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There was a strange faraway look in his eyes but he headed for the assigned two golf carts, his clubs and mine positioned in one, Marcus’ in another. Our father never drove. Not a vehicle. Not a golf cart. I honestly wasn’t entirely certain he could drive. I’d never seen him behind the wheel where I’d been driving since I was fourteen, stealing one of the ten or so vehicles my father kept like status symbols.
I jumped in the cart, trying to keep from saying anything to him. He was set in his old ways, half Italian and half Ukrainian, although he’d purposely kept his children from the old traditions on either side of the family. But he’d had the brutality of his Russian heritage and the love of family he’d learned from his Italian mother.
Whereas I’d only accepted the genes for becoming a savage.
The thought brought a moment of irony today and I wasn’t certain why.
As I drove the cart, I sensed he was more reflective than normal. I wasn’t in the mood to play twenty questions, which was likely what he was hoping I’d do. Once at the hole, we all piled out, my father studying the rolling bright green swells of the golf course as if he’d never played here before.
Which couldn’t be further from the truth.
He took his time selecting his club of choice, even testing the wind with a few blades of grass. The pomp and circumstance I could do without. At least we were only playing nine rounds given the time limitation.
My mother would skin him alive.
The thought brought a strange smile to my face.
I barely paid attention as he took the shot, my brother following behind. I was too busy scanning the area. I’d recently learned my father wasn’t as secretive about his meetings or his golfing afternoons, information readily available online.
It was a conversation I had planned on having with him today. I’d wait, but not for long. There’d been two breaches of security that couldn’t be tolerated. In fact, I had some ‘business’ to deal with after leaving the game and prior to his party tonight.
The fucker would learn that crossing our family was a losing proposition.
“Your turn, son.” Pops patted me on the shoulder, squeezing until I glanced down at his tired face. “Remember that family is very important. That’s something to keep in your mind at all times. Family should always be first. Always. Money, power, and all the toys a man can buy mean nothing if you don’t have someone special by your side. It’s something I should have taught you years ago. I feel like I failed you, son. That needs to change.”
“You didn’t fail anything with me, Pops. I use my skills every day, just like you taught me.”
“I taught you to become a killer, Kendrick. A monster. That’s not what fathers do. At least they shouldn’t. I should have encouraged you to follow your dreams instead of punishing you for not following my rules. Ridiculous.”
“What dreams did I have, Pops?”
“I’ll show you one day, son. When the time is right. When you’ll be receptive to hearing what I have to say.”
I could sense Marcus studying me, as if he’d already been through the same shit.
“Why are you telling me this, Pops?”
He glanced up at the sky, adjusting his sunglasses. “Because it’s something I learned too late. I don’t want you to face retirement if you’re so lucky without having someone special by your side. There is nothing better than falling in love.”
Snorting, I tested my club, uncertain what he wanted me to say. “Yeah, Dad. I’ll keep that in mind.” He backed away, allowing me to move closer to the tee-off.
I placed the ball then sighed, a strange series of feelings settling into a part of my brain I didn’t like. Our father was dying. I was certain of it.
As I turned my head, I couldn’t read his face given his dark sunglasses and the angle of the bright sun, but I knew in my gut I was right.
Fuck. He was trying to make amends before the devil’s minions made good on what Pops had said was a promise to drag him to hell.
I’d heard that as a child more than once.
Just before I was able to take the shot, a glint from the other direction caught my eye. My instincts were never wrong. Yet as everything shifted into an ugly moment of slow motion, I swung the club to the side, yanking my weapon as I yelled to my father and brother. Every sound was muffled, the blur of tree limbs swinging in the light breeze destroying any opportunity to lock onto what I thought I was seeing.
Then shots rang out, six in a row.
“No!” I threw myself backward, tackling my father to the ground. Then I crawled toward Marcus, barely able to process seeing his bullet-ridden body as he was pitched through the air to the ground.
There was no time to waste. I shifted to my knees, firing off indiscriminately but at the distance, I couldn’t be certain I’d hit a single target.
When I turned around, I noticed my father’s lifeless eyes and my brother struggling to breathe.
