“Oh yeah?” He gives me a weary look. “How generous. Let me guess, she’s cute? Single?”
Yes and probably, but what I say is, “She’s none of your damn business.” I take the list from him and tuck it into my back pocket.
“Actually, she might be.” Sandro scratches his brow. “Look, I’d hate to tell you how to live your life.”
“Then don’t.”
“I wouldn’t if I didn’t think your behavior might be affecting our business. You know, the one we’ve worked our asses off to turn around in record time? The one that’s finally getting some good traction?”
“Traction. Isn’t that the title of one of the business books I saw you reading last week? Learned a new word, kid?”
He frowns.
Fuck. I’m being an asshole.
Sandro works hard. Really fucking hard. I’ve lost count of how many business and construction books he’s inhaled since we arrived here, and that’s on top of working twelve-hour days.
He’s earned my respect over the last few months, no doubt about that. The fact that I'm the only reason he’s here is something that bothers me more than it seems to bother him. I feel like I owe him, which is why I push my irritation down. “Sorry. All right. What are we talking about?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Your body count. Do you know Abigail is married?”
Oh,that. “I knownow. I didn’t when…” I rub the back of my neck.
Sandro puts his hands on his hips. “When you fucked her?”
What happened with Abigail was sloppy, I’m not above admitting that. I was drinking that night at Hawk’s, a bar not far from here. She sidled up onto the stool next to me, I offered to buy her a drink, and the next thing I knew, we were in the bathroom, and my dick was inside her.
“I didn’t know her name until that night, let alone know she was married.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Her husband appears to have found out, along with a good portion of the town. This is a small place. People talk. And your personal reputation is tied to the reputation of our business whether you like it or not.”
A hint of unease prickles inside my chest. “You think this Abigail thing is going to affect us?”
“I think we’re going to start losing contracts, because most smart men won’t want a guy like you buzzing around their wives.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I'd known. I don’t make a habit of going after other men’s women.”
“I don’t think anyone is interested in hearing you explain your nuanced code of ethics,” Sandro snipes. “Just go easy for a while, okay? Focus on the work.”
My temper flares. “Since when did you become my boss?”
Sandro gives me a don’t-give-me-that-shit look. “We’re partners. And partners watch out for one another.” He blows out a heavy breath. “Look, are you okay?” He gestures vaguely at the living room. “Is this a cry for help?”
I swipe my knuckle against my nose. “I’m fine.” The word “fine” tastes distinctly like a lie.
The dreams have gotten bad the past few weeks. I’m always in a cage in the center of a cold, dark room, hands bound and ankles chained. Things are happening outside the room, a gunfight and scuffles, but I’m isolated from them. I'm useless. Helpless.
Sometimes, the dreams turn absurd. I’m a lion with no claws. I’m an eagle with no eyes. I’m a snake without a tongue.
The symbolism isn’t lost on me.
In the dreams, my stepdad walks around the cage, studying and judging. He’s silent, but I can guess what he’s thinking.
You are not built for this. Men like you can only be happy doing one thing.
Sandro sighs. “I don’t know, man. You’re different than you were before.”
“Of course I’m different. I have to be, don’t I? I’m a fucking civilian now.”Just like my useless, piece-of-shit father.
