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Iget a text thenext morning to meet at the office. I’ve been holed up at The Pit all night, watching some random fight between amateurs then hiding out in one up the back rooms all day.
Watching that fight was like watching two birds squawk at each other. It was awkward and boring as hell. I remembered why I never come to The Pit unless Easton is fighting.
The last thing I want to do is go to the office or talk to anyone right now, but Rich is the last person I should ignore. I didn’t want to be a dick to Cara or blow Easton off when he was just trying to be a good friend, but I can’t fake it. I can’t pretend to sit around and play games around chatty Rose or concerned Cara. I don’t want the pity stares or Cara’s caring touch.
I just want to be alone, not having to say a word to anyone or have to act like I’m okay when I’m not.
Because I’m not—okay that is. Not as much sadness that my mom is gone. As far as I’m concerned, she’s been dead since my sister died. She took the cowards way out and killed herself because of her own guilt and grief for being a shitty mom her entire life. My rage—my fucking rage—is towards my dad. He’s a piece of shit who abuses his wife and kids because of some kind of power trip. He puts bruises over my entire face and I’m the one that’s supposed to stand by his side as his son who doesn’t want to gut him where he stands?Fuck that. I’m not okay with him because if he would have doneanythingdifferent in his life, he may have been able to change the course of ours.
But, he is who he is, and that’s the worst motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life.
I stall and pass the time before heading over to the warehouse. I’m not in the mood to be grilled and showing up right away will blow my cover on where I stayed. He’ll know I’ve been hiding, and as much of a little bitch that makes me, I’d rather hide and be content then to do shit I don’t want to do and be miserable.
I’m done being miserable.
It’s time to do what I think is right, and that includes taking what’s rightfully mine.
When I’ve shot the shit for long enough, I slip my shoes on and head next door. I go through the back door and wince when memories of Rose come to mind. It’s like a lightning bolt of bad memories hit me in the back of the head.
Another one of the worst nights of my life.
I speed walk past the hell that this pavement has endured and make my way to the other side of the building.
“Yo, Jackson!” Easton calls out. I stop, looking over my shoulder and see him jogging from his car over to me.
I slide a cigarette out of my pocket, lighting it up as I wait for him.
“What the fuck was that last night?” He asks when he reaches me. We go in for a shake and I know instantly he’s not salty with me.
“Bro…” I shake my head, and he nods his in understanding.
“Trust me, I get it. You do, too. I’m sure Logan’s death hit you harder than your mom’s did.”
I nod.
“Shit sucks, but we just got to keep moving. That’s what you told me, right?”
I nod again. “It’s not even about my mom. I mean, it sucks, but that’s not why I left like I did last night.”
He looks at my yellow-green face. The black and purple color has faded the last few days and turned into this rotting yellow color.
“Your dad do that?” He asks with a tone that suggests he already knows.
I hesitate before answering. He’s seen me shirtless throughout the years, and the bruises and cigarette burns have been impossible to hide, but he’s never questioned it. It’s weird to think about confessing that I’ve been getting abused my entire life.
“Yeah.” I avert my eyes to the ground as I stub my cigarette out with the toe of my shoe.
He bobs his head, zoning off as he thinks. I’m assuming he’s thinking back of all the shit he’s seen throughout the years and connecting the pieces. Randall Shaw is not a good person.
“Well, what now? We going to do somethin’ about it?” I can see a bit of unease fill in his eyes. It’s a tough spot we’re in, which is precisely why I haven’t done anything yet. My dad’s a part of the business. He’s a partner. Not only that, but he kept the roof I have over my head. If that stuff wasn’t important, I would’ve killed him years ago.Father or not.
“His time is coming.” I say, and we both nod. We don’t need to discuss what’s going to happen. My dad will get what’s coming when the time is right.
Walking in, we knock on Rich’s door and Hugo opens it a moment later. Rich is on the phone when we walk in, which only piques my interest.
Rich looks up at us. “They’re here, give me a minute.” He mutes the phone and says, “Good, you’re here. I’ve got Lynx and Aziel on the phone. We have some things to discuss.”
Shit. The Mexicans.
