Perhaps, between my mother and Dom, I might have been able to push him and his influence out of my life. Except...my mother died. Between the factory she worked at full time and the diner she worked at part time, it was hard to say which one violated safety laws the most. If provoked, I would have bet it would be the factory that got her killed, but I would have been wrong.
Shoddy repairs and shitty equipment had resulted in an explosion that had taken my mother from me. I was fourteen, and she had no other family. While Dom had insisted his familycould take me in, we both knew his parents had more than enough on their plate. As amazing as Matilda was, I couldn’t crawl to her and ask for help, not when I had next to nothing to offer in return. Augustine though? I could offer him all sorts of work to justify taking me in and making sure I had a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and, as a bonus, healthcare that wasn’t bottom-of-the-barrel.
I just had one stipulation.
“Is that so?” he asked, leaning back and steepling his fingers in front of him, looking like he could be pushed toward amusement or irritation.
“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard to hide the fact that my heart was beating furiously and my throat was tight. “I’m offering to work for The Family, in whatever way you think I can, isn’t that enough to make a request?”
“A request can be refused without consequence; this sounds like a demand...a requirement,” he said. “I’ve helped take care of you for three years, Levi. Do you think it would stop simply because Lana died? I’ve accepted you as one of my own; you aren’t required to work for me to keep a home. Your care can be arranged without anything more than a thank you.”
“You don’t want that.”
“I don’t?”
“No, why make me do runs and deliveries? Why make me pass on messages in person? You could have had other people do that and still have something else for me to do to earn the allowance you’ve been giving me. Clean your house, mow your lawn, anything, but you had me do business. You want me to do business with you...so why not cut to the chase and get started? Sooner the better, right?”
“In some cases,” he said as if he were mulling it over. “But...yes, I wondered if you might join me in the family business. You’re smarter than your grades show, far, farsmarter in fact. You know how to get people to trust you, which is even rarer. And you’ve avoided trouble when doing something for me, which is...new. So yes, I have been curious if I might bring you into the fold, but there’s no rush.”
“Dad.”
“Hm, what is this...request of yours?”
“You can count it as two parts, or two requests, I guess,” I said, leaning forward and staring at him. I knew what I was about to say was going to be a big deal, maybe I didn’t know exactly how big, but it was a big step...maybe even a step closer to Hell. “The owner of the diner and the supervisor?”
“Cameron Dode,” Augustine said immediately, and my heart raced. “The man who ignored safety laws, precautions, and the reports that his kitchen was a threat to life and limb, that one?”
“And his inspector friend, the one he’s been paying off with his ass and cash.”
“You knew about that?”
“Yes.”
“Riley Fune.”
“Then you know about both of them.”
“I do,” he said, tilting his head. “What do you require?”
“I want them dead,” I said, holding up a finger. “That’s the first part.”
“And the second?”
I stared him in the eyes, hating the fat, greasy-smelling man who had hired my mother at the minimum rate and left her to struggle in a kitchen that was doomed to kill her. And the man who had been using his position to get laid, and put extra money in his wallet. That wasn’t just incompetence or mere negligence; they knew the building wasn’t safe. The only reason it had killed my mother and the two cooks and not the wholebuilding was sheer dumb luck. The bus boy had been smoking at the back door with it open, directing the flames outside.
“I want to be there,” I said. “I want to watch.”
And for the first time in three years...he smiled.
How many times had I replayed that day, wondering if it had been worth it to sell my soul? Fourteen-year-old me had known he was paying a heavy price, but he had never known what kind of price it would be in the end. I hadn’t known I would be tying myself to a group with more blood on its hands than I could ever imagine, and would be more ruthless and cruel than anything I would dare to dream. Or that I would be stuck there years later, trying to find a way to live a quiet life that didn’t draw attention.
And now this.
“Yes, there are plenty of people chomping at the bit to have the opportunity they see as being handed to you on a silver platter,” he said, looking me over. “I trust you’re smarter than that.”
“It’s being handed to me, alright, but I can’t tell if the platter is bent metal or has uranium at its core,” I said sourly. “You want me to swoop into Portland, asyourson, take over, and expect people to listen, and that I’ll get everything under control? I know nothing about that sort of thing.”
“As a matter of fact, you’ve been, if not outright running, then privately running a good deal of my business for almost five years now,” he said, arching a brow. “You’ve been handing out orders to people who’ve never even met you. Or did you not notice?”
