Bullet Shaped Heart

017.

"No, Nicholas can watch over Argos while I'm gone and Amelia and Marcus over their own organization. Its only a fair fight if one person from each organization is there." My voice was hard. Annoyed.

"I could go." Nick's voice blasted through the silence.

Motherfucker.

He wanted to go so he could be with Liliana.

"I'm the head. I say who goes and who fucking stays." I looked over and the fucker was smiling.

Control your anger.

He's trying to fuck with me.

"Carson's right. You two go. Your flight's tomorrow."

I stormed off away from them and got into my car. The silence was filled suddenly by the sound of my phone ringing.

"Kingston." I muttered into the phone.

"Carson. I need your help in Vegas. The mafia's a fucking mess." Christian.

"I told you I don't want anything to do with it!" I'm fucking tired of this long ass day. I want to fucking sleep.

Sleep is an escape to all the shit I have to go through, but its never ultimately peaceful. I still feel it, the pain, even when I'm unconscious.

"You're the one inheriting it!" Christian yelled.

"Set everyone in it on fire for all I care." I fumbled in my pocket trying to find my cigarette pack.

I had one hand on the steering wheel and used the other to light the cigarette.

11 minutes.

"Is our father still alive?" I asked him awaiting the answer. If he dies my life will be over. I'll be forced to become someone I don't want to ever be.

"He is, but he did break his arm in the field."

"Cut it off. He can live without it." I took a drag from my cigarette.

"You're intolerable lately. When was the last time you got laid?" He fucking chuckled.

2 Months ago. Before I met her.

"I'm not discussing my very exciting sex life with you, Christian."

He laughed even harder, "We always share our stories together!"

His laughter came to a sudden stop, "I'll amputate your father's arm if he bothers me again with the heir and consigliere shit."

"He's your father too." I spoke up.

"Don't remind me." He hung up.

I called Nick, but he didn't answer. I wonder what the fucker's doing.

I wanted to choke him. He was getting close to her. Too fucking close. I don't care. I shouldn't care, but she's our enemy and he's my best agent.
-

About 8 hours later, I had to get up to get to the airport.

I stayed on my bed unable to move. I was gazing into the ceiling. It was as if I was playing a movie tape in my mind.

So many possibilities. So little time to achieve them all.

In reality number one, I stayed doing the job I loved and the mafia never existed. It did of course, but I didn't have a single thing to do with it. I was completely and utterly free of it all.

In reality number two, The plane I'm about to go on fell to the ground and crashed. I died and I was free. I'd probably be going to hell though.

I don't think whoever's up there will feel pity on me just because "My father made me kill my first man at 13."