Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Dark
Thick cigar smoke curls in the air of the private back room at one of my father-in-law Harold’s bars as the man beside me slaps his cards on the table. “Fuck!” he roars, shoving a woman off his lap. She stumbles onto her heels, and I reach past my date to steady her.
“Thanks,” she whispers, tugging down her short, foil-lookin’ skirt, before she flashes me a tight, uncomfortable smile.
Ah yes. Another night of… rich shmucks doin’ rich schmuck things, like betting their entire stack of chips on a pair of tens.
Across the poker table, Harold strokes the side of his latest broad’s tit and grins. “So sorry, Vin, better luck next time.” He nods toward his three-of-a-kind.
With a humorless go-fuck-yourself laugh, Vin pulls the woman back into his lap as if she’s his favorite accessory.
She gasps but otherwise stays quiet as he reaches into his suit jacket and tosses a wad of cash onto the center of the table.
Our dealer handles the exchange and slides a new stack of chips across the green felt.
Harold, or Mr. Grant, as everyone here calls him, smiles like the villain of a B-rated horror movie at the jackass before swinging his attention my way.
“Maxim, how do you like your gift?” Mr. Grant’s eyebrows lift in question, testing my response.
To play the dutiful son-in-law, I wrap my arm around the petite brunette on my lap, even though I couldn’t care less about her presence.
He always pulls this shit. When he cheats on his wife with whatever new flavor of the month, I must do the same.
I assume it’s to keep me quiet, so I don’t cause a fuss over wherever he dips his wrinkly old dick.
But his wife already knows about his laundry list of affairs, so I don’t get why he cares what I think or why he always includes me in pointless arm candy that I have no intention of fucking.
Yes, I know, I got a blowjob from my assistant this morning.
That’s different. Harold didn’t personally select her to show me a good time.
I don’t trust this motherfucker as far as I can throw him.
He’s a snake, as are the people he employs, and that extends to the present arm candy he’s provided each of us tonight.
Pasting on a convincing smile, I grip the young woman’s thigh, and she shudders. “Smokin’ hot. Good choice.”
He hums, looking far too pleased with himself, and kisses his lap candy on the cheek.
I’ve seen this woman once or twice before.
We had lunch a few weeks ago to discuss our upcoming family vacation, and she was there.
Her mismatched eyes are a dead giveaway—one hazel with a patch of dark blue in the corner, and the other brown.
Otherwise, she’d blend in with the rest of the young women being pawed by men twice their age.
At least I have the decency not to put mine through that, not when I’m pretty sure she’s a fresh buy.
Trafficked women aren’t my style. They’re not usually his either, but I guess he’s showing off tonight for our new guests.
Tapping the side of his glass with the chunky ring on his middle finger, my father-in-law sits back and waits for our waitress to refill his wine before he gestures to our dealer to get back to business.
As it typically goes, men lose more money and get shitfaced on expensive booze as the night carries on.
When the tray of coke comes out, everyone but Harold and me partakes.
Even some of the women. Lips are loosened, and before the evening’s over, more than a few of the jackasses have said more than they should in present company.
“I…I ne-need two…kidneys,” Vin slurs at Mr. Grant, as he fingers his date, or attempts to.
His beady eyes swing to her, and he blows her a kiss.
“You like what I’m doin’ to ya, baby? You gonna come for me?
” The dumbass winks like he’s fuckin’ god’s gift to women, blows her another kiss, and returns his attention to Harold, who’s snickering as he watches this train wreck with far too much satisfaction.
“Two.” Vin lifts his sausage fingers covered in rings and spreads them into a pair of bunny ears. “Two,” he enunciates with his thick New Yorker accent.
Mr. Grant hums and sips his wine like he has all the time in the world.
He offers his woman a taste from his mouth.
Ever the doting mistress, she leans in and does as expected.
The kiss is long and R-rated. By the time they part, my father-in-law is panting.
Her lips are cherry red, but she seems far less affected than he is.
“Got a mom and a cousin who need ‘em,” Vin fills in when he should keep his trap shut.
Mr. Grant sucks his front teeth. “Two mil.”
Vin whistles as if that’s outta his price range.
The three other men at the table suddenly become more acquainted with their ladies as poker night shifts from guys’ night to business, which is a huge fuckin’ no-no in this world.
“Each,” my father-in-law tacks on.
Cursing under his breath, Vin shifts in his chair. “That’s goddamn extortion.”
“You wanted to talk business,” Harold states far too calmly, when I know he’s pissed. “Let’s talk business. Anyone else got somethin’ to add? Need a heart? Lungs?” He gestures to the men seated around the table.
Nobody says a word or even dares to breathe.
Our dealer quietly rises from his seat and extends his upturned palm to Harold’s date, who nods in appreciation as the dealer draws her to her feet.
With his hand at the small of her back, he escorts her to the exit, where two bouncers standing guard open the door and let them pass.
Across the dim room, my father-in-law meets my gaze, and that’s all I need to act.
Vin opens his mouth, and as he does, I draw my gun from under my seat, aim it at his temple, and pull the trigger.
Blood and brain matter spray, coating his date and those seated beside him as the bullet makes a clean exit, only to find its home in the concrete wall.
The women scream, and Mr. Grant orders the bouncers to collect them.
They’ve seen and heard too much.
That’s how this works.
Nobody defends them as the bouncers line them up against the wall beside the drain.
With tear-streaked faces, they plead for help, but it’s useless.
One by one, Harold’s henchmen shoot them in the head twice.
Then they drag them by their limp arms into a pile, giving zero fucks about their dignity in death.
I numb out.
When my father-in-law starts his speech to the men left, about loyalty and respect, I tune him out.
When the night is over, I exit the bar like a zombie through the back steel door, where my driver picks me up in the back alley in a blacked-out SUV.
When we pull into the underground parking garage to the penthouse I share with Penelope, I run on autopilot.
In through the elevator to our floor, push a couple of buttons, and before I know it, I’m stepping into the foyer of our shiny, marble-floored hellscape that is my life.
She’s asleep when I shower, and when I slide into our massive bed beside her, I rest naked on my side and stare at the bedroom door with its crystal handle and intricate carving bullshit.
All I want is to break free from this invisible cage.
Once, I had a life I loved.
Now I’m more alone than I’ve ever been. In a marriage I don’t want. Being a bitch boy to a rich fuck that I don’t respect.
Why?
I don’t have the answer. I wish I did.
When my father and my wife, Kali, decided they were in love…
and I get it… I truly do… I’ve done some horrible fuckin’ shit, and Kali deserves her slice of happy…
It’s just… I lost myself. I don’t know who I am without her.
When I knocked Abby up on a club run by accident, I panicked and brought her home with me.
Sure, I knew it’d ruin any chance I had of getting back into Kali’s good graces.
But what was I gonna do? Leave my kid to be raised in the world somewhere, without my protection?
Fuck no. My sons have always had me. Lily was sure as hell gonna get the same respect.
It’s the least I could do to take care of her mother as well, even if I never loved her. I tried. I did. To love Abby.
I’ve tried to love Penelope, too.
I just can’t.
Maybe I’m not capable of love when it isn’t tied to obsession.
Kali was an obsession.
At first, when we’d met her in that old folks’ place, when her mom was dying, I didn’t think much of her.
She was more of a nuisance Dad was determined to help.
Months later, she got to me. It was slow.
My descent into the madness of love. I didn’t know what to do with it.
How to feel. Pops wasn’t much help in that department, and I don’t have a mom.
Well, I do. We all have a mom, but I don’t know her.
Sure, I cheated on my wife for my club.
Yes, it felt good at the time.
But sex is just sex.
It doesn’t mean anything to me.
Not with anyone but her.
It was a means to an end. A release. A temporary euphoria.
To clear my head, I scrub a hand down my face and sigh.
Something’s gotta change. I can’t live like this anymore.
Visiting Penelope was supposed to be a temporary stop on my way to figuring shit out after leaving Abby and saying goodbye to Kali.
But I stayed, and now I’m deeper in her and her father’s world than ever.
Guess it’s time to stop burying my head in the sand and make it count.
But that’s for tomorrow.
Tonight, I sleep, hoping I don’t dream of the woman with the crystals and the plants who used to light my heart on fire.