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“I don’t know, but it must be really bad.”
“Extremely bad,” she agreed. “The Leung brothers are as dangerous as the Russians. Maybe even more because they don’t have someone like Nikolai Kalasnikov to control them.” She grimaced. “Did he want money?”
“He didn’t say.” I shuddered just remembering the terrifying way he stared at me as he leaned across the table at the club. He had trailed his finger along my exposed collarbone before touching my face and tracing my mouth. It had been a move intended to intimidate me, and it had worked. “He just made it very clear that it was in our best interest if we found Dad and let them know.”
“If I knew where Burt was, I’d hand him over myself,” she grumbled. “That fucking idiot! Putting drugs in my car?”
“Yeah, but Dad was never into drugs,” I said, not quite understanding how he had gone from alcohol and gambling to moving weight. “He didn’t even smoke pot.”
“No, he didn’t.” Pensive, she leaned against the kitchen counter. “He was careful about keeping his drinking and gambling as secret as possible. The only time he had a brush with the law was the time Mrs. Pena called the police when she heard him taking a belt to you.”
That was a memory I didn’t want to dredge up ever again. It had been the last time he had beaten me with a belt, but not the last time he had put his hands on me or Janie. Now, after having CPS all up in our business, it was galling to remember that not a single social worker had followed up with me after that 9-1-1 call. My backside and legs had been black and blue, and he hadn’t even gotten a slap on the wrist. Just a stern talking to from a police officer who told him not to use a belt next time!
“It’s shocking, isn’t it?” I asked, thinking of how many horrible and stupid things my dad had done. “That he was such a drunk and in debt but somehow managed to never get into real trouble.”
“He worked with the police. They all protect their own.”
“Yeah, but he was just a security analyst in some cubicle farm. He wasn’t an actual cop or anything.”
“Knowing your father, he probably had blackmailed someone high-ranking enough to protect him,” she muttered.
“Maybe,” I said, starting to wonder how all these things connected. It seemed as if the answer was somewhere in all the details, but I didn’t know where to start. I imagined putting together a wall like Charlie Kelly trying to solve the mystery of Pepe Silvia. Where would all those crisscrossing strings lead?
Probably somewhere dangerous. To someone dangerous. To someone who wouldn’t think twice about killing me.
Danny.
If anyone could help me untangle this mess, it was him. Even so, my stomach swirled with guilt at the prospect of dragging him deeper into my family’s trouble. Danny was dogged and stubborn, and he wasn’t going to stop once he caught the scent of whoever was trying to hurt us. He would get right into the middle of the trouble.
What if he gets hurt?
What if he gets shot?
What if he dies?
I couldn’t handle the thought. I couldn’t bear to even go there.
“What shift are you working?” Janie asked, drawing my grim thoughts back to the present.
“Eleven to four.” I tried not to let her see how much I wasn’t looking forward to it. Truthfully, I was exhausted, and the thought of being on my feet all night serving burgers and fries to drunks, stoners, and night shift workers wasn’t very appealing.
But we needed the money.
“I’m probably going to try to get a short nap.” I glanced at the hallway. “You take the biggest bedroom. I’ll take one of the smaller ones.”
“You should take it,” she argued. “You’re the reason we have a place to stay.”
“No, you deserve the space. I’m sure you need to decompress after....” I couldn’t bring myself to say jail. “It’s yours.” Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “Do you want me to order something to eat?”
“Do you mind?” The look on her face told me she was hungry.
“I’m starving,” I said, not wanting her to feel guilty about the expense. I placed my backpack on the nearest couch and sat down with my phone. I opened the meal delivery app and scrolled through for something nearby and tasty. I listed the options, and we settled on a nearby Vietnamese café.
After I placed the order, I opened the garage and parked my car inside. Small suitcase in hand, I snatched my backpack from the living room and picked out a bedroom with a twin-size bed and small desk. It would do nicely so I placed my backpack on the bed and made my way to the attached jack-and-jill bathroom.
Desperate to get the pasties off, I peeled out of my shirt and examined the situation in the mirror. The hot pink nipple covers looked ridiculous in the harsh bathroom light, and I cringed at how silly I must have looked up on that stage. All skinny legs and no ass and tiny breasts. Freckles all over the place.
My face grew hot at the memory of Cherry giving me advice on where to get waxed and how to deal with my period so I could dance. I typically used a cup to handle my situation, but Cherry described things like cutting off tampon strings or shoving makeup sponges up into my vagina to block the flow. When I had asked why not just take those days off, Cherry had been very clear that most women needed the money and didn’t have that luxury.
