He checked his phone, hoping for a missed call or voicemail.
The phone was as dark and silent as the night was glittery and loud. A cab passed him by, its horn blaring while a pedestrian yelled back with a middle finger raised.
Jimmy loved New York. Even when he hated it.
He revised that statement. He didn’t hate the city. Just the people who populated it.
* * * *
An hour later, he still hadn’t heard from Frisano, but he felt he owed Seetha Assan an explanation of what was happening, and what he’d done today. It was late and maybe he’d have more information by tomorrow, but he imagined her pacing that spacious apartment from window to window, fearful of her life being in the hands of others. How many sleepless nights had this woman endured in the last week? Hell, month, given her abdu
