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I sprawl on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
How did my father get in so deep? What was he thinking, running up gambling debts, especially to the extent he did? Did he have no regard for how he was endangering himself? Or his family?
Did he not know there would be consequences to his irresponsibility? And how they might impact his family?
He used to be so… normal. Just a nice dad who drove us to school and helped us with our homework. Who cooked breakfast on weekend mornings to give our mom a break, and who taught us to swim at the public pool.
Then Mother was murdered.
Ten years on, he still hasn’t returned to himself. I know he never will. In fact, he might be even worse now than when it first happened. He’s not capable of much more than opening the store every day, doing whatever business comes his way, and going home to bed. He barely eats, certainly doesn’t cook—that’s left to us—and utters scarcely a word.
For most people, grief softens over time. It doesn’t go away—I know that for a fact. But the broken feeling you have at the beginning loses some of its intensity. You function again. Sort of.
But Pops never came back, not even a little, even when he had a young family to look after.
It’s as if guilt has eaten away at his insides…
I cover my mouth as nausea washes over me and my mouth goes bone-dry.
He…
No…
It can’t be…
Never…
Did… Pops have something to do with Mother’s death? Was her murder not just a random holdup, but some sort of reckoning for something he did?
Oh god. I don’t want it to be true. I’ve lost my mother. I don’t want to lose what little is left of my father. And yet if it’s true, how will I ever forgive him? How do I reconcile my love for him with hate?
Mother always said people have both good and bad in them.
Further, whether he was involved or in her murder or not, will I ever forgive him for getting me in the situationI’min? Hell, it might have been easier if someone had just come in the shop and shot me in the head like they did her. I wouldn’t be going through this shit right now.
If that’s how it all went down. Which seems increasingly likely.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I want it all to go away. Just go away.
Then I think of Evie.
As I’m about to dial her, I hear loud voices outside my room. I tiptoe to the door and listen to the guys’ raised voices.
“I don’t care what thePakhansaid, we can’t let Dimitri bid this weekend.”
“Jesus, Kir, I would have thought the nice blowjob you just got in the car would have you in a better mood. Pour yourself another scotch, man,” Vadik taunts.
Cripes. The room might be bulletproof, but it’s sure not soundproof. At least not when grown men are using raised voices.
“Fuck off, Vad,” Kir says. “You know he’ll stop at nothing to get her, just to show us he’s in control. That he’sthe man. You know how that prick is.”
“The sooner he’s dead, the better,” Niko adds.
I can’t believe I’m listening to a conversation like this, as if these guys are normal people discussing everyday things like sports… or the weather.
But instead talk about killing people.
“I say we defy thePakhan. Deal with the consequences later. I don’t want Dimitri here, and I don’t want his hands on Charleigh,” Kir says.
