Roman slides off his chair and crouches next to Val, putting an arm around his shoulders. “I’m right here?—”
We all jolt when Val’s fist slams down on the table, rattling the silverware and making water splash from the glasses. “Ineed a fucking?—!”
His face squeezes and scrunches up tight. He whirls on me, his eyes wild as they stab into me.
“What thefuckdo you mean he’s not my father,” he seethes.
“Val, I’m so fucking sorry?—”
“I don’twantyour fucking sorries,” he snarls. “I want a cigarette, and I want to know who thefuckmy actual dad is!”
I take a deep breath.
“Your father is Diego Torvallés.”
I thought the look on his face when I told him Morganwasn’this father would be the one that killed me. But when I see the horrified shock on my brother’s face, it’s like my heart is ripping open.
Val sits slumped in his chair, his eyes staring through the table and his hand clenching into a fist over and over. Roman wraps his arms around my brother and holds him tightly.
I breathe deeply, gripping Evelina’s hand.
“You know Mom turned tricks,” I say quietly. “But before things got real bad and meth took her looks, she was a stunner, and she’d do high-end escort work to feed her addiction.” My jaw tightens. “Mainly in Pittsburgh or Philly, but the real money and the big spenders were in New York. And on one of her trips here, she got booked by a high roller client who was visiting from Spain.”
Val’s face pales.
“D-did Dad…Morgan…” he frowns. “I mean, he obviously didn’t know?—”
“Oh yeah, he knew,” I mumble. “He and Mom tried to shake Diego down for money about a year after you were born. They weren’t the first. When I dug into it, there were something like forty-five women over about a ten-year period that did the same, and he paid them all without ever looking into their claims. He just wanted them to go away.”
Shit.
I realize exactly how terrible that sounds just as Val’s chair loudly shoves back from the table.
“I need to get the fuck out of here before I explode.”
He storms away from the table as the rest of us stand.
“What thefuck, man?” Roman hisses, turning to glare at me.
“Rome,” Evelina says, her voice breaking. “Was he supposed tonottell him?”
“I…” Roman grits his teeth. “I mean,Jesus Christ, Vaughn.”
Evelina frowns. “Roman,come on.He deserved to know! Don’t shoot the messenger!”
Roman shakes his head. “I'll go find?—”
“No. I’ll talk to him,” I growl.
Roman barks out a brittle laugh. “I think you’ve fucking said enough for one night, don’t you?”
“Roman!”
Evelina and her brother turn on each other, muttering quietly. I squeeze her shoulder and then leave the table and head outside.
Val is huddled against the wind, a cigarette he got fuck-knows-where between his lips as he vainly tries to coax fire from a lighter in his hands.
“I thought you quit.”
