Brendan (The Doherty Mafia Book 4) by Kasey Krane (psychology books to read txt) 📕

“Hey, it’s not my fuckin’ problem. All I’m saying is the next time you cause a scene, you’re out. You say you need this job, so act like you fuckin’ mean it.”

I was about to say something but decided against it. He was right. I needed to keep it together. With the diner cutting my hours I couldn’t afford to lose this job. I didn’t know if I’d even find another one easily. New York was filled with starry-eyed hopefuls who flocked to this city looking for work.

Right then, I felt like just another nameless face in a sea of other nameless faces.

It was pathetic that being with Brendan was the only time recently that I had felt remotely special.

I focused on working. Smiling. Bringing drinks. Laughing at the silly jokes people made when I delivered drinks to their tables. At least I made some tips tonight, which were all going to fund Davey’s dental appointment coming up.

I tried to think of my son in order to get through the night.

But soon enough, I got that feeling in my bones again—of being watched.

I told myself I was just being paranoid. That I was nervous about Brendan showing up at the bar. Whenever I looked over my shoulder or tried to find a strange face in the crowd, I couldn’t see anyone suspicious. Nobody was even looking at me particularly.

It was all in my head.

By now I was pretty sure that the guy I thought was following me down the street had been my imagination too. After all, I hadn’t seen him since.

Rocky and I were cordial for the rest of the night, and I found time to make some small talk with the other waitresses. Slowly, but surely, I could return to a sense of normalcy.

Seeing Brendan again…being with him again, had spun everything around. I didn’t even trust my own thoughts anymore.

Halfway through my shift, Rocky told me to take an order to a table at the far corner of the bar. I did as I was told, trying to force a plastic smile on my face by the time I got to the table—to encourage a tip.

I saw the man sitting by himself at the corner table. He had his face turned away from me but there was something about his demeanor that was familiar.

I was just seeing things—I said, almost out loud.

When I came up to the table, he turned to me and I saw his face.

It was the man from the street. The one who had followed me.

I gasped, stepping back in shock that I hadn’t been imagining it, and also scared.

He thought I was going to run away so he lunged forward and grabbed my wrists. He pulled me down into the chair across from him, leaning forward over the table to get closer to me.

“What do you want from me? Who are you?” I screeched.

I knew from personal experience that nobody would actually come to my rescue no matter what happened. I meant nothing to anybody at that place. Moreover, it was too loud there with the music anyway.

“Those are good questions,” the man replied with a dark ugly smile.

“Who sent you? Who do you work for? The Dohertys?”

This time he laughed wholeheartedly in response to my question. Apparently there was something about the Dohertys.

“No, I have never worked for any Doherty in my life,” he replied. It seemed like it was a matter of pride to him. So he did know the Dohertys? This was connected to Brendan somehow?

“Okay, so then tell me what you’re doing following me everywhere.”

The man let go of my hands and sat back in his chair.

“Didn’t curiosity kill the cat or something?” he said.

“Yeah, well, lucky for me I’m not a cat,” I replied.

The man had a mean smile that made my stomach churn. I wished I could have just walked away from him and found someone to help me. But I had the feeling he wasn’t going to let me go so easily. Besides, he would just find me somewhere else. Some other night. I needed to know what was going on and why I was being followed by this stranger.

So I waited for a response.

“We are interested in what you have to offer,” he began.

It was like he was talking in riddles. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Okay, I think you just have the wrong person. I’m not who you think I am.”

“You are exactly who I know you to be. Rosalie Turner, mother of Davey Turner, three years old.”

Hearing my son’s name made me sit up straight. He must have noticed the horror on my face because he smiled.

“That got your attention enough?”

“Whatever you want from me, leave my son out of this,” I hissed.

“Sure, Rosalie. I’m not interested in your son. I’m interested in what you can do for me. For us.”

“Who are you? Who is us? What is this about?” I lost my breath as I forced the words out. By now it was clear this had nothing to do with Brendan or the Dohertys.

He opened his mouth to speak but then looked over my shoulder into the distance. The expression on his face changed. When I turned around, I saw Brendan in the crowd. He hadn’t spotted me yet, but he was looking around the crowded bar. Clearly, he was looking for me.

When I turned back the man was already leaving.

“Where are you going? What is this?”

“We’ll be in touch. In the meantime, keep this meeting to yourself. For your own good, and for the sake of your son,” he said.

He was gone before I could reply.

I stood up, staring at him as he disappeared into the crowd. My hands shook. In fact, I was shaking all over. He hadn’t given me an explanation. Why did he leave so suddenly? Because he saw Brendan? Because he knew Brendan was there to see me?

I was lost in thought as