"Jochem Vandersteen - Hard Upbringing (A Noah Milano Story)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vandersteen Jochem)

"I don't know, Miguel. I just came home, went into the kitchen to get a drink. I figured Kevin was probably in his room upstairs or something. Then when I entered the kitchen I found him lying there on the floor, lifeless. I just went into shock for a moment. Can you fucking believe that, Miguel? I'm used to seeing dead bodies on a regular basis, but when I saw my own son lying there, I just went fucking numb." Then he directed his gaze to me. His eyes were full of fire. "Then this fucking lunatic came in and threatened me."

"I was just trying to save the kid," I said.

"Yeah, right," Miguel said. "You're coming with us pal. What's your name?" Shit.

"Milano," I said. "Noah Milano."

Miguel's eyes went big, like he'd just caught a super sized fish. He grinned. "Noah Milano? Robert's kid? We just bagged the son of a big time mobster? Oh, that's fucking grand."

I sighed. "I guess telling you my dad never got convicted won't help?" It didn't. He slapped the cuffs on me. It was a feeling I knew well.

***

I was lucky. Stewart pressed no charges against me, so I got off the hook. I don't know why he let me go. I could see Miguel and Broussard would've loved to keep my ass in jail for a few weeks. Maybe Stewart figured if he let me off the hook I would do the same for him. Fat chance.

For some reason I felt obligated to go to Wanda and see if I could tell her what happened before she heard it from the cops. I hoped I'd be more tactful about it then they would because, for them, it might've gotten routine.

I called a cab and had it drive me to where I'd parked my car. I considered for a moment walking around the corner, just to check out Stu's house. I decided against it though. It was probably still crawling with cops and they wouldn't approve of me sneaking around there. That thing about the criminal always returning to the scene of the crime.

I just started my engine and nosed out of the street, heading for Wanda's place.

***

I parked my car at the appartment building where Wanda lived. A fancy Audi was parked in front of it. The license plate said 'WM 01'. Fancy car and a flashy license plate. I didn't really figure her for the type.

I entered the apartment building. The place was a dump. The wallpaper in the hall was yellowed and torn. The elevator didn't work. I wondered if the tenants had running water. Wanda lived on the 4th, so I had to take the stairs. Good thing I jog on a regular basis. Once every year.

Wanda's appartment was the last one in the hall. I knocked. Nothing. I knocked again. Wanda's voice replied, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Noah," I said. I figured this wasn't the time for knock-knock jokes. "I need to talk with you."

"Just a moment," she said.

A couple of minutes later the door opened. She looked like she'd been sleeping in a gutter for three months. Her hair was a mess, her mascara was all over her face and she was so pale she made me think of a mime. I hate mimes. Almost as much as rap music.

She pressed into my body and started to cry. I guess she'd already heard the news. Her body was warm through the silk bathrobe she wore. I could smell cigarette smoke in her hair while I stroked it.

The door fell shut behind me.

We stood there for a few minutes. Or a few hours, time didn't seem to exist for a moment. It was nice to comfort someone for a change. Normally I spend more time beating people up.

Finally she seemed to regain her voice and obviously felt a little awkward. She stepped back and smoothed the bathrobe in the same way she'd smoothed her skirt a day ago. It pulled tight around her well rounded body.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping away her tears. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable."

"You didn't," I assured her. "I guess you heard the news about your son. I'm very, very sorry."

She nodded. "I know. I was so afraid this would happen."