Move, Briar.
My chest heaves, desperate for air that won’t seem to fill me.
Fight.
My vision blurs, the sight of the pool chairs scattered around me bending and fading.
“Crazy how the boss has such an instinct for finding these fuckers.”
My eyes close and my parents’ faces break through the haze of pain. I was so sure I could prove myself. Now all I can think is,I’m sorry. You were right. I should have listened.
The words scrape against the last thread of my consciousness.
CHAPTER 7
CALLUM
The smell of cigar smoke clings to everything in here. The gaudy golden window drapes, the black silk tablecloth, and I’d be willing to bet even the damn duck on the plate I haven’t touched.
Elias sits stiff on my right, shoulders squared like he’s ready for a fight before the first punch is even thrown. His food is also untouched, making us stick out like sore thumbs compared to the guys with grease dribbling down their chins from the fatty meat. At the head of the table to Elias’s side, Uncle eats slowly, cutting pieces off meticulously with his knife, and acting like every bite proves he owns the world.
Dante is the only one under my uncle’s control who seems disinterested in the food, yet for some reason looks to be forcing himself to take small bites.
My cousin doesn’t look like the boy I grew up with, the one who used to sneak out with me to throw rocks at the security cameras and laugh like we’d won a war. He used to be the first to offer a warm smile and never cared for the ridiculous wardrobe our uncle ensured our closets were filled with the moment we graduated high school. His messy black waves that seemed permanently tousled are nowhere to be found, insteadhis hair is slicked back now, with the only sign of his curls being at the base of his neck. A thin gold chain lays against his chest, exposed with a single button undone on his black dress shirt. A matching watch and permanent scowl on his lightly stubbled face completes the mob-like look we’d always fought against.
There’s no trace of the boy I considered a brother, once upon a time. A small puff of air shoots from my nose as my head shakes softly. How did we end up like this?
When Elias drew away from everyone after we moved in with our uncle, Dante stepped in to ensure I felt welcomed and treated me like his own little brother. Now he leans back in his chair in that perfectly tailored outfit, swirling his wine like he was born to play protégé. He hasn’t spoken yet, choosing not to fill the silence with nonsense the way the other men at the table do–the ones laughing too loud at all of Uncle’s little quips, like seals clapping for scraps of attention.
Something flipped in Dante overnight years ago. One day he was my partner in crime, the next he was nodding at every word that came out of Uncle’s mouth. I watch the way his lips pinch slightly and his throat bobs harshly, like he’s forcing the bite of asparagus down.
I’ve never asked what happened, and I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
I keep my smirk in place throughout the whole dinner, needing it to hide the truth of my feelings, even though my jaw’s tight from holding it for so long now.
Elias hides behind a look of indifference. I hide behind charm. Either way, Uncle gets what he wants–us at his table, under his roof, and playing the game we told him we want no part in.
Uncle sets his fork down with a deliberate clink, the scrape of silver against the plate cutting through the noise. He doesn’traise his voice to cut through the boisterous laughter as he says, “That’ll be all.”
Yet somehow everyone hears him as if he’d shouted it, completely cued in on listening for his words at all times. Chairs screech back at once, the kind of sharp sound that makes my teeth grind. Every man at the table moves in sync, napkins folded and placed on the table and faces blank as they offer a nod of respect.
They know better than to linger, and in that, we’re the same.
Elias pushes back his own chair back and I start to follow, ready to get the hell out of this den of cigar smoke and polished silverware.
“Not you.”
Uncle’s voice cuts through the shuffle of feet, low but absolute. His pale eyes flick to me, then Elias, then Dante at his right. “Sit back down. This is a family discussion.”
The room empties fast, the double doors sealing with a heavy thud. The silence after it is worse than all the noise of dinner was.
Elias lowers himself back into the chair and I notice his jaw grinding, likely on the cusp of not being able to hold back his retorts. I drop into mine and let out a heavy sigh, pretending I don’t care for whatever is about to come from Uncle’s mouth, though my pulse has picked up in anticipation.
Nothing good ever comes from family dinners. Not since Dante’s mom and ours passed, taking all traces of warmth that a family should have with them to their caskets in our family plot.
Uncle leans back, hands folded over his stomach, and his gaze crawls over us one by one, like we’re still boys waiting for discipline.
The silence stretches, heavy, until I can’t take it anymore. If I let him dissect and look down upon me for a second longer, I’mgoing to say ‘fuck it’ to our inheritance he’s blocking and take my chances on the street.
