Book 3: Second String

Tony

“Check on the fucking capos,” I mutter under the music as I soar down the Verrazano Bridge in the dead of night. “Call them back. Check in with Cal fucking Duncan. Take out my goddamn laundry while I play house upstate. I’m the don, don’t forget.”

In my mind, I hear Seb’s response. You sound like a cranky toddler, Tony. You two love each other. He’s dealing with a lot. You’ll be back to normal in no time.

“He’s dealing with a lot?” I demand. “I’m talking to my dead fucking brother in my mind as I drive to meet the head of the Irish Kings.”

The Seb in my mind only shrugs. I win a lot more arguments since—

I crank the music to drown out my thoughts.

After weaving through city traffic, I pull up in front of McCreegan’s Pub and leave the music blaring for a few extra seconds. May as well give the little dick something to complain about. Then, I shut off the car and head inside. Just like last time, the bartender leads me through