I retreat back the way I just came, strolling over to the next flight of stairs that leads me to the third floor. It’s been ages since I’ve been up here. I moved out years ago, and whenever I’m here, it’s always for business, so I never had a reason to visit the floor I spent my childhood on.
It feels the same, drab and suffocating. Memories flood me, thoughts and events that ultimately lead me needing to be free of this place the moment I was old enough. Max was the first to go, considering he’s five years older than I am. I went shortly after, then followed Emilio, and the twins. Leaon has been on the road, touring from the moment he graduated from high school. And Kenley, my baby sister, couldn’t wait to get to college.
Of all of us, she hated it here the most, so I helped secure a penthouse apartment, a few miles from campus. She gets on my nerves, and we fight like siblings do, but I’d do anything for the kid.
When I reach Ashton’s room, I don’t bother knocking. It’s pitch-black except for the dim light shining from the many monitors he has set up on his desk. He’s wearing headphones and bobbing his head to the music. It is so loud that I can hear it from way over here.
He’s in his zone, typing away on his keyboard, no doubt digging into a system he has no business in. As I get closer to him I realize I'm right. The name of his school dances along the screen, and I shake my head at him, a proud smile tugging at my mouth.
Like I said, everyone in this family has a part to play, but Ashton is probably the most talented of us all. I have no idea how he got into it, but the moment Dad realized how skilled of a hacker he is, Dad puts him to work every chance he gets.
Unlike us, Baby has the chance to be free of this mess. He’s the youngest, and naturally, we all want to protect him, Alfredo included. I saw the worry in Alfredo’s eyes when I asked for my brother; he probably thought my father was ready to drag him into our lifestyle completely.
That isn’t the case, and ironically, none of us want that. We’d prefer he’d stayed out of things, get his degree, and open a tech company or something, but while the rest of us were forced into a life of crime, Baby wanted nothing more than to join us. He looked up to everyone, and from the moment he was old enough to understand what it is our family does, he’s done everything he can to impress our father.
It was Max and me who convinced Dad to let Baby live as normal a life as possible. Out of all of us, he’s the one who can make something of himself that isn’t consumed with Papa Ciccone’s bidding. If Dad leaves Ashton out of it, only calling on his skill set when we absolutely need him, then we’ll handle the rest. There’s no sense in all of us being corrupted.
“What’s up?” he says when he spots me through the reflection on one of his monitors.
I grin and continue walking until the back of his chair is against my front. “I need a number.”
He doesn’t look away from the computer but nods anyway. “Name?”
“All I have is a first name.”
The keys clack loudly. “Address?”
Taking my phone from my pocket, I bring up the picture I snapped of Arloe earlier and hold it out for him. “Her name’s Arloe, she works at Ever After Books on the same block as my shop. But I don’t know if she owns it.”
Ashton pauses for a brief moment to inspect the photo. “Nice tits,” he admits.
I slap him upside the head with the back of my hand, not caring that I’m wearing all of my jewelry today. He rubs the place I hit, a low hiss coming from his lips.
“Chill,” he blurts. “You and them fucking rings. I swear you look like one of those old, has-been-ass pimps with all that fucking jewelry on,” he insults.
My gaze falls to my hands where I inspect my rings. There’s one on every finger except my thumbs, and that’s only because rings on that digit can sometimes interfere with a fist.
“Just find the fucking number,” I retort.
Ashton chuckles and nods. “Send me the pic.”
I do as he asks and Airdrop it to him. Within seconds, his computer dings to alert us he’s received it. He opens the file then drags it into a different software.
“She definitely has nice titties.” He beams with a nod.
I hit him again, this time with the inside of my palm.
“Okay, okay. Who is this chick?”
I don’t answer him right away as my focus is on the screen. “Somebody I want to know,” I say after a beat. “What’s this?” I point toward the screen before crossing my arms over my chest.
“It’s a facial recognition program. If she has a driver’s license, passport, or any government-issued ID, I’ll be able to find her. Since you only have her first name and don’t know if she owns the store, this will be the best way to find her.”
Ashton continues to type away on his mechanical keyboard, digging through loads of data. Watching it all makes my eyes cross. It’s complicated, tedious, and I’m glad he’s the one with this ability and not me.
“How the fuck did you get into this?” I mutter, more to myself than him.
He smirks like he always does whenever one of us shows how confused we are by his skill. I can tell it makes him feel satisfied, to know this is the one thing he has over us. It’s an advantage, leverage he can use to impress our dad, despite how hard we’ve all worked to keep him away from our lifestyle.
“It’s simple, really.” He tilts his head a little then double taps on the enter button. “All right. Arloe Harway.” Ashton plops back into his seat. “She’s twenty-six, from up north, Virginia to be exact. Looks like she moved to town about six months ago, when she opened up that bookstore. No kids that I can see. She has a degree in business and literature.” He says that last word with emphasis, and I smirk. “I mean, aside from having a nice rack, she reads like your everyday nerd.”
“Shut up.” I grimace and lean over him, pointing to a line on the screen. “What’s this say?”
He sits up again and scrolls down the page. “And the plot thickens,” he says enthusiastically.
“What?”
“Looks like our little bibliophile has a dirty past. She was arrested. Quite a few times actually: indecent exposure, disturbing the peace, ooo.” He leans forward. “Nice.” He cheers but continues when I clear my throat. “She’s got a temper. Apparently, her college roommate pressed charges for assault during her freshman year. Although her dad managed to get it thrown out.”
“What’s his deal?”
“Ah, let’s see.” Ashton clicks on another button and uses his mouse to scroll the page. “Makes sense. She’s loaded. Well, her dad is, based on these bank records.” He directs my gaze to the screen on the far right. “She’s on the verge of bankruptcy. But her dear ol’ dad is a city official for Arlington County, and before that he spent his life growing his father’s hospitality chain. And we’re talking Conrad Hilton type of money.”
I let the information he’s gathered sink into my thoughts and I store them to memory, not sure what I plan to do with those details. “That number?”
Ashton scribbles it down on a piece of paper, tears it, and hands it to me. I ball it into my fist while tapping him on his shoulder with my knuckles before stepping away. It’s a silent thank you, another form of endearment we’re not used to expressing in this family.