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“Deal with your father?” Max gives a troubled frown. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean I’m done wondering and worrying. I want him to understand who I am. And…I’d really appreciate your support, Max. If you’re prepared to give it.”
“Prepared to give it?” he repeats roughly. “Don’t you know by now, Bricker, that I’ve always got your back?” He gives a lopsided smile, and I reach out to take his hand.
“Yeah,” I tell him sincerely. “I know you do.”
It’s just that what I’m about to ask him to do will be—I’m sure—one of the toughest things he’s ever done.
CHAPTER50
MAX
A few days later,we pull into the prison parking lot, but Bricker keeps the car running as we stare silently ahead at the blank concrete facade.
Just laying eyes on this place makes my palms sweat. Too many memories inside those walls. I haven’t been back since the day I walked out its gate, and I don’t relish the idea of walking back in—even as a free man.
But some demons need facing before they can be put to rest, and Bricker wants me here. So here I am.
Bricker kills the engine and turns to me, expression wavering between uncertainty and hope. “So…” he says at last, “you’re sure you’re okay about this?”
Normal rules would prohibit me, as a former inmate, from strolling back in to visit old friends. But one quick call from Anna-Vittoria to an influential friend means that I’ll be waved in…should I choose to go in.
And more importantly, should Fabi choose to see me.
I turn to face Bricker. “If you want me there, I’m there. But you need to prepare yourself, if Fabi refuses to see me.” Bricker picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “Considering our history and all.”
He just nods.
I reach over to still his nervous hands with my own. “All I’m saying is, don’t expect a warm reunion.”
Bricker huffs a mirthless laugh. “With him? Not goddamn likely.” He meets my gaze and I see pain in his eyes. “I do want you there with me. I need to close this off. And I think you do, too.” Well, he’s not wrong there. “We’ll try it out, see if Dad’ll play along. The worst he can do is say no.” Bricker’s bravado doesn’t quite mask the tightness around his eyes.
I just nod. “Then let’s do this.”
Inside, there’s a fresh coat of paint, but that’s about the only change. It’s not even visiting hours, but they don’t look surprised at our request to see a prisoner. The guards hold us while they check with him, and I expect any second to be turned away. But after fifteen minutes of nervous waiting, we’re both waved through to the visitation room.
The utter familiarity of the place makes me catch my breath. Still the same shitty old plastic tables, bolted to the floor. Chairs have changed—more likely to break over the years, I suppose.
And the guards are still the looming presence I remember from my time here.
We approach our designated station, but I’m so busy looking around that it takes me a second to even recognize Fabi, and when I do, it’s a shock. He’s sitting there waiting for us already, and he’s older and grayer—like me—but still with that same flinty gaze.
It locks onto me now, and all I see is unconcealed loathing.
“Can’t believe you were actually dumb enough to show up here,” Fabi growls as a greeting. “What in the fuck are you thinking, Pedretti?”
Bricker speaks before I can. “Iasked Max to come with me, Dad. And—hi, by the way.”
Fabi doesn’t return the greeting, and I keep my mouth shut. Nothing I say is going to be taken well, that much is obvious. Bricker and I take our seats and a tense silence descends on the table.
Bricker clears his throat. “I’m...glad you let Max and me both come in,” he says haltingly. “There are some things I want to let you know.”
Fabi merely grunts, but Bricker forges ahead. “I know that last job you did was supposed to go different. But I can’t figure out how things went so wrong. How it ended with you in here.”
Fabi’s lip curls derisively. “You wanna know who’s to blame for landing me in this shithole? Ask your buddy there.”
My hackles rise at the contempt in his tone, the contempt not just for me but for Bricker, as well. But I force myself to remain silent. This isn’t about me. It’s about Bricker.
