After his wife left, he’d turned into a womanizing prick, but he rarely let us see that side of him. “Good, because I was going to say you might want to introduce yourself before you slobber on her. I couldn’t exactly place it, but it irritated me. I felt a sudden ball of tension wrap up in my chest. He’s stringing you along.” Jonathan tipped his drink to his lips and watched the woman standing by the piano like a hawk observing a mouse. In the end, of course, he’d asked for me back, and I’d declined while holding back tears. But with so much dead weight between us, I had trouble eating. We had a mortgage together, and bills, and I knew the intimacies of his campaign for mayor about as well as I’d known the intimacies of his body. He’d said it was business, and in a way, it was. But he’d called, and I had lunch with him, like a damned fool.

Every time I look at him, I can’t stop seeing him having sex with that girl.” Of course he’d be the most forgiving, and of course he was the one I chose to be with. He was in love with his ex-wife, who had left him for another man. So it sounds like you want to go back to him.” I’m the one you keep talking to about him, and I keep giving you the same answer. I’m telling you to forgive him if you have to, but if you’re going to, just do it and drop it. All your sisters will tell you to forget Daniel Brower completely. “Are you even paying attention?” I asked. I hadn’t felt anything but annoyance with his lack of attentiveness until he looked at me again, and his entire face changed from voracious and single-minded to the usual bemused and arrogant.

He looked away from her, and I sensed the air between them rip. “You just agreed that the Angels were superior to the Dodgers.” It wasn’t quite like a bird, but more like a dozen of them layered one on top of the other. I mentally rolled my eyes, if such a thing were possible, and kept my physical eyes focused on the woman singing. These are my rituals, my sold souls, my men of honor. I’ve introduced you to my family traditions, my honorable pledges, my versions of ambition and art. The facts are not neat and tidy, and the anecdotes are often confused with universal truth. Each tells a different story and all the stories are true.

And the authorities think they know shit. The illusion of constancy arises from the mythologies of the men of tradition running them, not from historical fact.īut tradition is not the same as uniformity. You’d think you could nail down a little consistency with organizations that are behind so much modern-crime folklore.Īlas, organized crime in 2014 bears no resemblance to versions from the ’70s, ’80s, or ’90s. Any similarities to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.Ĭover Art designed by the author preface. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.

Spin by C.D. Reiss