Page 329 of Valentino

The police were adamant that I couldn’t touch anything, but I can’t get the vision of it out of my head.

It’s going to stain the linoleum.

Papa loves that linoleum….

I need to go back this morning and clean it up. Get the house back in order and to how he likes it kept. Organize his chickens and his garden…. I can see him so clearly in his checked shirt pulling out the weeds.

That painful lump in my throat is back….

I drag on my cigar, a freezer drawer in a morgue comes to mind and I take a gulp of scotch, slosh it around my mouth to burn the thought away.

I drag my hand through my wild hair.

“Fuck.”

Exhaustion is creeping in, none of us have slept. We were too busy organizing a contingency plan to get the girls out.

A war is coming….

Today we get our families out of the country and to safety, we sleep, we lick our wounds, take care of our injured.

Tomorrow we take our revenge.

I tip my head back, drain my glass and drag myself inside and upstairs to the bathroom. I open the mirror cabinet and look over the white bottles of drugs.

Where are my sleeping tablets? I’m going to knock myself out so fucking hard today.

I have to.

If I want to be on my game tomorrow, I have to sleep today.

It’s been twenty-eight hours since I last closed my eyes and I’m no good to anyone like this.

“There they are.” I scoop them up and walk out into my bedroom in search of my bottle of water.

Ring, ring….

“Hi,” I answer.

“Hey, boss.”

“What’s up?” I sigh as I rub my eyes with the palm of my hand.

“We’re just taking the SUV to fill it up with gas and oil.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Do you need anything while we’re out?”

“No. I’m good.”

“Have you eaten? We can pick you up something. Anything you want.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I sigh. “I’m fine.”

“But….”

I hang up on him midsentence, the very last thing I need right now is to be fucking babied.