knew all too well, ankle length and flowing, making her look like a runway model.
The leather bands on her wrists were clasped with gold, highly ornate, and seemed to match the rest of her. She looked like she was about to get on the train, and Tino wouldn’t have stopped her if she didn’t spot him too. He hadn’t even realized he’d pulled the sleeve to his jacket back instinctively and made his band visible to her.
She turned away from getting on and ran to him. She stopped a few feet in front of him, looking unsure, so Tino grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hug.
She was one of those Lost Girls who just curled into him, arms tucked close to her chest, which always gutted him. It was like she needed more than a hug. She wanted to be protected. To others she might look eighteen, but Tino guessed she was closer to his age, and no one seemed to question why a girl dressed like her was on the subway alone at night.
He held her tight and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You matter.”
“Thank you.” She nodded, her light eyes glassy as she looked up at him. Then she reached down and grabbed his left wrist, staring at the platinum clasp on his leather band. “You’re my favorite kind. I wish there were more of you.”
He winced at that. “Yeah, we’re rare.”
She looked at him with those crystal-blue eyes and said, “You matter,” so earnestly he believed her.
Then she pulled away and jumped onto the subway car, leaving the scent of flowery perfume in her wake.
“Weird,” Nova said over the click of him lighting a cigarette and the rattle of the train leaving. “It’s so weird. Why do you wear that thing?”
“I like giving out hugs to beautiful girls,” Tino said with a smile.
“It’s not just girls, though,” Nova pointed out. “There are plenty of beautiful boys too.”
“Well.” Tino held up his hands and left it at that.
This week the venue was in a particularly shit-tastic section of Harlem. Last week it had been in a shit-tastic section of Queens. Next week, they’d pick a new borough, but Tino and Nova usually liked when they landed in Manhattan.
They could crash at their old apartment, which was still paid for by Nova. Up until a few weeks ago, it’d been mostly empty. They had slowly moved most of their stuff over to Dyker Heights over several years, but they’d started furnishing it again.
Spending Cosa Nostra money.
And drug money.
Making it too nice, and Romeo was just going to know, but the don’s attitude about acting like you were part of the family had sorta rubbed off. They couldn’t let Romeo come home to a half-empty shithole.
They stopped at a bodega. Nova bought cigarettes, and they both took a leak. Most raves didn’t have bathrooms, and if this venue did happen to have one, a bodega in the shit-tastic part of Harlem would still be an improvement.
Tino bought a few candy bars and an energy shot, because he was fucking tired and the night was young.
Nova usually didn’t eat on Saturday.
’Cause the roll…
Tino got a few bottles of water and shoved them into the backpack—one, because he didn’t want to drop dead from heat exhaustion. Raves didn’t have air-conditioning, and even on cool nights it could get warm real fast. Two, he didn’t want Nova to drop dead either.
Ecstasy was one of those drugs that made someone sweat. Hard. What Tino sold was genuine MDMA, which wasn’t easy to find in New York City anymore. Most ecstasy out there now was synthetic, dangerous shit that killed clubbers like crazy.
Moretti ecstasy was magical. It was mostly safe…for an illegal, mind-altering drug that upped your body temperature in a room packed with hundreds of people and no air-conditioning. Tino bought a few extra bottles of water, which made Nova bitch when he was still carrying the backpack.
But chances were someone was going to need it.
When he was the one with the candy, trick-or-treaters usually found him before he got to the party. They were still a block away, and someone shouted, “Tino! You matter!”
Only an idiot would tackle Tino in the shit-tastic side of Harlem when he was dealing, but fortunately, he recognized the voice before a hundred and ten pounds of fun jumped on his back and held on for dear life.
“Is that a gun?” The voice was breathy. “Or are you just excited to see me?”
“Bobby, you’ve been drinking.” Tino kept walking with Bobby on his back because Nova didn’t stop. “I’m not selling to you.”
“Oh, bossy.” Bobby was still on him like glue, grabbing a piggyback ride to the venue as he leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Are you toppy with all those housewives?”