15. Dog bites don’t look like that
DOG BITES DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT
Smoke curled around my nose, tickling it as I banged against the door for the fifth time.
I wasn’t against breaking down the door, but I had already been encroaching on getting put in jail for disturbing the peace.
This place brought up nasty memories, and I hated even being here.
I turned and surveyed the area. The air was thick with the smell of fire, but I didn’t see any signs of bright orange flames.
Some rich college kid or something probably just had a bonfire a few hours ago.
I checked the time on my phone before banging against the door again. It was a little after one in the morning; I doubted anyone to actually be asleep though. As my fist came up to bang against the door, it opened.
“Master Mathews, we were not expecting you.” The butler, Marcus, said with a bit of disdain in his voice.
“Where is my father?” I growled out. The man in front of me was as despicable to me as the rest of the fucking servants in this house.
“Senator Jeffery’s not here sir.” He practically spat the ‘sir’ part, and a hearty laugh left me as I gripped his shoulder.
“Listen here Mark, I don’t give a flying fuck what he’s told you to say to me.
Either you bring him here, or I will smash your skull on my way in.
” I threatened, and there was a pop of my knuckles for show.
I didn’t mind dragging the man who claimed to be my father out here, but I promised my firefly I would never come back to this place.
This was already breaking a promise. Another sin against someone I love.
“Wait one moment sir,” the weasel squeaked out, and I stood there, my foot in the door, as I waited.
I checked my watch at the five-minute mark and pushed open the door to see him walking down the grand staircase.
The smell hit me again as I stepped into the foyer.
Something damp — stale like air that didn’t move.
I looked around the place; not much had changed, but the added security cameras pointed towards one of the side halls was a new addition.
My eye caught on my father’s silver hair, his hand casually in his pocket.
He walked towards me with confidence, a silky set of PJs on his skin and slippers.
He looked like a twisted version of Daddy Warbucks, and I gritted my teeth as he approached.
“My boy, what do I owe the pleasure?” Jeffery smoothed wrinkles away from his shirt, and I refrained from commenting.
“Where’s Midas?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea, I do not associate with my former colleagues.” He replied smoothly without an ounce of sympathy.
“Bullshit, you think I’m stupid. I see the way you’ve set yourself up. I know you still have skin in the game.” He put his hand up as if to defend himself against my accusations, and that’s when my eyes caught on the white gauze wrapped around his right hand.
“Son, I don’t know what lies you’ve been hearing.
But I assure you I have no idea where Midas is these days.
Last time we spoke you were this high. You’ve always had a problem keeping track of what’s yours—business-wise.
” He gestured to about chest level, and my jaw ticked with irritation. He was lying to me, as always.
“If that’s the case, I am supposed to assume that your up to your old methods without him? Your hand for instance?” I gestured to the bandaged hand, and he looked at it.
“I have a new dog.” He shrugged, my eyes drifted back toward the hallway with the cameras. Something about it made my skin crawl. “Why are you really here son? Business not going well?” he redirected, and my eyes snapped to his.
“You should know seeing as your pockets haven’t suffered.” I scoffed. A dull thump echoed somewhere deeper in the house. Not music, something heavier.
“True, campaigns don’t fund themselves. If that’s all son, I’d like to go back to bed now.”
“You’ll be seeing me soon.”
As I stepped back out into the night, the smell clung to me. Smoke. Something else mingled with it; I couldn’t place it. I didn’t know what he was hiding, but I knew it was here.