AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Instead, I find my brother sitting inside the living room in his favorite leather chair with a glass of what looks to be cognac. His eyes are blue like mine, but a few shades darker. He’s tall where I am short and muscular where I am slim. Our facial features differ, and personalities are like night and day.
Alton stares at me in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable. Makes my skin crawl.
“The diner closed early tonight,” I say, letting the heavy wooden door close behind me. Even the low, muted thud it produces makes my body jump in place. “Bad batch of meat made a few people sick.”
“Are you sure you weren’t fired, Lola?” God, I hate that nickname now. Reminds me of Mom. She gave it to me, but now only he uses it, and each time it hurts. Cuts deep. Alton knows this, I’ve told him as much, yet the glint in his eyes tells me he doesn’t care. He enjoys this sick game; there’s a smirk on his face, a slow licking of his bottom lip before he takes another sip. “I’ll be more than happy to hire you as my—”
“All is fine. I promise.” The lie slips so easily past my lips as I walk deeper into the house. I have no choice. If they find out where I’ll be spending my weekends and how much I’ll be making, things will get worse. They’ll take every dime, and Alton will demand that I serve him too. “I’m back on tomorrow for an overnight shift.”
“Come here.”
“Alton, I’m really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?” Or never. Slowly, I edge closer to the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms. My bedroom.
“I’m not fucking asking you. Come. Here.” The bastard pats his lap, spreading his thighs apart, and I freeze. It’s not the first time he’s tried this, demanded that I get close, but dodging is my specialty and this time my saving grace comes from our father.
“Why the fuck are you home?” He stumbles in, almost falling over the entryway’s carpet. Dad looks unkempt and reeks of alcohol. The cheap kind. His hand snaps out, grabbing onto my arm to stop his fall and bruising me in the process. Fingernails digging in, he rights himself. “If you got fired, then you know the alternative. Get me that money, London.”
Before I can respond, a hand slips around my waist, pulling me back. “Enough, old man. Let’s not upset my little Lola.”
“Of course, son. You’re right…” he digs his fingers in deeper, making me whimper before he lets go “…marking her isn’t going to help me.”
A harsh shudder runs through me as I choke on a sob. Just feeling them close, much less touching me, makes me sick. They know this. Get off on my fear. “Can I please go upstairs now? I’m tired.” Even I can hear the desperation in my tone.
Lips, Alton’s lips, press against my temple as he squeezes me one last time. “Head on up to bed. We’ll finish our—”
He’s cut off by a sudden banging on our front door. Everyone stops, and I don’t miss how fast Dad straightens himself. How he clenches a hand.
“Are we expecting anyone, Alton?”
“Not that I know of,” he says, already pulling out his phone to check the front door camera.
There’re cameras everywhere here. This isn’t a home, more like a jail cell.
Whatever pissing game they are trying to play can end badly.
I’m not an idiot.
I know what they do and how much they owe a powerful family in Miami; a debt they are forcing me to pay while they live their lives in peace. That my brother’s thirst for authority will end bad. His greed will be their downfall.
There’s one lesson everyone, no matter what walk of life you come from, has to learn.
Don’t bite the hand that feeds.
And for people like them, the mob is their God.
“Son of a bitch,” Alton spits out, hands clenching around his phone a second before his eyes flick to mine. There’s something in his stare. A subtle hint of fear. “Get upstairs and don’t come down.”
“Son, what’s going on?”
“It’s Asher’s right hand.”
“At this time?”
“Who?” Dad and I speak in unison, and immediately I wish I kept my mouth shut.
“None of your business. Get the fuck upstairs.” Alton’s pissed, his nostrils flaring while he grabs my arm and pulls me in the direction of the stairs. His hold hurts. He doesn’t care that I trip or that I crash into the banister; he wants me out of sight.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelp, trying to pull out of his hold. “Let me right myself.” And as the last word slips past my lips, a gunshot is heard and a bullet lodges itself in the wall nearest to my brother.
