So this is the game that Carlo wants to play. Since I didn’t fall like a fricking fairy-tale princess into his arms when he had me pressed up against the car a few days ago, he’s given his Italian subordinates permission to go back to being assholes. When I walked into the class, I knew something was wrong. They’re in their usual places at the back, two of them with their backs turned, casually playing poker.
I’m honestly so done with giving a crap about them anymore. If they don’t want to learn, fine, as long as they don’t disturb Lucille, Max, and Johnny.
We go through some of our usual exercises and then it’s time for them to deliver their prepared speeches—an assignment from a few weeks ago. I don’t even ask the Italians if they’ve done theirs. It would be pointless. I push down the
