Page 20 of Burn Falls

My brother and sister each said their tearful goodbyes, and then Draven and my mother came in. I watched as Draven took my dad off the machines that were helping him stay alive. It felt as though I was watching the end of the world unfold in front of my eyes. It didn’t take long for the machine monitoring his heart to give the sound I’d only heard before on TV shows.

The haunting sound of a flat line.

CHAPTER SIX

Outskirts of Chicago - 1928

Spying through the window, I could see my parents and sister sitting around the kitchen table. I hadn’t been home in two weeks, and as I knocked on the door, it felt strange. I needed them to invite me in.

My turning had changed everything.

My father answered. “Draven! Where the hell have you been?”

“Hi, Pa.”

“Your mother has been worrying sick about you. Why did you knock? Get your ass in here.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” I said as I stepped over the threshold.

Dad closed the door, and immediately it felt as though the walls were going to cave in on me for having to lie to them. “Where have you been? We didn’t know if you were dead, beaten, or you just up and left.”

“Draven!” My mother walked into the small living room from the kitchen and straight to hug me. “Where have you been? You’re so cold.”

“It’s a long story.” I could feel my father’s heated gaze on me as my mother guided me over to my usual chair at the dining room table.

“Sit, while I get you some supper to warm you up. You need to eat something. You’re looking awfully pale.”

“Where have you been?” Dad asked the million dollar question again.

Before I could respond, my mother slid a plate of food in front of me. I could smell the pot roast coming from the plate—usually my favorite meal—but it no longer made my stomach growl or my mouth water. I started to eat the food knowing I’d gain no value from it.

“Stop fussing around him. I want to know where he’s been for the past month,” Dad spat.

My sister rolled her grey eyes as she finally spoke, “He’s probably been drunk at the whorehouse.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” my father told her. “Answer my question, Draven.”

“I went to Chicago to run the tables,” I partially lied. I was in Chicago, but that wasn’t where I went voluntarily. That was where Samuel had taken me, and now it was where I was under Renzo’s control.

“You need to stay away from Chicago. It’s dangerous there,” Mother cried.

“Look, Draven. You need to get your act together. You can’t disappear for days on end like this.” My father’s face and tone were stern. “Maybe it’s time to help me, become a bank teller like your old man? It brings in a steady income and doesn’t attract the wrong kind of people.”

“Yeah, about that,” I said running a hand through my slicked back brown hair. “I got a job in Chicago, and I’ve come to tell you that I’m moving out. I’ll be getting all of my belongings after I’ve eaten.”

“What?” My mother gasped.

My father shook his head in disbelief. “What sort of job?”

“Working for a man named Renzo Cavalli,” I replied around a mouthful of food.

“Who’s this Cavalli fella?” Dad asked. “What does he do?”

There was no way I could tell my family the truth, that I worked for a man who bootlegged alcohol and controlled prostitutes while giving kill orders to Al Capone. However, my primary job was making sure the house won when it came to Cavalli’s underground gambling operations.

I turned to my father. “I’m working the door at a jazz club, and I’m making a lot of dough. It’s time I grew up and got a real job, right?”

Dad stared at me and, having sensitive hearing, I could hear my mother’s silent cries as she washed dishes in the sink. “You’re right,” he finally said. “It is time you grow up. You’re a man now. You’re twenty-four, and you should think about settling down.”