Page 18 of Bene

Yeah, that worked.

Mentally, he patted himself on the back for the quick attention to detail. In reality, it probably did nothing for his brother’s concern.

“Where are you?”

“Why?” he asked.

Beni made a noise under his breath. “It’s afternoon there, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you drinking last night?”

“And?”

He didn’t mean to get defensive, but it was fucking hard not to, all things considered. This was his life right now, he had to work through some shit, and this was how he chose to do that. No one else needed to be sticking their nose into it, including his twin. He loved Beni, no doubt about it, but he wasn’t having this conversation when he was two seconds away from spilling whatever he drank from last night all over the shiny, hardwood floor of his bedroom.

That’s all.

Bene dragged a hand over his face, feeling the scuff growing on his cheeks and jaw. He needed a shave, and soon. Or someone would speak up soon, and tell him the usual trash. Made men don’t have facial hair, so get rid of it. It didn’t seem to matter that he wasn’t made yet, and he didn’t have his in to the family business. If he wanted to be part of the mafia, he needed to act like it, no excuses.

He loved this life.

He also hated it.

Sometimes.

“You’re not even listening to me again, are you?”

Bene blinked.

The call was still on?

Wow.

He needed to go back to bed.

Now.

Five minutes ago.

“Bene, are you okay?” he heard his twin ask.

“I’m fine.”

That was all he said before he hung up the call, tossed the phone to the bedside table, and crawled back under his sheets. Fuck his whole life. Yeah. At least for today, fuck it all. He would handle this another time. Maybe later … maybe never.

What did it matter?

Bene didn’t even know what was wrong anymore.

Not really.

Bene didn’t manage to drag his ass out of bed until closer to four in the afternoon, and even then, it was only to dress in something suitable, so he could head to his favorite restaurant down the block that also doubled as a bar in the evenings. A business his eldest brother, Marcus, owned. One amongst many in the city that had the Guzzi name attached somewhere in the paperwork.

Not that he needed to drink again, and especially not mid-week, but the best way to cure a hangover was with a couple of shots. Or just chugging a whole beer. Whatever worked, Bene was up to try, and also ignore the fact he shouldn’t be drinking at all. He didn’t need the problem that this was becoming for him, and yet he also didn’t know how to stop.

Just perfect.