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I settle further into the cushions. “Did you even know who that man was, Carmen?” I start by asking her a question of my own.
“That doesn’t matter right now.” She looks away as she speaks, like she’s ashamed.
“It does.” When she doesn’t answer, I just let it all out. “Bernard was a partner—so to speak—of our father, and I didn’t know that till today.”
Carter cuts me off. “What does Dad have to do with this?”
I hold up my hand, silencing him. “Pleasers. Does that mean anything to you?”
He exchanges a look with the girl next to him. “It’s where he spent a lot of his time. Why?” The edge to his voice lets me know he knows exactly what it is.
“He’s been going there for years. Before he ever even sent me away.”
He nods. “I know.”
I take in a deep breath. It’s sad that he even knows this. No, not sad. It’s fucked-up. Our childhoods were already shit when Mom died, and now the few good memories he had are probably tainted knowing what Dad was doing and knowing it probably contributed to our mom’s demise.
“Well, he wasn’t just some partygoer there. He was an investor. Bernard owned part of that club because he invested in it too. When Dad died and the cops started looking into his life, they found out a good chunk of his money went directly to Pleasers every month. It even continued after he died until they froze his assets.”
Carmen finally speaks again. “I don’t see what B has to do with this.”
I scoff at the nickname she’s given him. “B was pissed when the money stopped. What he probably didn’t tell you is how he was going bankrupt. Because my father’s money was a steady flow, he thought it would be okay to invest in more companies with money he didn’t have. He was riding my dear ol’ Dad’s pockets for years. Needless to say, when that stopped, he realized he bit off more than he could chew with the companies he invested in.”
“And?” Carter chimes in.
“And he thought forging some documents saying your finances would go to him if you were to die, then hiring someone to kill you”—I point to Carter—“he could get out of the rut he was in.”
Carter laughs. “This sounds like bullshit. Why would any of my money go to him if I was to die?”
“He had a paper trail showing how close he and Dad were. An almost legit paper trail. No lawyer, cop, or judge would question it—it was that good. And no one would question the remaining money of Malcolm’s son going to a close family friend.”
He stares at me a moment like he’s thinking. “And where do you come into this?”
“Yeah. I’d like to know that too,” Carmen adds.
“First, go look in the inside pocket of that briefcase. You’ll see I’m not lying. I refuse to be labeled the same way our dad was.”
“I wasn’t saying that, Cyrus. This whole thing is just fucking bizarre,” Carter tries.
“Go look.”
He looks to the blonde, then stands and walks to the front door, where the briefcase was left abandoned.
“What’s your name?” I ask her, trying to fill the silence with something.
“None of your fucking business,” Carmen answers for her.
The blonde shoots her a look over her shoulder, then turns back to me. “Lydia.”
I tip my head and study her face. “Lydia Walton?” She nods. “Damn. You’ve grown up. And now you’re dating the boy who used to make fun of you and chase you?”
She smiles with a shrug. “He grew on me.”
She seems genuine in her love for my brother, and that makes me happy. In all the years I’ve been gone, that’s all I’ve hoped for. That he could find peace, escape our dad, and find someone to help carry the burden I know he most definitely has from our shit childhood since I couldn’t be here to help.
Carter walks back into the room, flipping through the papers. “Okay. I believe you. Now tell me where you come into this.”
He hands the papers to Carmen once he gets back in front of me.
