This makes no sense,” I say, gesturing at the TV.

Haley slaps my arm, her eyes locked on the screen. “Shh!”

I force my smile down. “Why doesn’t she just call for help?”

“Her phone died!”

“Well, that’s convenient.”

“Weren’t you paying attention?”

“I was the first time you made me watch this—”

“Shh!” she scolds. “This is the good part.”

“Credits already? Sweet.”

Haley glares at me.

I laugh and toss up my hands. “All right, all right. I’m done making fun of your awful movie choice.”

“Can’t be any worse than Iron Man. Again. Or Point Break. Again. Or—”

“The Fault in Our Stars? Again.”

Her jaw drops and I laugh as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I slide it out and she strikes me with her pillow.

“No phones on movie night!” she says.

I glance at the screen and grin. “It’s a work thing, honey. I have to take it.”

“Is this the same work thing from last night?” she teases.

I answer it. “It’s Max, actually.”

She sits up quickly and extends her hand. “I wanna talk to him.”

I playfully hit her hand away. “Oh, now we’re allowing phones, huh?” I tease right back, bringing the phone to my ear as I walk backward out of the room. “Hey, Max. What’s up?”

“You know, Lance,” he begins, “when I told you to flip the witness, I didn’t mean over.”

I chuckle. “What?”

“You. The mobster’s daughter.”

I lower my voice. “I haven’t touched her.”

“Then, why is there a photo of you kissing her in the Sun-Times?”

“It was for charity.” I pause. “Wait, it’s in the Sun-Times?”

“Dancing with the Enemy,” he reads. “Just for the kids? Or does this Assistant State’s Attorney have a trick up his sleeve?”

I wince. “Well, shit.”

“Gotta love clickbait.”

“When was that posted?”

“Today, I guess,” he answers. “The article came up while I was doing a little digging into your girlfriend’s family.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say. “And what kind of digging?”

“Well... I called up my dad’s office and sweet-talked a paralegal for a while. Ended up with some information I think you should know.”

I smirk. “And how’s that girlfriend of yours again?”

“Oh, she was there, listening in, actually. Was all part of a... you know, never mind. Anyway, there are more important matters at hand.”

I roll my eyes. And I thought this guy was kinky in college. “What’d you find out?”

“Turns out that a murder confession isn’t the only thing Brittany Ives got out of Alonso.”

I step into the kitchen. “Oh, yeah?”

“The Argento family has been operating a protection racket throughout Chicago since the mid-90s,” he says.

“Really?” I reach into the fridge for two new sodas.

“Large-scale. We’re talking huge — and I know those mob guys just love to brag about size but he wasn’t lying about this. Angelo has a pinky in the accounts of nearly every locally-owned business from Norwood Park to Woodlawn. They pay up on time and he keeps their windows from getting smashed in by local gangs. Now, whether or not those gangs get a cut... well, that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?”

“How did they keep something like this quiet?” I ask.

“Rackets aren’t nearly as glamorous as murder and Ives is all about glitter and gold,” he says. “My father’s team managed to bury it so long as Alonso came clean about the dirty details surrounding his little trip to Los Angeles. But if you can uncover it yourself…”

I nod. “It might be big enough to make me a shoe-in for State’s Attorney.”

“Bingo.”

“Thanks, Max. I’ll look into it.”

“Yeah, maybe ask your new girlfriend,” he says, amused. “I’m sure she knows a thing or two.”

“She’s not—”

I stop as I walk back into the living room. Haley’s face turns up and I grin.

“Thanks again for the heads-up, man,” I say. “Now, if you’ll kindly move your phone about six inches away from your ear, I know a teenage girl who’s dying to talk to her Uncle Max.”

I drop the phone into Haley’s lap.

“Max!” she squeals loudly into the phone as she hops up and rushes into the next room. “I miss you! You never text me anymore... Nuh-uh!...”

I shake my head as her voice echoes throughout the house, enacting a bit of sweet revenge on my old college buddy. That should give me about five minutes of semi-peace to think this through.

I pop open my soda and take a long, smooth drink.

A protection racket? Not glamorous, as he said, but still very illegal. And tricky to prove — but if I can, then I might not even need Trix’s help…

“Hey, Dad! Can I spend New Year’s in New York with Max and his girlfriend, Phoebe? He said he’s cool with it if you’re cool with it.”

“Yeah, hun...” I blink as I realize what she asked. “Wait. No! You can’t.”

“He said yes!”

“I said no! Hal...”

I stand up and follow her voice through the house.