I gobbled that sweet tar down like it was my last meal. Crushing the can as soon as it was empty. It had taken the edge off, but I knew I would hit another craving soon. Grabbing another can, I turned around in time to see Nicu, arms crossed and staring at me like the disappointment I was.
“Fucking what?” I snarled. He can’t judge me. This was his fucking fault. If he had just let me get some more blow, I would be right as rain. I could’ve already cracked the woman by now, for sure.
The feel of her body underneath mine, my grip tightening on her wrists over her head, that sharp look of disgust, and even sharper tongue. I was about to get hard all over again thinking about it, and that threw me off. The fact that I liked it. Wanted more of her venomous words aimed in my direction. I wanted her to keep yelling at me, telling me off with my dick inside of her. Just the thought of her angry face screwed up in lust had me at a half-chub.
“How did it go? Did you get any information?”
My muscles clenched, getting twitchy again, and I cracked open the second can and took a slow, long sip before I answered. “Working on it.”
Leaning back against the counter to hide my body’s trembles, I turned back on my cocky asshole side and smirked at him while raising my can in salute. “It's only a matter of time. How long should I stretch it out, a few hours? If you give me half a day, she will sing like a canary, telling me even her ancestors' backgrounds.” I needed to know how long I had to keep up this charade.
Nicu’s eyes narrowed, his gaze assessing me from toe to nose. He was always assessing the problem and trying to find a solution. My jaw tightened as they groaned under my grip. I was always the problem he needed to fix, the person he needed to help, to keep tabs on. Cezar just gets a job and he lets him run free, run a muck. Cleaning up after his messes and claiming it under the family name as a warning to others, but me, no. I was the one that he had to keep an eye on. Make sure I didn't fuck anything up.
Worthless. Idiotic whore.
“He didn't say.” His mouth pinched, eyes going hard, giving me a rare look into how upset he was, how pissed off it made him that our father still controlled us, even out here. His dissatisfaction amused a small part of me. What can I say? I’m petty like that.
“I think he's not telling me something.” His left eye began to twitch, and my amusement disintegrated into dust just like that. I sometimes seem to forget that our father was a dick to all of us, not just me, and that we all had fucked up ways of dealing with it. Mine was drugs, Cezar’s was blood, but Nicu… he needed control, and I bet right now he felt very out of control.
Even with that demon of a voice calling in the back of my head, demanding that I tell my brother to lift this ridiculous ban, I knew this wasn't the time. No. If I tried now, he would just fight me even harder.
Slamming the rest of my drink, needing that sugar rush to keep me level, I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “So it seems we have some time to blow off steam. I saw a pool table in the back. Care for a game?”
Unimpressed, he lifted his brow at me until I followed with an offer I knew he couldn't refuse: “I’ll let you set up the whole game, rack 'em and everything, not a single peep out of me.” His eyes lit up before he turned toward the room in the back. I knew his controlling, compulsive mind couldn't pass up the opportunity.
As much as I was jealous of my brother and how our father valued him for being the firstborn, I also knew he didn't escape his wrath either. The few times he would take Nicu to his office, I didn't see him for days until he showed up with a few yellow-looking spots underneath his clothes. He did his best to hide it, but I knew. He might not be living in the same hell as me, but we were both treading lightly in those fiery pits, even if they were in different circles.
Nicu tried his best and was still trying his best to do right by us brothers, always trying to look out for us, even if it was controlling and overbearing. It wasn't completely his fault. No, the three of us were just the demons crafted by the devil himself, sharing in that communal misery of our circumstances. It was our lot in life; we all accepted it.
Following my brother, my heart felt a little lighter, but that itch in the back of my head started growing again. Could Isneak some blow in without him knowing?
The clanking of the balls being racked broke my train of thought, and I saw my brother moving each ball around so that all numbers would be shown and perfectly centered. I wanted to make some snide comment to get under his skin, but I promised to keep my lips shut.
After he took about ten minutes to rack the damn balls, he went to the cues and chalked them, but of course, the chalk had to be somewhat even. By the time he was done, my knee was bouncing off the wall, my mind screaming at him to just start the fucking game, but I was on edge, and I took that in as a factor.
“You first,” he finally spoke, and I exhaled.
“Fucking finally,” I grumbled, knowing he could hear me even if I said it low, but he didn't say anything in response, just stood there waiting for me.
Leaning over the table, I positioned the cue, getting ready to split this table in two with my break shot. Eyeing the ball just right, I tried to position the tip of the cue, but while hand balancing, the stick kept twitching, so the tip refused to stay still.
A burning embarrassment heated my neck as I tried a different hold and had the same problem. Nicu’s eyes were on me like a hawk, so I lifted the cue like a spear and stabbed it into the cue ball with all my might.
Crack. The ball flew and slammed into the first ball, causing the rack to split so fast it was like watching multiple pin balls bouncing around. Two stripes had sunk in the corner pockets, and I called out for stripes, going again to see if I could make another angel shot like that.
Drinking the last of my soda, I moved around the table, trying to find the best angle when Nicu asked in that soft, authoritative tone. “When are you going to have another crack at the woman?”
“In the morning. It's already too late, and she seemed on edge because of our little violent show earlier.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know it. “I was also interrupted before I could get to the good stuff.” Throwing Cezar under the bus would be the best bet for me to get Nicu off my back and onto his.
“Ah? So he’s back. He made quick work of him then.” It was all he had to say? Of course, because it was Cezar.
I had half a mind to tell him how Cezar acted with her, how he was out of control, out of his mind, fucking all of this up for us, but the words didn’t form as I took my shot.
I missed. Surprise surprise. It's just how my luck was going these days. Nicu walked around the table, eyeing his position to take his turn. “I'm trying to get some information on the mother through my contacts at home, but it might take a while, and I want to know why he wanted that woman so badly.”
Hearing the concern in his normally stoic, drab voice was strange, and the words flew out of my mouth before thinking. “Maybe he’ll want the daughter instead? If it's a money thing, she can work off the debt. If it's a revenge thing, she should be able to pay for it with her blood. You know how these things go.”
Even though I was the one saying the words, making the suggestions, calling it out so casually, my stomach dropped. If it were a revenge thing, there would be nothing I could do, nothing that could keep her safe from our father's retribution. It would be merciless and cruel. He would get his pound of flesh one way or another, and the thought of him being the one to close her eyes left a sour taste in my mouth.
