Chapter 9 #3
He grabs a corner rag from the side and proceeds to wipe off his shoe. Garron giggles like a hyena as he regards us just off to the side. Normally, he is the one to jump in, hot headed and without forethought. I drop the blade to the floor, leaving the mess behind.
“Clean this up!” I spit, stepping off the raised platform and making my way to the back office for a clean shirt.
After removing my soiled shirt and adding it to the pail to be burned later, I sit at the desk with my phone. I need to know more, and I only have one way of doing that. My thumbs hover over the text thread with Cindel. I haven’t even bothered to clean the drying blood from my hands.
Eamon: Hey, little fish, sorry I had to leave so abruptly.
Cindel: It’s okay.
Eamon: Would you like to have dinner with me?
It takes a few moments until another message comes through.
Cindel: Now? It’s almost 2 a.m.! Plus, I thought you had a meeting?
I’m sure she’s curious what kind of encounter happens at this hour, but she doesn’t ask. I snicker to myself as I type back.
Eamon: Got off on the wrong foot with a new client. The meeting ended earlier than expected.
Dots dance along the bottom of the screen as she appears to be typing, erasing, and retyping her response.
Cindel: Today has been the longest day in history for me. I need to get some sleep.
I agree. It has been a taxing day. She doesn’t deserve this. My search for answers will have to hold off until another day.
Cindel: I also have this breakfast thing in the morning.
Right… the Thursday thing with her uncle. I wonder what other family she has that I didn’t know about. It may be wise to spend time with her in a new setting, outside of work. We have a lot of regulars, and you can never be too careful. You never know who may be watching.
Eamon: How about dinner this weekend?
She doesn’t wait to respond. Dots dance ahead of a lengthy response.
Cindel: Shit. Sorry... I'm sure you didn’t know. I told Cassie earlier this week that I needed the weekend off. I’m going to the Catskills. My parents need me to dog sit.
Is that where they ran off to all those years ago? I debate telling Cindel that Cassie is gone, but I think better of it. She’s had a rough day already. Damn, now I need to hire more help.
Finally, I responded.
Eamon: Next week, then. Goodnight, beautiful.
I felt foul outside as well as within. I rest my head against the walnut desk, trying to quiet the swarm of bees taking up residence in my brain, when the damn phone begins to buzz violently.
“What?” I answered. Rubbing at my temples; soon realizing my hands are still splattered with blood and now it’s surely on my face now.
“Sup, loser?!” a high-pitch voice replies.
“Make it quick, I’m a little busy.” Pressing the phone to my ear before migrating to the office bathroom. Retrieve a towel, I begin to wipe at the evidence off me, trying to do right by my family.’ Fuck. Going to have to burn this brand-new hand towel now.
“Yeah. Yeah. Important gang shit to do. Blah. Blah.” The teasing voice plays through the speaker. I throw the towel down into the sink.
“What the fuck do you want?!” I turned back just in time to see Garron and Dax have entered the room, both taking seats in front of my desk.
“Okay, geeze! I thought you should know that Dad’s coming. He said something about you being out of your wheelhouse. Says he needs to come and sort this shit, himself.”
I march over to Garron, pushing his feet off the edge of my desk. “Yeah… how about, no! You tell him—” I begin, only to be cut off by a shrill voice on the other line.
“I’m not your fucking pigeon, Eamon! Tell him yourself when he’s standing in front of you within the next couple hours!”
I sighed heavily. There was a time when we weren’t at each other's throats. I bet Mom is turning in her grave with how we are to each other now. “Sorry. It’s just… I got a lot of moving pieces right now and I’m trying to get more intel.”
The line is quiet for a moment. I can hear her quick, angry breaths through the phone. “Whatever, fuck face.”
I try to say thanks for the heads up, but she already ended the call.
“Go!” I demand through gritted teeth.
Although these are the only two people who seem to risk being this close to me these days, I didn’t want them here. “Go get ready… my father will be here soon.”
Alone again, I find myself back in the bathroom.
Taking in my reflection within the modest mirror.
Each year I look more like my father. The lines on my forehead are deeply creased despite my face being at rest. Dark circles mark each eye that I never had before.
I thought it was just the way my father’s face looked, but now I understand why he always appeared so haggard, edged with weariness.
It must come from a lifetime of making hard decisions or neglecting things that so desperately needed your attention.
My father took everything for granted… but so have I.
There’s no redo button. No winding back the clock.
I’ve grown more resentful over the past couple years, and I’m not sure there’s a way of coming back.
I scowl at the man in the reflection, draw back my fist and attempt to shatter the person I’ve become.