Chapter 21
Michael
After Arya left to do her research on Maria’s computer guy, I knock around the houseboat for a while, restless and not even really knowing why. I should be relaxed and happy. Arya and I are back together, I just had ground-shakingly awesome sex with her, and I finally have someone close in my life who won’t be swayed against me by stupid family rumors.
We spent the night together. It should have left me feeling great. But something she had said before she left is sticking with me, like a burr in my sock that I can’t seem to get rid of.
I had finally admitted I cared about her, and over breakfast, I told her that I was still having trouble figuring out what I would do if it turned out that one of my kin had really betrayed me and the family that way.
She told me I had to figure it out because blind loyalty to someone who hurts you is just inviting yourself to get hurt worse. We have managed to avoid another argument, but now... now, it’s gnawing at me.
I don’t get why this is all so fucking difficult. Am I really as blind in my loyalties as she thinks?
No, no. Loyalty is absolutely important. This is the Mob. Loyalty is the only glue that can really hold a bunch of dangerous, ambitious people together. And even more, this is my own damn family.
She thinks I have a blind spot, but I just don’t see it. My sister acts up, but she wouldn’t betray all of us. If for no other reason than she knows all her special treatment would evaporate, and my father would show her his scary side.
She has to know that’s what will happen. I sure do. There’s no mobster’s son who doesn’t grow up with at least a little fear of his dad’s temper.
Arya doesn’t know us. Her family is rotten and has no honor. She’ll assume all families are the same. Right?
Right?
I have to go home to deal with my family again and face more questions from my father that all amount to the same thing. Yes, I’m still chasing leads on whoever stole the money. No, I don’t have anything worth sharing about it yet.
The tension around my family is killing me. Billy and I retreat to the kitchen for beers and, when that isn’t enough, go out to the gazebo in the backyard.
“This is fucking crazy,” I say. He grunts and nods.
“I don’t know what to tell you, man. I think Maria’s really going around the bend with this sibling rivalry crap. Didn’t we leave this behind in high school?” He looks baffled as he takes a swig of beer.
“We did. She didn’t. And for some reason, she just decided to double down when this whole heist thing happened.” And it is really, really pissing me off.
“She’s seeing an opening to get under your skin, man. That is literally all it is. She is on one of her shit-disturbing binges. You know she’s done this before.” He’s watching me. He seems relieved that I’m keeping my temper. Maybe he expects me not to.
“I do, but this is completely crazy. Is she still going to be doing this at thirty? Forty? We have to put up with Dad’s temper, our uncle’s porn addiction, and a lot of drunken gossip. Her crap is too much.” I rub my face, suddenly craving something a lot stronger than beer.
“Well, for the record, I don’t believe a word of what she’s saying. You’ve never dropped the ball before now, and you’re about the last person in the family who would betray us.”
“That’s good to hear, man.” It is. I’m grateful, but I’m also completely fucking exhausted from all of this. “I think it would bother me a lot less if Mom and Dad didn’t believe every damn word that comes out of her mouth.”
“Just keep working to prove her wrong, then. She’ll crumble in the face of evidence.” He takes another swallow of beer. I wonder how he can keep so calm all the time. I guess he’s just really good at not letting any of our family drama get too far under his skin.
I’d kill for that talent.
“That’s what I plan to do. But it’s hit a snag. The person I’m working with is investigating a couple of possibilities, but... well... one of them is the guy that Maria keeps bringing home.”
“The smelly one who stares at women?” His eyebrows rise. “Oh, this sounds juicy. Do you think he got up to some thievery shenanigans while he was on our property?”
“It makes as much sense as anything. I’m just worried about what else it might... implicate.”
I hesitate as I see curiosity gleam in his eyes. Is it even safe to be talking about this? Someone might overhear, or Billy might spill what I’m saying to someone.
“What do you mean?” His eyebrow is up again, but he’s still drinking. Not too captivated.
“I don’t like the possibility that Maria’s in on it.”
He scoffs. “Maria’s no criminal mastermind, man. She’s got the audacity and the ego but no plan, no brains, and no work ethic.”
“Yeah, I know. Maybe I’m just pissed because she’s stirring people up against me. But...”
“The answer is gonna be whatever it’s gonna be, man. The only things I’m sure of right now is that you didn’t steal that money, and I didn’t steal that money.”
I’m glad for his support, but the answer doesn’t help. The conversation dissolves into catching up. Small talk. I want to tell him about Arya, but I can’t.
Two beers later, I walk into the family room, unlock the bar, grab a good bottle of whiskey and a tumbler I probably don’t need, and go back to my room to try and forget things for a while. It’s cowardly and probably a little self-destructive, and I know it. Right now, though, I really don’t care.
A friend told me once that sometimes, the best you can do is wait and see with people. Watch them, pay attention to what they say, and see how it matches up with what they do.
That’s all I can think of to do in this Maria situation. When we tried to find information about her friend before, we’d found exactly nothing. I figured that was proof that he was innocent and uninvolved. Arya seemed to think it means his Internet record has been scrubbed, meaning he’s even more suspicious.
I’m letting her chase the truth for now. Maybe it’s cowardly, but at least I’m not getting in her way.
Do I really have a blind spot when it comes to my family? Maybe. The thought of that betrayal, beyond every other piece of misery I’ve suffered from my sister, haunts me. I can barely face it.
She’s still my sister. Can she just go and forget that I’m still her brother? How does someone even do that?
“Impossible,” I mumble. Arya has to be wrong. “She’s a little shit, but she’s not a Judas.”
And yet, here I am, dwelling on it, and drinking myself halfway into a stupor before I can stop myself.
I have a good buzz on by the time the conflict and despair finally start to ebb away inside of me. I have some blues playing—Eric Clapton—and I think I might even be able to sit through a family dinner later without getting into any arguments.
Galvanized by the liquor, I emerge from my room in search of snacks, only to hear shouting coming down the hall from my sister’s room.
“What the fuck is this now?” I mutter to myself as I approach her door.
I know it’s a bad idea to get involved, but my mother’s been asking me to keep an eye out when she has guests over—especially the one—and it sounds like she’s arguing with a guest.
I should really leave her to it , I think, even as I’m reaching for the doorknob. If she’s gotten into conflict with one of her friends, it’s her problem . And probably her fault.
I decide to stop and listen and determine what to do after I’ve had an earful of what the issue is. Whatever else happens, Mom can’t say I haven’t done my job as this idiot’s brother.
The first voice I hear is a man’s: “I don’t care what you fucking say, you stupid fool, you promised me ten percent, and I’ve only seen half that. I want my money, and I want it now, or I’ll walk out there and—”
“You will do no such thing.” That’s my sister using a tone I have never heard from her before. Harsh, angry, firm, and years older than I am used to hearing.
I freeze, my heart pounding. What the fuck is going on?
She goes on, her voice like a whipcrack, “If you go out there and start talking to my family about what we have been doing, you will end up dumped off the end of a pier with a bullet in your head. These are mobsters, you idiot!”
He doesn’t seem to get it. “I have done my work for you. I have taken risks for you. I got all of this done, and you could not have done it without me. The agreement was $500,000 dollars. Ten percent. Not five!”
“I understand that, asshole. And if you call me a ‘fool’ again, I’ll call in security and tell them you grabbed my tit.”
I’m breathless. Doing the math confirms it. Ten percent of a $5 million dollar take.
My $5 million dollar take.
My throat closes up, and my gut suddenly clenches around all that alcohol like I’m about to throw it all up against her bedroom door. No , I think. No, no, no .
Arya was right. I was wrong. In the worst way possible.
“You wouldn’t dare,” the whiny-voiced man growls.
“You know what? You’re pissing me off so badly that maybe I’ll just do that anyway and have you thrown out.” Maria’s not throwing a tantrum. She’s standing up to the guy with a cold assertiveness I didn’t even know she was capable of.
His voice rises enough that I could have heard it down the hall. “Maybe I’ll just strangle you in your bedroom so you can’t call out to anyone!”
I go cold, and my hand clenches around the doorknob. Alarm bells are going off in my head. Those are not the words to say to my sister, no matter what in the hell she is up to.
“And what happens when you walk out the door after murdering me, asshole? My family would kill you. Hell, even the idiot brother we took the money from would kill you!” I can hear the urgency and tension behind Maria’s words. She seems to understand that this man is unstable. “Besides, you’ll never get that quarter million if I’m dead.”
That seems to give him pause. I can hear him huffing in anger like a bull in the quiet. I keep my hand on the doorknob. I don’t trust him.
“It would almost be worth it, you’re such a cunt,” he grumbles.
“You know, I can really see now why nobody will hire you,” she claps back. “Now, you want that quarter mil? It will take a few days.”
I take a deep breath. I have my sister and her asshole crony dead to rights. I know in the back of my head that I should be recording this on my phone, taking that recording to my father, and ending this all as neatly as possible.
Instead, the booze wins.
I step back and kick the door right by the lock; the latch gives, and the door swings open. My sister shrieks in shock and anger and gets up from her seat at her computer, where the schlub who has been threatening her is leaning into her personal space.
He straightens, looking at me with a mixture of petulance and fear.
“I heard everything, you miserable, thieving fuckers!” I shout. “Every goddamned thing!”
My sister goes pale as milk, and the schlub starts sweating. “How dare you break in here!” Maria shrieks, but I’m not remotely impressed by her bullshit now.
“You stole $5 million from the family and then tried to make me look bad to cover your own ass!” I jab a finger at her, my voice breaking with anger and disgust.
“You’re drunk, Michael!” she yells back. “Get out of my room!”
Her accomplice is in a panic, shuffling back and forth, looking for a way past me and out of the room, a tiny whine in his breathing as he tries to figure out if he should make a break for it.
I hold my ground, ignoring him. “I came down here because this piece of shit was threatening to strangle you at the top of his lungs. And then, I find this out? What the fuck, Maria? What the hell were you thinking? Why did you do this?”
She stares at me with panic growing on her face, and I know that I have her dead to rights. I’m furious. Righteous anger is thrumming all through me, and as I stare down at her, I know that this time, she absolutely will not get away with it.
“Help!” she starts screaming at the top of her voice. “Help! Help! Michael’s drunk, and he’s gone crazy!”
Oh, hell no .
Right at that moment, her partner tries to bull his way past me, shoulder-checking me hard and grunting as his smelly dad bod thuds into mine. I take advantage, snaking my hand inside his trench coat and finding a thick leather square. I grab it and shove him back, quickly pocketing it. You are not getting away again.
“Stop fucking lying, Maria!” I yell as she continues screaming for help. Everything’s going to hell in a handbasket. I can hear running feet outside.
My head is foggy from all the whiskey, but I know I’m in the right. I’ve just heard the truth with my own two ears, and once I explain it to the rest of the family, I’ll finally be vindicated—
Hands grab me from behind, yanking me out of the room. I hear people yelling in confusion. Then, my father becomes one of them. His men have me by the shoulders and arms. I’m not fighting, only standing there confused as they surround me.
“Michael, what the hell did you do?” My father is in my face now, demanding the truth. I stare at him dizzily for a few beats before my brain kicks in.
He’s here. He’s asking. Good. Saves me time.
“Maria and her asshole hireling here did it, Dad. They stole that money. She has it hidden somewhere. Bitch is so greedy she didn’t even pay the guy his end.”
I’m so confident right now that I’m almost smug. It’s finally over. In 10 minutes, the whole story will be out, with a witness, and—
“Do not call your sister a bitch!” my father yells almost reflexively, shocking me partway sober.
Fuck. He’s not listening. Even now, he’s not listening. He’s too busy defending her.
“Dad, what the hell? I’m telling you, I just caught them talking about it!” The security guys loosen their grip, and I shrug free of them.
Maria is watching from the doorway. Her eyes are terrified, desperate, but not for the reasons that my father seems to think. There’s still something sly in her gaze. Just seeing her face right now makes me want to strangle her. Instead, I focus back on my father.
“Why were you listening at her door?” My father’s eyes are narrow with suspicion.
“Because the batshit insane hacker she hired was threatening to choke her to death at pretty much the top of his lungs. I heard it down the damn hall.”
Everyone’s focus turns to my sister’s accomplice, who seems ready to sink into the floor. “I was just here to get paid for fixing her computer! She said she’d pay me, and she’s been putting me off!” he whines. “Then, this drunk comes bashing through the door because he took our argument out of context—”
“Jesus Christ, you’re both a couple of lying freaks. I can’t even believe this! Where do you get off being like this? To your own family?” I glare at Maria, who stares back at me blankly, her strange absence of response somehow more unnerving than if she’d thrown another tantrum.
“Michael!” My father’s voice is as sharp as a gunshot. “You are drunk. Your judgment is shit right now. You need to back off right now, or I’m going to have to—”
Maria breaks in by bursting into tears. “He broke my door, Dad! He was threatening me!”
My father stiffens and glares at me. And that’s when I know.
The truth doesn’t matter because right now, it’s my word against his precious, golden daughter’s, and he’s too fucking biased to even look into anything.
“Explain yourself,” he demands.
The words spill out. I tell him everything I’ve heard, every threat, and every detail. I explain how it fits the evidence. I even explain why I was listening to their conversation in the first place.
It doesn’t matter. He just keeps staring at me angrily while I beat my head against the same brick wall.
This can’t be how it ends. Anger boils up in me, and I finally shout, “And she’s going to get away with it because you’re too busy playing favorites with us to realize she’s fucking you over, too!”
My father’s eyes flash, and his face darkens. I’ve gone way too far this time. And yet, it feels like I haven’t gone far enough because he’s still not hearing me.
“Get out of my house,” he snaps suddenly.
It stops me cold. “What?”
“You’re drunk, you’re violent, you were an inch from attacking your sister, and you’ve scared her to death. I don’t give a goddamn what you think you heard. There is no excuse for this.
“Get out of my home, and don’t think about coming back until you have that money or can tell me where it went. And I want evidence, not more bullshit! Now, get your shit and go!”
I stare at him in pained astonishment, and the first thing that goes through my head is bitter as hell: This is what I get for having loyalty .
The worst part, as I turn to walk away, is catching a glimpse of Maria smirking as she watches me go.
Outside, I sit on the steps and hold my head, baffled and pissed off. I heard what I heard. I know what I know, but it’s not enough for my father, even as the knowledge of the truth burns me up inside.
I’m too fucking drunk to drive. I should call a service and get picked up, but right now, my head is throbbing so hard that I can’t focus.
I don’t realize Billy has come out after me until he sits down next to me.
“What the fuck happened?”
I tell him.
He stares at me incredulously, like he doesn’t know whether to believe me or not. I wince and look away from him.
“Yeah, I thought so,” I grumble. “You don’t believe me either.”
“I don’t know what to believe. Dad’s furious, Mom’s crying, Maria’s crying, some asshole just ran out the backdoor like he was caught fucking her... and now, you’re saying she and this guy are the ones who stole from us?”
I look at him gravely. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I am.”
“Can you prove that?”
I stop short. “I think so.”
“Well... that’s what you are going to need to get back in Dad’s good graces and prove what you’re saying. Hard evidence, or a witness.”
“Do you believe me?”
He shoots me a troubled look. “Would you believe me straight off if I leveled that kind of accusation at family? Even a brat like her?”
“God.” I rake a hand back through my hair. “I get it. I get it.”
I just hate it. I understand now exactly how Arya must feel: Like the whole world is against her, and she has no one in her corner.
“At least I have her,” I mumble.
“Who?” he asks distractedly.
I shake my head. “Never mind.”
He goes quiet for a few seconds. “Not driving while you’re this drunk?”
“Hell no.”
“Good man. Did you call a cab?”
“Can’t quite manage it yet.” That embarrasses me, but there is not much I can do about it at the moment, between the whiskey and the adrenaline.
“Okay. I’m gonna give you a ride. Where are you headed? The condo?”
I shake my head. “Houseboat.”
“The houseboat it is,” he says indulgently. “Just don’t puke in my car.”