“Right,” I agree. “The rest, I don’t care if they like me or not.”
“You’re a good DA, a little harsh, but your heart is in the right place. With some open-minded understanding, I think you would give more second chances. Good people can make bad decisions and mistakes.”
“I know. Well, I’m starting to realize that, too, thanks to you,” I admit. “Living in the gray area is necessary sometimes. I didn’t think that a few weeks ago. I only saw things in black and white because my life has been so insulated from the problems of the real world.”
“I want to meet your parents,” Tristan says. “The next time you go visit, take me with you, and I’ll make sure they get off your ass.”
The thought of Tristan meeting my parents makes me laugh out loud. God, they wouldn’t know what to do with him.
“Since they will never approve of any man I choose, it could be fun to fuck with them. What about your parents?”
“They’re both dead. I don’t remember much about my mother. My father, well, he wouldn’t have liked you.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he would’ve took one look at you, knew you were too good for me, and that you were only going to break my heart. He was a bit cynical about love after my mom died. He never remarried, just slept his way through as many women as he could, as if he was trying to punish her, to get revenge on her for dying and leaving him. When I was nineteen, he got drunk, wrecked his motorcycle and died.”
“I’m sorry you lost both of your parents when you were so young.”
“I’m sorry your parents are cunts.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say with a heavy sigh.
22
Tristan
So, maybe I pull my punches just a little when Kirsten is watching me pummel the thief. He deserves more pain though for stealing from Emanuele and the Pesci family. If I let him off too easy, he might be stupid enough to rob someone else. If I inflict too much pain, Kirsten will run from me like her fine ass is on fire.
When the kid’s arms stop reaching up to try and swat me away from where he’s sprawled on the floor of his shitty little apartment in the Lower East Side, I finally stop beating him.
Rolling his limp body over, much like I did the dead man in Kirsten’s apartment, I pull out his wallet, which is empty, other than his license. When I check his pockets, I find a wad of cash in one front pocket, another wad in the other.
Standing up over him, I combine all the bills. Before I start counting, I nod toward Kelly and tell Kirsten, “You get to decide her punishment.”
“Me?” she whispers when she comes closer, and I have to restart my count, since she’s so pretty and so damn distracting.
I don’t respond until I have the final tally. “Four hundred is missing, but the rest is here. What did he already spend it on?” I ask the girl who stands pressed into the corner like she thinks she can hide in the shadows from me.
“It’s…it’s in my purse.” She nods her chin toward the bag on the kitchen counter.
“I’ve got it,” Kirsten offers as she goes over to dig through the girl’s things. A moment later, she holds up a baggie containing a colorful assortment of pills between the tips of her two fingers.
“Well?” I ask the prosecutor. “What do you want to do with her?”
Glancing at the unconscious man by my feet, Reggie, she says, “Let’s drop him off at the hospital and take her to a rehab facility.”
“Aw, you’re no fun, sweetheart.” Despite my complaint, I’m obviously still going to do whatever the woman wants.
Blowing out a huff of air, she digs back into the purse and pulls out a cell phone. “We could also call her parents…”
“Don’t you fucking dare!” the girl hisses.
“I think you’ve found the perfect punishment,” I laugh.
