Page 89
Story: Wanting What's Wrong
“Well, a lot of people are watching it on TikTok.”
“Where else can people see it?”
I shrug, wiping my hand down the worn yellow towel. “Depends. People can share it I guess if they want. On Facebook, or wherever. Not many people do that, but, that’s okay. I’m just happy today. I just want to be happy today.”
“I want you happy too, princess. More than you know.”
“That’s the first video I’ve ever shown my face. I guess that was the missing piece.”
“Of course! That face is priceless.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I lean down and kiss his cheek as he starts the video again. “I’m going to go hop in the shower. Scotch will be here in an hour.”
Eleven
Scotch
“I’m done, Dad,” I tell him. “I’m not doing this shit anymore.”
The phone is on loudspeaker on the counter as I dispense an ice water from the fridge, holding the cold glass against my forehead for a moment. This is it, I’m breaking away. I’ve seen the golden light of a new dawn at the end of the tunnel and Lula is standing right there, bathed in its glory. What I’ve done to deserve a second chance, I don’t know, but I’ll take it with both hands.
My dad chuckles. “That’s funny. You almost had me believing you found a conscience.”
“I mean it. It’s over. Do your own dirty work. Or don’t. Just leave me the fuck out of it.”
“Son, we’re so close. They’re holding out but I can almost taste their fucking capitulation. We almost have what we want.”
“What you want,” I point out.
He chuckles. “What we both want. Don’t tell me you don’t need the money, Scotch. You always loved money.”
No I didn’t, I want to say.Not until you got your fucking claws in me. Instead, I say, “Don’t want it, don’t need it. And for that matter, I don’t need you either.”
I reach across for the phone, ready to end the call. I’ll delete and block his number, then move on with my life. I want Lula. I want to meet her father and ask for her fucking hand like we’re in some sort of period romance. I want to make sure she’s happy for the rest of her life. I want to be the man she deserves, not the one she found.
I’m going to buy us a house. Something big enough that we can take care of her dad too. And have a family of our own, kids I can give a better childhood to than the one I got.
I can almost taste the freedom.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he says in that slimy fucking voice of his.
“I don’t think so.” I go to end the call, but a part of me still wants to leave things on good terms. Or as good as they can be. “Bye, Larry. I genuinely hope you find some happiness.”
“I still have the shirt, son.”
I hesitate. My finger is hovering over the end call button. He’s bluffing.
Surely, he’s bluffing?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice level. He told me he got rid of all my clothes from that night. All ofourclothes.
“Sure you do, Scotch. You remember that night as well as I do. I’ll tell you what I remember, shall I? You, crying like a little girl, that’s what I remember.” He chuckles. “Dad, why did you make me do it? I never wanted to hurt anyone. Boo fucking hoo.”
I work my jaw, trying to come up with something to say, but my mind is stubbornly conjuring long buried memories. The rival club owner and his business partner, lying in a pool of their own blood, choking as they tried to breathe. My knuckles cut and bruised. The smell of the gasoline and piss, how bright the lighter looked in Larry’s hand.
They were pieces of shit. Everyone I knew was a piece of shit. They probably deserved that beating and more. But so did we.
Just a warning, my dad said as he looked down at them.Next time, you won’t walk out of here alive.
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