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As succinctly as possible I told her of my similar experience.
The sounds of popping corn lessened and then stopped. Soon, Russo appeared with two bowls. “I don’t have any butter for my two princesses. My sincerest apologies, little lambs. Next time I’m at the store, I’ll get some. I hope you both like orange soda.” He jogged back to the kitchen and returned with three cans of a generic brand of pop.
“How are we going to drink with our hands tied?” I asked. “Maybe you could untie us for the movie?”
He stared at me for a long time, indecision in his eyes. Finally, he shook his head no. “Too risky. Once you two see how happy we’re all going to be here together, it won’t be necessary. However, I can see you still are under the delusion you’re better off going back to your old lives. So, for now, I have to keep you like this. But you can still eat and drink, even with the ties.” He drew in a deep breath, making his pot belly rise and fall. “Now, we’re going to watch my favorite movie. Tomorrow, one of you can choose the film. How much fun, right? We get to share all our favorite things with one another. They may have stolen our past and the chance we had to grow up together, but they can’t take it away again. We’re family. That’s the most important thing in the world.”
Neither Heather nor I responded, but it did little to deter his enthusiasm.
“This is a perfect afternoon for me.” Russo crossed to a cabinet and pulled open the double doors. Inside were rows of DVDs. “Fried chicken, popcorn, and a movie. What could be better?” He turned away to riffle through the movies. “Nostreaming here in the middle of the mountains but fortunately, we have tons of choices, including my favorite.” He held up a case to show us his pick.Armageddon.
I wasn’t sure what to think about his movie choice, other than it seemed oddly normal for a guy who had just kidnapped his two long-lost sisters.
Russo stuck the DVD into the player and used an ancient remote to turn on it and the television.
“Before you put the movie on,” I said, stalling for time. If we got him talking, I might uncover further insight into his disturbed mind. “Tell us more about our dad. Were you close?”
He sat back in the ratty easy chair and flipped up the footrest. “I don’t know how to tell you two this so I may as well say it bluntly. Our father was what one might call controversial.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“You mean, besides being a hired killer?” Heather asked.
I shot her a look of warning. We didn’t want to antagonize him. Playing up to his sense of family was the only thing that might save us.
“The choice of his profession was out of necessity.” Russo pointed the remote at the television and hit Play, only to pause it before the action started.
“Necessity?” Heather asked. “There are a lot of ways to earn a living that don’t involve killing people.”
“I think he means our father didn’t have a lot of opportunities,” I said, diplomatically, even though I wanted to pile right on the bashing wagon with Heather.
“That’s right. Born poor with nothing and no one to help him,” Russo said. “Not like us. We have one another now.”
“How many people did he kill?” Heather asked.
Russo’s expression turned temporarily irritated. Heather needed to hold herself back or she would get him angry at us, and that did no one any good.
“I wasn’t privy to that information,” Russo said. “All I know about is the one that put him away. Before that, we’d go for periods of time when we had hardly any money at all and then there’d be a big windfall. Lived like kings for a while, but then we’d be broke again. So I figure every time he came home with steaks, someone was dead.”
Heather scooted closer, until our legs were only inches apart. I wanted to hold her hand, but it was impossible with the ropes.
“But he was nasty, I can’t lie. Not like me. I want only for you two to have a good life. Here with me is not going to be like living with the old man, I will make sure of that.” Russo shook his head ruefully. “What a temper he had. Just out of nowhere, he’d fly off the handle. After a bottle of whiskey, it was worse.”
“Did he ever say anything about my mother?” I asked. “Or Heather’s?”
“Sure, he mentioned them sometimes. He was a real looker. The ladies loved him. In fact, you two look a lot like him. I take after my mother. She was German. Very tall. And round.” He patted his stomach. “Until the drugs, of course. At the end, she looked like a witch.”
“What did he tell you about our mothers?” I asked again. Keeping him on track was proving to be difficult.
“Well, let’s see.” Russo took a fistful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth, then proceeded to chew for what felt like minutes. “He met your mom, Elliot, at the grocery store. She was crying in the vegetable section and he asked what was wrong and one thing led to another. He left when she got pregnant.”
“What was she crying about?” I asked, more to myself than Russo.
“Doesn’t matter,” Russo said. “Given how everything turned out in the end.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“He was the leaving type,” Russo said. “That’s the way he did, you know. Same thing happened with your mom, Heather. He picked her up in a bar and they spent just one night together. He left town after that.”
