Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Age 14, in the United States
Betrayal lay so thick on my tongue, it tasted like curdled milk. Rook was hot on my trail, and so close, I could practically feel his breath on my neck.
"Your dad wants you to take me out on a helicopter ride?" Rook didn't hide the disbelief in his tone.
"Yeah." I nodded, glancing away as we entered his living room. The couch, old and worn, had orange flowers on it. Sixties style. "Well, I practically had to beg him, but he said yes." My heart was pounding loudly, grateful that the smile I'd plastered on was well practiced.
"But," he tilted his head, his face still too innocent looking for a fourteen year old in this harsh world, "I thought he didn't want you hanging out with me anymore."
"Well. It is your birthday tomorrow."
"Still..."
"I don't know." I shoved my hands in my pockets, staring past the aged sofa and into the kitchen, the edges of the yellowed linoleum flooring curling upward, and shrugged. "He said it was okay, for your birthday." I didn't elaborate. My father hadn't said it, he'd commanded it.
There was a small hesitation. Enough to make my stomach churn––I hated lying like this to him––but Rook's suspicion was replaced with a crooked smile. "I'll go ask!"
As he raced down the hallway in his small home, I shifted uncomfortably.
Rook had had a hard life growing up, a fact that added poison to the acid lining my stomach for what I was about to do. For what my family was about to do.
His nana took him in when Rook found his mom dead in her own vomit, lying face down on their living room couch. The needle by her side had given a clue to the cause.
His nana was sweet and kind, and even when Rook raged and rebelled, her patience had eventually broken through to him. Rook was probably the nicest person I'd ever met, a lot better than my father's friends’ kids, and I liked hanging out with him.
As I wandered into his kitchen, rummaging through his cabinets, there was the hacking cough of his Nana, then the painstaking drag in of a breath.
Two boxes of crackers, a large jar of peanut butter, five cans of tuna fish and two boxes of Ramen noodles.
In the fridge: a quart of milk and a jar of mayonnaise.
"She said yes!" His words reached me a second before his face appeared around the doorway. Then he jumped into the room, with a full grin and a bundle of energy to match it.
It took effort to keep my own face neutral. Despite everything, somehow he'd kept a hopeful optimism about the world, and it made my job today so easy, like guiding an innocent sheep to the slaughter.
“Let's go, then." After texting my driver, I shoved my phone in my pocket and every step towards the door was heavy, like my feet were encased in concrete blocks. It reminded me of when my father threw Deacon Wheelhouse into our pool.
I paused when my hand gripped the rusted brass doorknob to the front door.
A quart of milk and a jar of mayonnaise.
Peanut butter and crackers.
Tuna and Ramen noodles.
Rook was so close to me, his naive bundle of excitement practically made him crash into my back. "Whoops!" He caught himself just in time.
I couldn't do this.
I wouldn't.
I'd never defied my father before, not like this, but this was going to change everything for Rook.
He didn't deserve it, and neither did his nana. She actually cared about him. I needed more time.
"Tell your nana we'll be home in about three hours."
"She won't notice––she trusts you."
A punch to the gut. "Go say bye to her, then," I growled out, "for fucks sake."
He turned, bolting towards his grandma's room and my phone beeped again, my driver responding, but I didn't take it out. Bernard could fucking wait.
A quart of milk and a jar of mayonnaise. Guilt thrum, thrum, thrumming through me.
I ground my molars when my phone buzzed again, grumbling to myself. “Shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up, or I'm going to kill you myself." I pulled it out, my heart pounding at the image of Tatiana, older than the last time I'd seen her, adrenaline flooding my system. I could only stare at it for a long moment, rage boiling, scorching, burning.
The message was clear.
My driver was also my enforcer, making sure I would do exactly what my father wanted.
"What's wrong?" Rook was back, a soft smile on his face.
"Nothing. Let's go." Goddamn, I was so selfish.
I walked down the short walkway, ignoring the stern look from my driver.
When we reached the door to the car, I stilled, and this time Rook rammed straight into me. I lightly shoved him back, grumbling, "Come on, man."
"What?" he said, confused.
"I'm waiting for the driver to open the door."
Bernard stared daggers at me.
"Isn't that your job?" I sneered, and his nostrils flared but he stepped forward, reaching past us to open the door to the sleek, black sedan.
I stepped aside to let Rook in, who practically tumbled into the car. Once he was settled, I stepped closer to Bernard. "You may think that my father is your boss, but the truth is, everything my father owns comes from my mother's legacy. And every single cent of that goes to me if she dies, not my father . If you want to continue to earn your paycheck, you'll remember that." Putting the driver in his place wouldn't stop my father, but Bernard needed to know that I answered to my father alone, and not him. "You know that most men in the family don't live to be old and decrepit. If you ever threaten me again, you will join them. Is that clear?"
“Yes sir,” he nodded, his eyes wide and his pulse hammering in his neck. I wanted to wrap my fingers around it and squeeze.
I loosened my fists, trying to calm down before joining Rook. It was essential that he didn't suspect a thing before the deed was done. For his sake.
* * *
After the helicopter ride, I took Rook to an ice cream shop, even though I was certain we'd taken enough time to satisfy my father.
Rook asked for vanilla, but I insisted on a banana split with extra cherries. I made them scrounge up a candle and sing happy birthday.
I wanted him to have a real treat, something I knew would make him really happy.
Extra cherries was his favorite.
He ate the whole thing in three minutes in between babbling about how exciting it was to see the city from above.
I swear he was still a kid sometimes.
Well, he was about to grow up fast.
I ate my plain chocolate slowly, so slowly it was more like slurping soup by the time I was finished. Rook didn't say anything about it, but shook his leg impatiently. "Hey, do you still talk to Tatiana?"
I suddenly stopped, giving him a dark look. "Why?"
"I don't know." He shrugged. "It's been a while since you said anything about her."
I didn't like talking about her. She'd become something so important to me, that our relationship had become a curse. Even though I trusted Rook, I couldn't let anyone else know how much I cared for her.
"She's fine," I bit out, quickly changing the subject. "What about you and Crystal?"
"I said hi to her the other day." He blew out a breath miserably. "I don't think she heard me."
"She's an idiot. I don't know why you like her."
"She's not an idiot."
"She's a spoiled trust fund kid, who doesn't give a shit about anyone except herself." I was describing practically everyone at our private school but Crystal was no exception, except that she'd flirted with Rook one day when she was trying to make her boyfriend jealous. Rook had been instantly smitten, drawn in by the rare attention.
"Is not," he mumbled, staring at the silver table between us.
"You should go for Loren, she's sweet."
"She's also in love with you."
I stood up, done with this conversation. "They're all idiots. Let's go."
He jumped to his feet. "Maybe we can play a game of chess before you have to go home."
"Maybe." The word was sour in my mouth.
I took my time to walk to the trash, throwing away my cup and napkin. He was out before me, rushing to climb into the car, not even waiting for Bernard to open the door.
But Bernard dutifully stood by the door, holding it open for me as he gave me a meaningful look before shutting it behind me.
I watched Rook's knee bounce, bounce, bounce as we drove, chatting about a new chess strategy he'd learned off the internet. After ten minutes, his eyebrows furrowed. "Where're we going?"
"I have to pick up something for my dad first."
"Can't you do that later?”
I shook my head. "No."
"But--" he started to argue but then he clamped his lips shut, biting down on his protest. He stared at me for a long moment before finally speaking again. "Does your dad really know you're hanging out with me?"
"Yes."
"Are you lying?"
"No." I couldn't look him in the eyes. "He said it was okay, this one last time."
Rook's face whitened. "One last time?"
I didn't answer, staring out the window, watching the houses get smaller and smaller as we drove to the seedier part of town.
"Knight." Rook was insistent. "What do you mean? This one last time."
"I mean, my dad bought a new house. We're moving."
“To where?"
"Just away, okay? Does it matter?"
"It matters to me. Can we still talk in school?"
"We won't be going to the same school anymore." Thank God. I wouldn't have to look him in the eyes after today.
"Oh."
The car was silent for a long moment, then finally, his voice small, "Is that why your dad said it was okay to see me?"
"Yes." My throat burned. The deception wasn't my first, nor would it be my last. My world was riddled with them and, one day, I would drown in them.
Rook stared at the floor, growing quiet, and more guilt flooded my system.
Rook was a scholarship kid, and because of that, an outcast. I was the only person who didn't care about how much money was in his bank account.
His tuition was paid for by generous committee members, otherwise known as the pompous men who liked to pretend they gave a shit about the community, when really, they were looking to funnel their dirty money through the system.
I knew this because I was one of those people. I'd arranged abuelo's money to continue to pay for Rook's scholarship when his sponsor backed out.
Just like those men, my corruption knew no bounds.
I did it for selfish reasons––I liked Rook.
But I was his only friend and my absence would be felt.
Everything in his life was about to change and I was too goddamned rotten to do anything about it.
The car ride was silent until we pulled up to the old liquor store.
"Wait here." I stepped out, my heart squeezing in my chest as I checked my surroundings.
It should be safe here but you never knew.
I went inside and, instead of going straight to the counter, browsed through the shelves, finally picking out Old Forester whiskey.
The man at the counter didn't blink at my age, just took the bottle and shoved it into the brown paper bag, not ringing it up. Then he grabbed another brown paper bag out from under the counter and passed it over.
"For fuck’s sake," I growled, not taking it.
He gave me a dull look, his eyes dead. "They're clean."
"Show me."
“You serious?" He puffed, showing off his missing tooth.
"As a heart attack."
When I didn't crack a smile, he grabbed the bag, and pulled out two unregistered guns, showing me where the serial numbers had been filed off. "You satisfied?"
"Like a rich man on skid row," I said, taking the bag in one hand and my whiskey in another, the glass door slamming behind me as I left.
Rook's face peered at me nervously as I got into the car, his eyes immediately latching onto the two brown bags. He looked away quickly.
I tucked the bag with the guns under my seat, then pulled out the whiskey. "It's okay. You can look."
He eyed it warily. "They let you buy that in there?"
"Of course," I scoffed, then twisted the lid open. I offered him the first sip. "Want some?"
He stared at it for a moment. "You first."
I shrugged. "Just trying to be nice." I took a gulp, then promptly spit it out, spraying it all over his face. God, my throat burned.
"Sorry." I yanked out of my t-shirt, chuckling at the way Rook's mouth had dropped open in surprise.
He grabbed the shirt from my outstretched hand. "Idiot," he grinned, wiping his face, "but it's okay."
Fuck, I didn't deserve a friend like him.
I passed the bottle over to him. "Here, drink some."
He hesitatingly took it, palming it nervously.
I knew he wasn't afraid to drink liquor: his mother had put it in his bottle to get him to calm down when he was a baby. I didn't know why he was hesitating now.
"I don't know," he held it to his chest. "I told Nana I wouldn't drink anymore."
Not only had his mother been an addict but she was also a drunk.
"It's okay, just this one time." He was going to need it. I grabbed the bottle and pressed it to his mouth. "Your nana won't find out."
His lips parted and I tilted it until he'd had a generous sip. I was so goddamn awful, practically pouring it down his throat like this.
We passed it back and forth until my worries slowly ebbed out. It was done, and there was nothing I could do about it now.
Rook began to talk again, obsessed with his new chess move, and I tuned him out, encouraging him to drink with me.
By the time we pulled up to the house, he was loose and confident again, swaggering as he walked up to the front door.
I stepped out, stopping to stare at him, my anxiety suddenly slamming back into me with full force.
I didn't want to go up there, I didn't want to go up there, I didn't want to go.
It took me a few moments of fighting with myself.
I could walk away now, and I would never have to face the terrible truth of what I'd done.
Rook paused in the doorway, turning to look at me, a goofy grin on his face. “You coming?"
I couldn't be a coward. Not now, when he would need me the most.
I nodded. "I'm coming."
He waited while I walked up the walkway, my gut churning, acid dripping, self-hatred washing over me. Every step forward was a reminder of who I was. What my family did to others. How they destroyed them for more money and power.
As soon as I was in the doorway, and with the soft light of the waning day lighting up the inside, he ran forward, calling out, "Nana! We're back."
After shutting the door, I followed him into the darkness of the hallway, already closing off my emotions, a method that was getting easier. When I reached the end, he was standing in Nana's doorway, frozen, his mouth open in shock.
"Nana!" He disappeared into the barely lit room, bumping into the table by the front door, making the lamp fall and crash to the floor.
Even in the newfound darkness, I could see her.
Nana's face was pale, her eyes staring up at the ceiling, her mouth open, as if she'd struggled for her very last breath.
She was dead.
Rook collapsed to his knees. Falling to the floor, he bent over, his hands grasping the orange carpet, and threw up.
I could only stare, emotionless, at her sickly thin form. When he was done, I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "I'll take care of you now."