Nicco - Season 2

26. Our Flow

ARIA

His jet just landed in JFK, and he's on his way to pick me up.

As I wait for Nicco's arrival, I stand in front of The Meridian. The security team that he gifted me is lurking about five feet away. These days, they're always close by. When you dance along the razor's edge with criminals like Juan Pablo, danger embeds itself in every moment of your existence. He and I have been rolling in the dirt together for too long. There's no way I can walk away with clean hands and escape our crimes unscathed.

The money laundering.

The securities fraud.

The insider trading.

The tax evasion.

The bribery.

You name it, we're doing it. I've been collecting all the evidence to set him up for the fall once the timing's ripe. My plan should be foolproof save for one downside: Once I get ready to push the fucker over the edge, he won't hesitate to pull me down with him. I might go to prison, too. It's impossible to cover my tracks completely when I'm in so deep.

I can tell Juan Pablo is growing restless, no longer trusting me with critical tasks like he used to. I think Manning's betrayal has forced him to second-guess all of his alliances. As a result, my bodyguards have become a point of contention for us. Juan Pablo wants to replace them with his men. But I refuse to budge on this matter, so I keep making up excuses to delay his request. Juan Pablo's patience is running thin. He's growing increasingly suspicious about my loyalties even though I have yet to shove the knife in his back, so, wherever I go, Nicco makes sure that Collins, Miller, and Leo are never far away.

I'm glad they're around, I guess, but it took some time to get used to their round-the-clock presence. Now, the three of them, despite being such brawny, mean-looking brutes, have become as familiar as my own shadow. Over the last few months, I've gotten to know each of them—for better or for worse—and what they bring, individually, to the table rather well. Collins happens to have a talent for sending trained killers into the ICU with his bare hands, Miller can gun down any moving target within 100 yards, and Leo is as OCD about logistics and planning as me. As a team, they've managed to keep me safe while I continue to play a wolf in sheep's clothing around Juan Pablo.

As my bodyguards, Nicco's men are consummate professionals.

Truly the best of the best.

As my companions, however, the guys leave a lot to be desired. Long story short, they're driving me nuts, often acting more like three overbearing brothers who won't stop teasing and pranking me about everything under the sun.

Last month, Miller spammed my phone with endless cat memes until I blocked him for a full two hours. For no reason other than to annoy me.

Three weeks ago, Collins beat me in a game of Tetris and refused to let me live it down. Even though this was the first time he beat me in the hundreds of matches we've played against each other.

Two weeks ago, in retaliation to me barring Miller from sending any more cat memes, Leo bombarded my office with the most obnoxious, glittery cat stickers known to mankind. He put them everywhere. My wall calendar. My mousepad. My laptop screen. Nothing was safe. Nothing remained sacred. To this day, I still have glitter on my keyboard, for fuck's sake.

Then, a week ago, all three of them became obsessed with making fun of my obsession with dipping fries in mayo.

***

"Ketchup exists for a reason, you know."

"I feel sorry for your taste buds, Senarath."

"No potato should be allowed anywhere near that condiment."