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Second String
Tony “Check on the f*****g capos,” I mutter under the music as I soar down the Verrazano Bridge in the dead of night. “Call them back. Check in with Cal f*****g Duncan. Take out my goddamn laundry while I play house upstate. I’m the don, don’t forget.” In my mind, I hear Seb’s response. You sound like a cranky toddler, Tony. You two love each other. He’s dealing with a lot. You’ll be back to normal in no time. “He’s dealing with a lot?” I demand. “I’m talking to my dead f*****g brother in my mind as I drive to meet the head of the Irish Kings.” The Seb in my mind only shrugs. I win a lot more arguments since— I crank the music to drown out my thoughts. After weaving through city traffic, I pull up in front of McCreegan’s Pub and leave the music blaring for a few extra seconds. May as
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