Bull’s anger kept ringing through my mind all that next day at work. I struggled through my normal routine and even managed to talk to Coop about the supposed article I was writing.

By the time I got off work, though, I was fried. My whole body felt heavy as I headed back to my building. I just kept seeing that anger in his eyes, and I wondered if he could ever move past it. I hoped so, not even for my sake, but for the baby’s.

We still had a long road ahead of us, fortunately, and I was hoping he could maybe forgive me a little bit if my article was ever published.

I told the truth about him. Normally when journalists wrote about Bull, they neglected to mention anything but his partying and his womanizing. Instead of doing that, I wrote about all the good things he did.

It was the opposite of a hit piece. It was totally positive and sung his praises. It was basically the best kind of PR a person could hope for.

As far as journalism went, it wasn’t a good article. People weren’t going to be very interested in it, since it just talked about how great Bull was. People wanted drama and negativity and parties, but I didn’t give them any of that. Coop was going to be very unhappy with me.

But I owed Bull. Although he thought I had fucked with him, I really hadn’t, not toward the end. I was just as into it as he thought I was, and maybe even more. Now I wanted to show him that, or at least show him that I wasn’t a horrible person.

I got back to my apartment and checked my phone. No new messages. I climbed the stairs slowly, taking my time, and finally ended up outside my apartment door.

I put my key against the lock, but the door pushed open. It hadn’t been closed all the way. Curious and a little afraid, I pushed it open.

“Hello?” I called out. I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, making sure it was definitely closed.

“Hello.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around, and standing there in my kitchen was the mobster from before, the man named Rafa.

“What the hell?” I said.

“Sorry to startle you.”

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

“Waiting for you.”

“You can’t be in here. This is trespassing.”

He laughed. “Get in here. I’m going to break some more laws.”

“No. Get the fuck out.”

“Charley, please come sit with me in the kitchen before I get annoyed.”

His expression was blank, and that scared me more than anything else. I walked slowly into the kitchen and sat down at my little table. He sat across from me and sighed.

“This has been an annoying few weeks. You know that?” he asked.

“Sorry to hear it,” I said.

“Thanks, but I think you and I can make my week better. What do you say?”

“I say you should leave. I’ll get you the money soon.”

“Oh, fuck that money. Five grand? I don’t care about five grand, Charley. I don’t care about it at all.”

“What do you want?”

“I want real money.” He leaned forward. “I want fucking Bull back. You know that man has brought the mob a lot of cash over the years? He has had so many messes that we needed to clean up.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“You do, though, for your article. I want you to write the real one, and I want you to sell it to the highest bidder.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Charley,” he said, sighing, “we read the article you put on your Dropbox. Two thousand words of praising him, of sucking his dick. Didn’t you do enough of that already?”

I clenched my jaw and wanted to smack him. “How did you get it?”

“We hacked your Dropbox, obviously. Now, let’s talk business.”

“I wrote what I wanted to write.”

“You wrote trash. I want you to write the real article using the details I provide, including pictures. Then you’ll sell it to the highest bidder, and you’ll give me eighty percent of the profits.”

“No,” I said. “I won’t.”

“You will, or I’ll break your fucking knees, and then I’ll break Bull’s.”

“You don’t scare me,” I said, though I was lying. I was practically shaking.

“Okay, sure. I don’t scare you. But I bet you’ll do it to help Bull, won’t you?”

“I’m not going to trash him for you. I won’t do it.”

“You will.” Rafa stood up. “You’ll find everything you need on this disc.” He took a CD from his jacket pocket and placed it down on the table. “Everything is on there. Write the real article, Charley, or else.”

“You bastard,” I said.

“Bye, Charley.” He smiled and then left, shutting the door softly behind him.

I nearly fell out of my chair. I wanted to weep and I wanted to scream. Most of all, I wanted to get out of there.

Not knowing what else to do, I got out my phone and sent a text. “The mafia came back,” I said.

Two minutes later, Bull called me.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” I said, “just shaken up.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming.”

“No. It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“I’m coming, Charley.” He hung up the phone.

I stared down at the CD, feeling numb. I didn’t know what the mob had on that disc, but I couldn’t help but think about Rafa’s comment about Bull’s messes. What sort of messes had they cleaned up? There were probably seriously incriminating things on that disc, things that would really destroy Bull.

He’d probably done some awful stuff. I knew some stories, and I’d bet that disc could confirm them. Everything about Bull that I had desperately wanted to know for so long was sitting right there in front of me, ready for the taking.

I picked it up and looked at it. CDs were an outdated thing. I didn’t even have a CD drive on my laptop anymore.

I bent it in half. It snapped. I broke it into tiny pieces and then threw it into the trash.

I didn’t care what Bull had done. I didn’t care what the mob had cleaned up. All I cared about was who Bull was now and what he tried to do to better himself.

I wanted to try to live up to that. I wanted to try to be better. I was done using; I was done blackmailing. I was done with all of that. I destroyed the CD and didn’t feel bad about it at all.

I had made my choice.

I was choosing Bull, even if he didn’t want to choose me.