Page 35 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

She rolls her eyes playfully in Rico’s direction. “You said she’s a guest, Ricky. It’ll be just us–”

“I heard you on the phone with some dude earlier today, Miele. Lying ass,” the guy with the hoop earring gits from across the table. Miele must kick him, because he hisses and narrows his eyes at her.

“Just for that, you can’t go either.”

Miele’s eyes balloon. “Reno–”

A huge man two seats down mutters something in Spanish, effectively shutting Miele up. She visibly deflates, before reaching on her shoulder for hair that she must have cut off before we met. She’s quiet for the rest of dinner.

As soon as Mars clears his plate, he asks Rico and Nan something in Spanish, folding his hands together. I sneak a peek at them; Nan is grinning, while Rico’s jaw ticks.

Nan cuts her eyes to Rico before nodding, and to my surprise, Mars turns to me.

“Can you tell me a bedtime story?” He blinks those big eyes of his, and my heart doesn’t know if it wants to shatter or warm.

It leans toward the latter as I nod, and match his smile. He hops out of his seat, grabbing my hand once again and leading me out of the room.

A choruses of good nights ring out, and I wave back, the heaviness of the room dissipating the farther we get away.

I don’t know if I can do that every night.

“You, uh, eat with your family every night?” I ask, wincing that I’m gathering intel from a child.

Mars shakes his head. “Tío Ricky said you’re gonna start helping with the hotel tomorrow so he wanted everyone to meet you.”

“So who do you usually eat with every day?” I ask, noting he didn’t call Rico his dad.

“Miele and Cora. Nan cooks at the hotel. But when tío is here, we eat together.”

“What does that mean?”

We get back to Mars’s room, and he leads me to his bed. His grin is a little mischievous.“Tío means uncle, Wynter,” he says, his little brows furrowing like I’m being silly. “My daddy is his brother.”

My eyes stretch at his back, since he turns and runs to his dresser.

“Fredo,” I mouth, as my mind begins to work overtime.

Fredo had a son? Has a son. It sounds so impossible, but he’s right here, three feet away, picking out his pajamas.

I’m stuck as he yells he’ll be back and disappears into his bathroom.

Five, six years ago… Fredo was–

Oh. Oh.

It was kind of an “if you know, it’s for a reason” thing… Fredo being bisexual.

On the outside, Fredo pulled the baddest of the baddest. As we got older, he became the most approachable member of Foe Dub, so when we popped out, women flocked to him. He was genuinely nice. Fine. Paid, but not a drug dealer. And a certified freak.

Fucking Tune was an automatic good time. The best, by some accounts. He wasn’t old enough to rent a car, but was showing women the time of their life. A generous lover, my friends told me, and the best part was, he never had any women claiming him, ready to kill about him, like some of his other friends.

And if he really liked you, and you were down, rumor was Fredo would share you with his other equally as fine, equally as paid “friend” Slime.

I’m sure the guys knew Fredo was bi. They’d jumped enough niggas for calling him a slur, so they had to have asked for confirmation.

I don’t think they know Slime was bi.

I don’t think they knew he and Slime were boyfriends.