13
It’s three in the morning before I hear Uncle calling on our sole landline phone. I know it’s him because he’s the only reason we have a landline in our slummy one-bedroom apartment. The Cypriot were more than happy to pay for it, once Dryas and I were jumped in to their gang.
Especially for moments like this, where we’d receive calls in the middle of the night to go do whatever mayhem we were instructed to do.
Half asleep, I follow Dryas down the winding streets, past the cafe where we were just a few hours before. We keep heading down the street and I don’t think anything of it.
I don’t think at all, because I only went to sleep an hour ago.
When we get to the apartment building just two blocks from the cafe, I don’t connect the party that Brandon described as ‘right down the str
