One
Ain’t She Sweet
Luca
Almost Ten Years LaterToday’s the day.
“You sure about this, Luc?” my cousin Rock asks, twisting his big body to look at me over the front passenger seat as his identical twin, Stone, pulls the Cadillac to a stop on the left side of Columbia Law School’s iconic, Jerome Greene Hall.
I don’t answer. Mostly because I don’t want to, but also because I’m busy looking out my street side window. Waiting for her to appear as a live recording of “New York, New York” starts up on the Frank Sinatra Sirius XM station, Rock knows to always put on when I’m in the car.
“Luc? Luc?” Rock asks, apparently, not taking my silence as an answer.
Stone knuckle punches the radio’s power button, cutting off Frank just as he starts spreading the news. “If he wasn’t sure, he wouldn’t
