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I clap Alan on the shoulder and nod. “Good job, thank you. Do me a favor and stay in this wing for the rest of the night just in case Mattie needs anything from you, all right?”
“Yes, sir,” Alan answered and went to take up his post.
If Michael had come all the way back from the city in person, he must have found something very useful. This night just keeps getting better and better.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Daniel
Michael is standing with Henry in the entryway when I arrive. Beyond him, I can see just how late it actually is outside. I drove here in such a fog that the time never really registered to me.
Michael and Henry are playfighting, which is amusing given their size differences. Michael appears to be a man poised for violence at any moment, whereas Henry is a carefree youngster. Despite this, they both laugh and make dramatic sound effects with each punch they throw. It's even more amusing to me because I've seen firsthand, more times than I can count, how deadly of a fighter Michael can be. I believe he is more lethal when he does not have a weapon at his disposal.
Henry really couldn’t ask for a better teacher than Michael. My nephew’s brow furrows in concentration as he keeps his hands poised in front of his face. My sister would hate this if she were here. She would complain and protest that there was no reason whatsoever for him to know how to fight. She never would have wanted him anywhere near this life. She should have known that sooner or later it was bound to happen. This isn’t the sort of life you escape from. She should have known that better than just about anybody.
At the very least, there's nothing wrong with him learning how to defend himself. The rest will take a few years. And all I have to do now is honor my sister's memory.
At first, they don't notice me. So I let them finish their first round of shadow boxing before clearing my throat. Henry's fists immediately drop, and his shoulders follow. I half expect Michael to cuff the kid on the shoulder for letting down his guard in such a way. When he doesn't, I almost want to mock Michael for being too gentle with him.
“Aw, man…” Henry groans loudly. He knows that I’m about to send him up to bed. “Can’t I just stay up and box a little bit longer? It’s been like…foreversince I saw Uncle Michael!”
He knows that Michael’s not really his uncle. But other than myself, he is the only one in this world that I would trust to take care of Henry, so it’s a fitting title nonetheless.
“Not tonight, kid. Your Uncle Michael and I have business to attend to,” I say as I slide my hands into my pockets.
“But it’s the weekend!” Henry protests once more. “And you’realwaysdoing business stuff!”
“I get that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are already up later than you’re supposed to be. Isn’t that right, Henry?”
Henry grumbles something under his breath as he slogs toward the stairs. He glances over his shoulder to make sure that I heard his mumbling and then quickly reconsiders his stance on bedtime when he sees the displeased look on my face.
“I have an idea!” Henry interjects. He looks like he’s just discovered how to make fire. “How about I stay up andhelpyou with your business stuff? I’m real smart. I can help. Bet I’ll even be real good at it! Whatcha’ say?” He wags his finger about as he makes his case.
Something about the casual way he’s volunteering himself up makes my stomach churn. He doesn’t have any idea what he’s volunteering for, and it won’t stay that way for much longer.
“In due time,” I answer tightly.
“What’s that mean?” Henry yawns, betraying himself. “Oh… it meansno, doesn’t it?”
“That it does,” I answer and point up to the top of the stairs. “There will be plenty of time for helping with business things when you’re older. It’s not something that you need to go rushing yourself into. Just be a kid.”
“But kids have bedtimes,” Henry protests.
I don’t even have a good rebuttal for that. I just nod my head in the direction of his room. He sighs dejectedly and turns. His feet thump up each and every step like his slippers are leaden and filled with concrete.
It’s a strange sight—wanting to run away and join the mafia just so that you don’t have a bedtime anymore. But he doesn’t know that’s what he’s asking.
He gets to live a different childhood than I did. I had au pairs and nannies on occasion, but I mostly raised myself. I never had to worry about bedtimes or schools because I could take tutoring and private classes whenever I wanted. At Henry's age, I had to deal with more adult issues than any child should have to. It gives me a strange sense of accomplishment that Henry is given the opportunity to have a normal, sort of, life for now.
I learned to fight because I had to in order to survive, not as a method of bonding with the male figures in my life. It was the bare minimum of what my father expected from me. He demanded perfection and helped me achieve absolutely none of it. The man that I am today, I built from nothing.
Neither Michael nor I move until we are certain that Henry is in his bathroom getting ready for bed. Michael follows me as I nod my head toward the backyard. Onceoutside, the lights turn on, illuminating a large pool and meticulously manicured lawns. Floweredbushes decorate the space, and hidden lighting illuminatesit with a soft, yellow glow. A small greenhouse can be seen in the distance. It's where Henry wanted us to plant the small vegetable garden. He started gardening with his mother and isn't ready to give it up just yet.
I cross to the outdoor bar and step out of my shoes as I start making an Old Fashioned. I like the ritual of it. I like going through the motions of making something so elaborate to help clear my mind. If nothing else, I need it tonight in order to keep from letting my mind drift off in the direction of the hidden guest house… where Helena is likely doing everything in her power to break out of her room.
Miachael lowers himself into one of the poolside lounge chairs with all of the grace of a man whose joints were aging prematurely from constant fighting. Not that I have much room to talk. I hand him a glass, and he takes the drink happily and toasts it to me in the air.
“To good jobs swiftly done, eh, boss?”
