“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” I ask as my mama-bear protective instincts shift into overdrive.
I’m getting concerned looks from Q’s family, but admittedly, it sounds bad.
“I’m fine. I promise. I just really need you to make bail for me. Jail is seriously gross. And dirty. Please get me out of here, Scarlett.”
“Okay, okay. Tell me exactly where I need to go and what I need to do, and I’ll be on my way.”
It’s a first for me, being called to bail someone out, but I suppose this should also fall under the heading of #LifeIsMessy. Also, possibly a new one—#FirstsForScarlett.
Flynn rattles off the information, and I commit it to memory before telling her I love her and hanging up. I flip open a note on my phone and am typing it all out in case I forget something, just as Big Mike comes over to the lawn chair where I’ve taken up residence while he watches yet another football game.
“Everything okay? You sounded upset.”
“My stepsister needs me to bail her out of jail, and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”
“Oh shit.” He whistles with a toothpick still hanging out of his mouth. “She must be a spitfire too.”
“She’s something, all right. I need to call Gabriel and tell him what’s going on, but I don’t want to distract him from finding Rolo.”
“You can call him on the way. I’ll take you. This ain’t my first rodeo with bailing punk kids out of jail.”
I stare up at the man, who looks like a bear compared to his much leaner son. “Really? Because I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
He shrugs. “The Jets lost. And the only ones winning this game are the refs. Besides, you’re family now. Shit like this is what we do.”
And just like that, this big burly man melts my heart. “Thank you, Mr. Quinterro. I really appreciate it.”
“Big Mike. Or Big Daddy, if Gabe’ll let you.” He scrunches his nose and winks at his wife, who is already reaching out to swat him on the arm.
I break into a grin. “Thanks, Big Mike. I’ll get back to you on that.”
Thirty-Seven
Legend
“What the hell are you doing here?” Francine, Rolo’s on-again off-again girlfriend, stares at me through the inch-wide gap between the door and the frame, her beady eyes just above the chain.
“Why do you think? Looking for Rolo.”
“He ain’t here,” she spits out, her voice full of venom.
“Would you tell me if he was?”
“Hell no. You bailed on him after you got what you needed. Real shitty, Legend. You know he thought of you like a brother? And then you turned your back on him. Not cool. Not at all.”
“Listen up, Francine.” Q cuts in, stealing her attention. “Rolo’s got himself into some real bad shit, and it’s gonna bite him in the ass. Unless you want the next time you see him to be in a closed casket, you need to tell us where the hell he is.”
Her mouth screws up into a tighter frown. “Yeah, right. You ain’t got the balls to kill anyone. You’re just Legend’s pussy errand boy.”
Q smiles, and I’ve seen that ticking time bomb before—it’s taking everything he has not to explode. “You better back the fuck up, Francine,” he sings with an obviously over-the-top friendly voice and then waggles his eyebrows at her. Quinterros always seem to smile while they lose it.
She jerks away from the door just as Q kicks out and busts the chain right off it, sending the door flying open.
Francine screams curses at us as she stands back with her arms crossed over her chest. “You piece of shit. Both of you. And that old man with you too. You just breaking into people’s houses now?”
I shrug as I walk right by her and check the kitchen before making a quick circuit of the rest of the apartment.
No Rolo, and no sign that he’s been here in ages.
I come back to the living room and break through Francine’s temper tantrum with a shout.
“Hey. Listen up. You know where he’s at, you call him and tell him that he needs to get in touch with me. Bodhi Black says Rolo just tried to take out his knee to stop this fight, and Bodhi’s on the warpath. You’d rather have me find Rolo first, if you know what I mean.”
Her hands fly in the air, and it’s clear from her bouncing tits that she doesn’t find bras necessary. “Like I give a fuck about some random dude’s knee. Get out of here before I call the cops. I’m gonna have to blow the fucking super to get this door fixed.”
I shake my head at her. “Might want to clean up that crack pipe in your bathroom before you do any of that, Francine. And if you see Rolo, tell him we’re looking for him.”
Turning on my heel, I walk out with Q and Hal at my back.
My phone starts ringing as soon as the door slams behind us.
“You think Rolo knows we’re here?” Q asks as I pull it out of my pocket.
“No way.” I glance at the screen. “Besides, it’s Scarlett.” I tap the glass to answer. “Hey, ladybug. What’s going on?”
“Well, I’m with Big Mike, and we’re headed to the Manhattan Detention Complex to bail out Flynn. If you’re not too busy, I’d appreciate you meeting us there.”
All three of us freeze in front of the elevator.
“Come again?”
“Flynn got arrested. I’m going to get her out. You want to join the party?”
I look up at Q, who is shaking his head, and I can’t help thanking God he already got some of his frustrations out on Francine’s shitty door. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Nope.”
“We’re on our way,” I tell her. “Meet you there.”
“Thank you, stud. I love you.”
“Love you too, baby.” I hang up the call, and Q’s eyebrows might as well blend directly into his hairline.
“You’re fucking kidding me with this bullshit, right?”
“Fuck if I know. Come on. Let’s go.”
Thirty-Eight
Scarlett
Gabriel, Q, and Hal meet us on the sidewalk in front of “the Tombs,” which are made up of the four fifteen-story towers of the New York City Criminal Courts Building, and I pull an envelope of cash out of my purse.
“I didn’t know how much to get out of the safe. Do you think ten thousand will be enough?”
“What the hell did she do?” Gabriel asks with a look of incredulity on his handsome face.
“I have absolutely no idea. She said she was on a date with a guy, and there was some kind of misunderstanding.”
“Of course there was.” This comes from Q, who is raking his fingers through his jet-black hair. “That girl is a damned menace.”
“Hey, she’s my sister. Be nice.”
“I’m confused,” Big Mike says, breaking into the conversation. “I thought you said she was your stepsister.”
“Ex-stepsister, but I’m claiming her as family anyway,” I say to clarify. “Thank you for the ride, Mike. You don’t have to stick around. I’m sure Joanie would be thrilled to have you come straight home.”