Underworld Ties

Cops with no donuts

Bobby stood behind the bar at his liquor business, polishing a glass with the kind of focus usually reserved for a surgeon. The place was buzzing with the late afternoon crowd, but his mind drifted to the chaos of recent events—the heist, the pregnancy, and the growing tension at home.

Just then, his brothers, Frances and Tommy, strolled in, their usual banter filling the air. "What's up, Mr. Big Shot?" Frances teased, clapping Bobby on the back. "You look like you've been through a blender."

"Yeah, well, if you only knew," Bobby replied, forcing a grin. "What brings you two here?"

"Thought we'd check in on you," Tommy said, sliding onto a barstool. "Heard about the baby news. Congrats, man!"

Bobby sighed, pouring himself a drink. "Thanks, but it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Complicated how?" Frances asked, lifting an eyebrow. "You're gonna be a dad! That's amazing!"

"Sure, but Mia's not handling it well. She's acting like I'm trying to replace her mom or something," Bobby admitted, pain evident in his voice. "And to top it off, I've got a warrant out for my arrest. Just great, right?"

"Dude, are you out of your mind?" Tommy exclaimed, leaning forward. "You can't be doing this shit! A kid on the way and you're dodging the cops? What are you, a cartoon character?"

"I didn't plan for any of this!" Bobby snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm just trying to do the right thing here. But every time I turn around, something blows up in my face."

Frances leaned in, serious now. "Listen, man. You need to get your shit together. It's not just about you anymore. You've got a family to think about."

Bobby ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his brother's words. "I know. I just... I feel lost. Like I'm in a freakin' maze, and every turn leads to another dead end."

"Have you thought about talking to someone? Like a counselor or some shit?" Tommy suggested, a little hesitantly.

"Yeah, I'm not sure if pouring my heart out to a stranger is my style," Bobby muttered, but deep down, he knew he couldn't keep going like this.

Just as they were getting into a rhythm, the door swung open, and a couple of uniformed officers walked in, scanning the room. Bobby's heart sank as he recognized one of them.

"Bobby DeMarco?" one of the officers called out, striding toward the bar.

"What the hell?" Bobby muttered under his breath, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights.

"Yeah, that's me," he replied, trying to keep his cool.

"Mind if we ask you a few questions?" the officer said, glancing around. "And maybe check out your backroom?"

"Check out my backroom?" Bobby echoed, his pulse quickening. "What's this about?"

"We've received some reports, and we need to investigate," the officer said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Reports? You mean the ones from last week's incident?" Bobby shot back, irritation flaring. "That was a misunderstanding!"

"Right, a misunderstanding," Frances chimed in, glancing nervously at Tommy. "You know how it is—Bobby's just a misunderstood business owner, trying to make a living!"

"Shut up, Frances," Bobby hissed, panic rising. "This isn't the time for jokes!"

The officers moved toward the backroom, and Bobby felt the walls closing in. "Guys, I need you to distract them while I figure this out," he whispered urgently to his brothers.