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“Does Mom know?” I ask as I pull a bottle of vodka out of the freezer, pouring it directly into a glass and shooting it back with a wince.
My father ignores my question, staring at me with a blank expression.
“Does she know you fuck twenty-year-olds every night?”
“Are you done?” he mumbles, looking bored.
“Get the fuck out.” I toss back another shot as my eyes narrow at him.
“The reason I came here is to make it perfectly fucking clear that you will come to Sunday dinner tomorrow, and you won’t utter a word of this to anyone, Adam. Not your mother, brothers, or anyone at the church.”
“Or what?” I reply with a scoff.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s something calculating and cold in the look on his face.
Suddenly everything I debated on my walk becomes crystal clear. About how good of a man I am if I’m truly like him, and for the first time, I realize—if he’s a good man, then I want nothing to do with that.
It feels as if my shackles are released.
I can be asbadas I want.
“Son,” he starts with a sigh. “I don’t want to see you hurt or struggling. But if you try to ruin everything I’ve built, I’ll have no choice. If word gets out, the ones you’ll really be hurting are them. Your family. Our congregation. So from now on, you’ll come to family dinners and events for the church, but you’ll never speak another word about this.”
My teeth are clenched so tight my jaw aches. Ihatehim.
I want to punch him again, but I can’t. Sage was right. He’s too powerful, and I believe him. If I try to mess with his place at the church with rumors, he has enough power to make my life hell. I know he’d do it.
So without another word, I waltz straight to the front door and pull it open. Then I stare at him with my chin up. “You’ve said what you wanted to say. Now get out.”
“Do we have a deal, son?” he replies without moving.
Looking at the floor, my jaw clenches again. “Yes,” I say, seething with hatred. “I won’t tell anyone about the club or about who you really are. But that’s it. You and I are done.”
“The apple didn’t fall as far as you think it did, son. We do our job, and we help the people. Stop worrying about everything else.”
He presses his lips into a tight smile as he walks confidently out of my apartment.
I don’t wait until he’s in the elevator before I slam the door closed. My mind is racing and my blood is pumping, boiling with my hatred for him, and I’m far too restless to let it rest now.
So I pace my apartment for fifteen minutes, waiting until I’m sure he’s gone before I snatch my keys from the counter and bolt out the door.
I’m too hyped up to walk and too buzzed to drive, so I order myself a quick ride before I reach the street level. Then I pace anxiously as I wait for it to pull up. Within about five minutes, it’s there and I climb in.
The entire conversation replays in my head the entire way over. This new energy surges through me, and the ideas that burn in my mind feel like gasoline on the flame.
As the driver pulls up to the Laundromat, I shoot him a quickthanksand bolt from the car. A bell above the door chimes as I pull it open and enter the Laundromat. It smells like fabric softener and incense, and there’s a thin, gray-haired woman standing behind the counter, her eyes glued to the TV hanging from the wall.
I meander my way to the back, where the heavy black door is that leads to Sage’s apartment. I nearly make it all the way before she stops me.
“I hope you’re nicer than the last one.”
Turning back to the woman, my face pinches in confusion as I send her a curt wave. When she doesn’t say anything else, I shake off the strange encounter and enter the stairwell, bounding up the steps until I’m standing in front of her apartment door.
I rap on the wood, and Roscoe starts barking immediately.
“Would you just chill out?” she snaps at him before pulling open the door. Then she’s staring at me in shock. “Adam.”
“Fuck it. I’m in.” The words fly out of my mouth without warning because the quicker I say them, the less chance I have of backing out.
