Page 34 of Thin Lives

The Irish took responsibility for the attack almost immediately.

Now, there was police attention. More so than before.

Affonso was doing his best to keep his men happy and calm, but that was fucking impossible when a person didn’t feel safe doing regular business. There was a sit-down coming up between the Three Families in New York, and Calisto hoped that whatever the other two families could offer up would help to end the feud.

Frankly, Calisto had no interest in seeking out the Irish. They had spilled more than enough blood to make it clear they were not interested in talking. They wanted territory, at least that’s what it seemed like, and Affonso refused to hand it over.

Besides, Calisto’s accident—caused by the Irish—was enough trouble for him. He didn’t give a good goddamn how Affonso made the Irish go away as long as they went and stayed that way.

“You know, I could have taken the Subway and gotten there faster,” Calisto noted.

Tiny laughed. “I could see you riding the Subway now in that four-thousand-dollar suit.”

Calisto brushed off the enforcer’s joke, as his phone buzzed in his pocket, taking his attention away for the moment. Pulling it out, Calisto swiped his thumb across the screen and typed in the four-digit passcode to unlock the phone. His old phone had been practically ruined in the accident, and wasn’t even capable of being turned on. Still, he kept it at his place on his desk, in case he ever wanted to take it in and have whatever was on it put onto a thumb drive.

Pictures, contacts, videos and that sort of thing.

He just hadn’t found the time. He had kept the same number for his new phone.

A message from an unknown number filled the screen. It looked like a notification of some sort.

Nick’s Ink. One year notification for touch-ups. Respond with yes or no by text message for an appointment.

Calisto read over the message five times before it began to sink in what he was seeing. The rosary tattoo down his arm that led to the intricate cross inside his palm was in a particularly sensitive area. He’d looked up some information on tattoos on hands, and found that he would need to have his touched up on a six month to one year basis, but again … he hadn’t found time to do so.

Briefly, he wondered if the tattoo artist might have some kind of information on Calisto’s tattoo beyond just the date he had gotten it.

Like maybe why he had it done in the first place.

“Tiny, do you know a place called Nick’s Ink?” Calisto asked.

The enforcer passed him a glance in the rear view mirror. “Sure. Just a couple of blocks away.”

“What street?”

Tiny rattled off the address. “It’s a good shop. That’s where I told you to have that rosary done, but you probably don’t remember.”

“No, I don’t,” Calisto said heavily. “Sorry, man.”

“It’ll come back.”

Maybe …

Calisto glanced down at the message again, and had an idea. He wanted to know more about his tattoo, and the artist might be able to provide him with the information he needed.

“Tiny?”

“Yeah?”

“Not late yet, right?” Calisto asked.

“Nope.”

“I could run a couple of blocks and meet you up there when traffic finally makes it down, yeah?”

Tiny shrugged. “Probably.”

Calisto opened the back passenger door, unclipping his seatbelt at the same time. A car honked a horn as it moved past their SUV at a slightly faster speed. He ignored it.