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Fifteen
Day After
“What the helldo you mean our father isn’t dead?” My brothers and I are standing here, looking at our family lawyer. After a round of hard fists to the stomach, he started squealing.
“Your father staged his own death so that he could escape the country and the backlash of tax evasion and animal cruelty lawsuits.”
John holds him by the neck and shakes the weasel hard. “Where the fuck is he?”
“He had me secure him a fake passport. Once he was in the air, I canceled it. The last I heard, his plane was in Asia. That’s all I know.”
John throws him to the ground and twirls a pen in his left hand as Joey stomps on his leg. “You aren’t done answering questions yet.”
“I…I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he moans out, and I chuckle.
“Oh, we fucking know you will.” I cross my arms, and John picks his head up. “Our mother.”
He pales and struggles to get loose from John’s hold. “Who killed her?”
“She…” Joey takes the pen from John and stabs the pen in his eye. His scream is shrill, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Answer the fucking question.”
“Your father’s security guard, Johan. Then your father killed him. No loose ends. Except Crucinda. She’s been untouchable for years.”
“Goddamn right she has because she’s fucking innocent,” I spew. Thinking about her makes me sick to my stomach. I should have never left her.
“When was the last time you spoke to our father?” My patience is wearing thin. This rat bastard helped cover my father’s sorry ass.
“I haven’t. There’s been no reason to do so.”
“Let him go, John.” I hand him my card and punch him in the nose as John helps him stand up. “The minute you speak to him, you call me. If he even sneezes in your direction, you better tell me.”
“Yes, sir.” The damn bastard bows, and I have the urge to kick him. Instead, I leave with my brothers, and all I can think about is my pebble. She’s been right this whole fucking time.
“Joey, I know you leave on deployment for a year in a few days. What do you say we go kick it back on the beach with some booze and forget all about this shit for now?”
He smiles at me. “Hell yeah! You in John?”
A noncommittal shrug is all we get. Good enough. I need a night out where there’s no violence involved. Or regrets.
* * *
“We’ve been searchingfor six goddamn weeks!” I explode at John, and he growls at me over the phone.
“You think I don’t know that? The sorry son of a bitch is hiding from us, Jason, and we don’t have jurisdiction to go to Bangladesh and commit murder. Hell, we don’t have clearance anywhere for that.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, John. You’re right.” Hell, I’ve been saying that a lot lately.
Pulling the envelope out of the mailbox, I slam the door shut. “Fuck.” The big “return to sender” glares at me mockingly.
“Crucinda, return your letter again?”
Getting into the house, I slam the door shut. “Yes.”
“Well, what did you expect?” John laughs in my ear.
“Watch it, brother,” I warn him, and he laughs harder. Fucker.
