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Reaching for my phone again, I texted once more. Let’s see just how far her silent treatment would go.
“I need you to kill Wyatt’s girlfriend.”
No reply…so only time would tell.
Ethan - AGE 28
Boston, Massachusetts
Thursday, September 7th
“Your brother is in there and he looks like shit,” Ivy said as I tried to head into the living room.
“And?”
She looked at me as if she wanted to kick me.
“And he obviously came because he wanted to talk—”
“I doubt it.” I stepped around her. He was most likely here because Calliope killed his girlfriend.
Ivy stepped in front me, blocking my path. “If you don’t open that door, I swear, no sex, no alcohol, no kettle corn.”
“Is that code for something?” I asked because I sure as hell could not give a damn. I didn’t care about sex with her; not only did I have to force myself, it was boring and dull. The alcohol was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind and the kettle corn reminded me of Calliope.
“Go—” She stopped when Wyatt walked in holding a bottle of scotch, my goddamn scotch, which the little shit was drinking from with one hand and holding my bag of kettle corn in the other. Ignoring us both, he walked into the living room, slipped out of his scrub top, and sat his selfish little ass on the couch comfortably. Reaching for the remote, he switched to, of course, The Godfather. He just watched the movie, eating and drinking quietly.
“I think he’s broken,” Ivy whispered to me and I did my best to not roll my eyes.
“He’s hiding,” I corrected, moving to the living room, pushing Wyatt off the damn couch and on to the floor so I could lay down. I wasn’t going to say a damn word, though I was interested in how the hell Calliope managed it, seeing as she wouldn’t fucking reply to me.
I watched the shooting of McCluskey and Sollozzo when all of sudden the television turned off and we turned looked to her. She didn’t know this, but you don’t turn the fucking TV off when The Godfather was on.
Ivy spoke to Wyatt. “Wyatt, your brother and I were about to talk about something important until your Gollum ass came over. So unless you have a good reason to be here, I’m going to ask you to leave—”
“My girlfriend died today,” he said blankly, staring at her. I kept myself emotionless or else I would grin. “Some high lunatic stabbed her. I tried to help her. He slashed my arm. I wanted to blame Ethan. But what was I going to say? Why did you stop supplying drugs to the city? It sounded senseless even to me.”
A high lunatic? How did she do it? The odds of just any crazed man finding his girlfriend were slim to none. It was Calliope, I was sure of it. She never failed to impress me. She really was an assassin. No one would ever think it was purposeful.
Ivy looked to me and she actually looked pained. She really was unfit to be in this family.
“Wyatt, I’m so sorry—”
“I need a place to stay for a few hours,” he informed her. I could tell he didn’t give a shit about the woman. He was more pissed off about the movie. He held his hand up for the remote.
“Why not your own place?” I asked when she handed the remote back to him.
“Because people would come to check up on me. That’s what happens when people like you,” the little shit said, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. “Anyway, I really don’t have the energy to pretend to be sad in front of them, thanks to the crazy shifts I’ve been pulling.”
That was not the answer I wanted, nor did I believe it. If he didn’t want to see anyone, he would have locked the damn door.
He misses this. His pride just wouldn’t let him admit it. He explained himself to her and it was shameful that she couldn’t see the truth on her own. It was people like her that frustrated me; I didn’t understand how they couldn’t see the obvious. Wyatt and Dona could, but the problem was they were always a few steps behind. But, they are much smarter than those like the disgrace pretending to be my wife. “And if we must cry, we cry for family.”
“And if we must cry, we cry for family,” I repeated. Our father had drilled it into our minds.
Ivy came over to lay on my chest and I wanted to toss her off.
“When are you going to kill the Finnegan brothers and get out of my city?” Wyatt asked and that was amusing. He was ready. He wanted to come home. Part of me wanted to make him beg, make him say it with his own mouth. But I didn’t have that type of time.
