Aunt Farley carried herself well for a woman pushing forty. She was called in immediately to look after Conrad at Tony's request. Initially, she had demanded an explanation for Daphne's disappearance. She hated lies, deception and bullshit, almost disagreeing entirely to looking after her nephew with no clue of what was going on.
She agreed to look after him anyway. Tony had no means of telling a single soul about his cocaine addiction. He was never quitting and never allowing it to be another person's problem. It wasn't his damned intention to get caught with a bag of it in his pants pocket whilst being felt up by his wife. Daphne and her fucking conclusions. Her stupid rules of no drugs in a house with children in it.
"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Tony opened the car door for Farley.
The woman scowled.
"It's for the kid." She assured. "I know whatcha're up to."
Farley pasted a huge smile on her face at the sight of Conrad watching them through the window. Her blonde bangs nearly covered her eyes and her short figure was complimented by a pair of tight jeans and a lowcut top. Her jacket was made of fur.
Tony said nothing. He wasn't going to admit shit to anyone.
As they walked up the long driveway, they chatted about life circumstances, their grandmother's declining health, and, of course, Daphne.
"She's a wonderful woman. I don't know many women who would have kids with a guy who murders junkies."
Tony laughed out loud.
"If she were wonderful woman she'd understand. Who the fuck walks out on their family?"
Farley gave him a sharp look.
"You do know where she is, don't you?"
"Of course."
"Then you best be glad she hasn't actually left your ass."
In truth, darling Farley hated being the eldest sister of four siblings by several decades. She didn't understand why her father didn't pay for his harlots abortions – oh, wait, because he was a horrible man – instead of introducing several maladaptive children who would succumb to his abuse into the world. Tucker died at fifty seven years old in a home invasion. His only daughter had nothing to say at his funeral.
They entered the silent house to find young Conrad in tears. It was obvious Farley's presence meant his mother wasn't returning. His aunt scooped him into her arms, attempting to reassure him, saying that she was just taking a short break from his father. That they were having issues they would fix. Nothing a seven year old wanted to believe.
Naturally, Conrad thought for the worst. He wasn't a stupid kid.
The weeks went by slowly. Farley cleaned the house, cooked his meals and went to sleep late every night. Her guilty pleasure was chain smoking cigarettes. In the house.
Conrad loathed Daphne's absence, as much as he loved his aunt. Nothing could cure his disdain and solemnity. The depression only got worse until one day, the door opened to reveal his mother standing in the front hall.
She and Farley chatted for about fifteen minutes before either of them noticed Conrad watching them. She had returned home at eleven at night, many hours passed his bed time.
"Conrad?" Daphne called out.
He disappeared out of sight back into his room. He was not going to forgive her easily.
—
Tony was weaving through traffic on his way home in his Ferrari. Behind him, he saw blue and red lights beginning to tail his vehicle.
Fuck, he thought. Another thousand going into the hands of a law enforcement officer. He couldn't spend a night in a cell, or whatever the laws were for driving forty over. His guilty pleasure was speeding in his car he knew no one in the general population could afford. He was a top dog. He was Tony fucking Amato. He was also sick with bipolar disorder.
He decided to pull over.
As the man approached, he read his body language. Why the fuck was the cop anxious? Did he know something about him?
"Evening, sir."
"License and registration, please."
Tony's mouth twitched as he tried to conceal his laughter. The policeman's voice had fucking cracked.
"How about we make this a fair game for both of us. You take this cash and I get out of your sight. Sound fair?"
The policeman stared at the bills in Tony's hand. He ashamedly accepted his offer, glancing between the money and the thug's dark eyes for almost a minute before making up his mind. They were to never see each other again. He figured Tony couldn't do a vehicular manslaughter in a Ferrari without the damned thing igniting in a collision, most likely killing himself before anyone else. Something told him to allow natural selection run its course.
Tony arrived home late. Daphne was asleep in their bed after giving up on seeing him that night. He had a lot of business to deal with, none of which involved seeing other women. His focus was his family.
Daphne woke at the sound of the front door opening. She begged the Lord that he was not on drugs. Closing her eyes, she counted her blessings until she fell back asleep.