“I’m keeping the details of the changes as quiet as possible,” I explained. “When I did it the first time a few weeks ago, I discovered that the bait and switch works perfectly. Los Muertos attacked the obvious target, not realizing until it was too late that they were attacking a shipment of junk. The real goods were transported along quieter, less obvious lines. It meant the delivery was split, but on time, and my integrity and efficiency look far better than before.”
I also had it on good authority that Luis and Reg were furious that the first trick had gone off without a hitch. That I had continued to use that tactic, one they knew I was going to use, and it was working every time, apparently had them incensed. It would have been a tactical blow if I lost the ability to move products in and out of the city, and I figured that was the first place they would target. That I was making things more frustrating for my own people was a small price to pay until they saw that my tactics were, in fact, working. All I needed was tokeep going, and instead of fighting an uphill battle, I was making them do all the running around and looking like idiots.
Interestingly, I hadn’t heard from Augustine since his call a few weeks ago. There had been the occasional message, but even those hadn’t been probing or critical. If he was curious why I was switching things up, he kept his questions to himself. Either he figured I had things well in hand, or he was waiting to see when he needed to step in. His silence should have been a comfort, but instead, it was making me more wary with each passing day.
“No,” he said with a snort. “I meant, why aren’t you looping Will into things? Isn’t he your personal assistant?”
“He is,” I said, plucking my jacket from the rack. “And he’s actually quite good at what he does. The problem is, he’s still young and inexperienced, and I’ve seen repeated signs that he might, in fact, be easily overwhelmed if he’s not careful. Add in the fact that he seems eager to please, and that leaves it up to me to make sure he doesn’t get overwhelmed.”
Dom snorted. “So you’re being nice?”
“Is that so hard to imagine?” I asked dryly, turning to the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. “I have never portrayed myself as needlessly cruel or willing to work someone to the last inch. He’s young, he’s naive, he’s more trusting than he should be, and I have no desire to take advantage of that.”
“Hmph, I guess that’s on me then,” Dom muttered.
“What do you mean?” I asked, frowning in confusion.
Dom shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I thought it was because you didn’t trust him. Like, I mean, it’s obvious you don’t trust him. But not because he’s slimy or you’re suspicious, but because he’s just a kid who doesn’t know he’s in over his head.”
“Hmm, I never considered casting doubt on his character,” I said thoughtfully.
“Just his ability,” Dom added, catching me by surprise.
“You think I’m being like Augustine?” I asked, trying carefully to keep any defensiveness out of my voice. I was well aware that, as his son and someone who’d spent a great deal of time around Augustine, learning from him no less, there was always a chance I would adopt some of his traits. Of course, some of them I intentionally adopted, but there was always a chance I would absorb those traits I wasn’t fond of.
Dom let out a strangled noise. “God, no. Sure, Augustine is the kind of asshole who’d doubt anyone just because they haven’t proved themselves to him, and make sure everyone knew that about him, and probably be smug as fuck about it.”
“You’re not entirely wrong,” I said with a snort.
“I know,” he said. “And yeah, you’re not really giving the kid a chance, but you’re doing it to make things easier for him, not because you think he’s useless or you need to keep an eye on him. Don’t get me wrong, I see that prick in some of the stuff you do, and yeah, that means with Will too, because you’re choosing for him instead of letting him do it. But you’re trying to run shit, and sometimes the people in charge have to make choices for other people, even if they don’t like it.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I said slowly, not sure how I felt about his assessment. I knew he was right: a leader often had to make decisions for others, even if they wouldn’t like it. At the same time, there was something...violating about the idea. I accepted it had to be done, but I didn’t have to like it. “What would you advise?”
He flinched, eyes widening. “What? Why are you asking me?”
It was a fair question. It wasn’t like I had ever consulted him about anything related to my work, so why would I now? Especially when he had limited knowledge of the situation, mostly because I intentionally kept him in the dark. Yet at the same time, he was clearly able to peer around the corners of the walls I put up for his safety, something I had to note wasa prime example of decision-making for others that I found uncomfortable.
Ah, you’re beginning to see the core of the problem. Is it hypocrisy on your part or just the side effect of being human?
Personally, I didn’t think there was a difference between the two. Humans could lambast liars and hypocrites all they wanted, but we all were when you scratched the surface. Our lies kept us safe from others, and our hypocrisy kept us safe from ourselves. Lying allowed us to keep other people from ever seeing who we really were, and hypocrisy allowed us to deal with the sheer size and weight of reality as it threatened to crush us. We had to tell ourselves that leading others meant sometimes making decisions for them, even though we would despise the idea of someone taking our autonomy away. To acknowledge both truths at the same time and attempt to reconcile them was inviting a sort of madness you didn’t walk away from easily.
“Because you’re normal,” I said simply and frowned when an incredulous look crossed his face. “You know what I mean, don’t start. How many people in my life live normal lives? How many of them have enough grounding in the world most people in this country live in? Only you. Only you can see what I would miss, because I’ve been surrounded by what it means to be a member of The Family; only you can speak on things that are just...normal. That, and who would I trust to speak honestly to me? There are only a few people who are at my level, so to speak, and they will always have some plan or scheme. Augustine above me can’t be trusted to speak honestly, and anyone below me is likely to tell me what they think I want to hear. So yes, you, because you are a normal person, and I know that even if you craft your words with care because you care about me, you will still give me the truth.”
Dom stared at me for a moment. “Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Being normal, having a normal life. Being able to live without constantly worrying about the cops or feds, or what your prick of a dad might do if you fuck up, or having to look over your shoulder constantly to make sure someone’s not fucking you over, or that someone else might try to kill you.”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “My life has been this way for so long, it’s all I really know. And that’s not a cheap cop-out or an attempt to minimize what you’re asking. I can see what you’re getting at, but I lack the context to answer. All I have are memories before I got into this life, and those are just that, memories. They’re not the same thing as actively living a certain way and growing accustomed to it, so it’s all just... second nature. I know enough to remember what I no longer have, but I had to let go of that life a long time ago. And I became so good at letting go that those memories no longer have the same...weight they once did. It’s like trying to remember another life, or remember one that someone else lived, and asking if I miss it. This is my life now, and trying to wish, or even missing something out of my reach, is pointless.”
“Alright, well that officially gets on my list of Most Depressing Things Anyone Has Ever Said to Me,” he muttered, frowning at the floor. “Not really a surprise, I guess. That’s a very...you answer.”
“I’m not sure if I should take offense or not,” I said, gathering the rest of my things and putting them in my pockets, checking my phone for new messages that needed to be dealt with immediately. Nothing stood out, just Will checking in to confirm if he’d done something right, a couple of suppliers confirming that I did in fact want them to make the last-minute changes, an update on the bounty Los Muertos had put on my head for anyone bold enough, and a few other things that I dismissed to deal with later.
“It’s just...you,” he said, standing up. “I always used to think it was impressive that you could adapt to just about anything. You take things in stride pretty well for a guy who has control freak issues.”
I wasn’t fond of being called a control freak, but I couldn’t deny it either. “Even someone with control issues can pivot sufficiently to keep their sanity. It doesn’t hurt that I put myself in this position. Everything which followed was simply a consequence of that choice, and it was up to me to adjust accordingly.”
