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I’m not dead.
That’s the first thought I have when I wake up this morning. To be honest, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
I stumble out of bed, knocking over the bottle of bourbon on my bedside table. I don’t bother picking it up. It’s empty so it’s not making a mess. I go to the bathroom and piss but forgo a shower. Instead, I make coffee and find another bottle of bourbon to spike it with.
The intercom of my apartment buzzes. I’d ignore it except I’m the head of the Bratva.
I poke the button. “Yeah.”
“It’s Niko.”
Fuck. “I’m busy.”
“Like hell you are. Let me up, you moron.”
Fuckity fuck. I poke the button, unlock my door, and go back to my coffee.
“You look like shit,” he says when he finds me in the eating area of my kitchen.
“Thanks for sharing.”
“No, really. You look like death warmed over.”
“Why are you here?”
He sighs and takes my mug, sipping as he sits down at the table. “Jesus, is there booze in this?”
“Yep.”
“It’s fucking eight in the morning.” He stands and tosses my coffee in the sink.
“Hey!” Too bad I’m not together enough to stand up and punch him for that.
“I’ll make you strong black coffee.”
“That's what that was.”
“Whiner.” He brews me another cup, handing it to me as he sits again. “What the fuck are you doing, Liam? Do you have a death wish?”
“What if I do?”
“Open the window and jump, because I can’t stand to see this shitshow you’ve got going on now.”
“Then go away and you won’t have to watch it.”
He sits back and crosses his arms. “Kate is doing well.”
“Who?” I’m such a fucking asshole.
“You’re a motherfucker, you know that?”
“I do.”
He studies me. “Why don’t you just go to her?”
“Who?”
“I see. You’re over her. Well, good. Then it’s not a problem that she’s moved on.”
