His conniving, sinister voice slithers its way over to me. “Could be happier to see me.”
I stand there and stare at the man, a person I know I’ll never be happy to see. He’s taken too much from me. My money, my mother, and now everything she left behind, which has to be the reason he’s here at all. I knew he’d eventually crawl his way out of the woodwork. I’m surprised it took this long.
The house behind me is the perfect backdrop for whatever he has to say. A reminder that the home I’ve lived in my entire life and have come back to now that Mom is gone will be ripped away from me just as quickly.
“Don’t fucking act like I didn’t speak to you.” His tone is sharper now, like he has every right to correct my behavior. News-fucking-flash, he doesn’t.
My molars grind down, my jaw damn near breaking from the pressure. My chest aches in the same way it did when we were in Stewart’s office. When I learned that the man across from me is my biological father. “What the hell do you want?”
His eyes flick to the house behind me, and he holds up a piece of paper. “Finally came to collect what belongs to me. Took a bit of time but the bank finally fucking pulled through with the paperwork.”
“This house isn’t yours.”
“Not what your lawyer said, boy.” He cants his head to the side. “He really did screw you right up the shitter, didn’t he? Bet it was nice thinking about what you’d do with all the money your dopehead mother left behind.” He lets out a contented sigh that annoys me. “Doesn’t matter because this,” he indicates to the paper in his hand again, “gives me the right to throw your ass to the curb. House is in my name now.”
I wish my glare was strong enough to bring him to his knees. That it could act as pliers and torturously yank each of his teeth from his head one by one.
I get hung up on the way he disrespects Mom, ignoring that stupid piece of paper in his hand that I could easily take a lighter to and burn. “Don’t talk about her like that,” I counter with a venom in my voice that I’ve gotten quite used to the last month.
“Aw,” he coos. “How fucking adorable. Even now you want to come to her defense. If mommy dearest were still alive, you think she’d give a shit about you standing up for her?” He takes a small baggie out of his pocket and wiggles it. “This is what she’d care about. Same thing she wanted when she was behind bars.”
My brows push together, moving from what looks like a powdery substance in his hand back up to his face. How would he have known what she wanted then?
He smirks like he’s proud of me for coming up with the answer to the rhetorical math problem he laid out for me. Itdawns on me a minute before he brags, “That’s right. Your druggie mom used her one call on me when those pigs locked her up, and guess what she asked for, Colson? No, wrong word. Begged is more fitting.”
Fucking drugs.
I thought about this, wondering how it was possible for her to get her hands on illegal substances while she was property of the state.
I stay quiet, because I’m not sure what I could possibly say to this man to make him realize how fucked up he is. Sneaking drugs into a jail for an addict through some secret contact is on another level of messed up.
All the muscles in my body seize with irritation, anger, and sadness. I don’t fucking know. Maybe all three wrapped into one. Either way, there’s a conglomeration of emotions as my stomach fills with disgust. This is why I turned to fighting, because I can’t deal with this, withhim.With everything.
There’s nothing I’d rather do than cross the sidewalk and turn him into one of the guys I go up against. They’re all villains to me, this guy the biggest one. It’d be easy taking him down with how much rage boils my blood.
“What was I supposed to do?” he asks. “Deny her request?”
“You’re a piece of shit,” I spit.
“I was only giving her what she wanted,” he rationalizes.
My body moves on its own, eating up the grass as I cut across the patch of it in front of the house. “You’re going to wish?—”
“Watch your goddamn mouth,” he snarls, lifting his hand to signal what I find is one of his guys across the street. A car door opens, and it’s like all the times Finn ambushed me. A beefy dude stands there, face muscles pulled taut like they’ve never been given a day of relaxation. He’s wearing a red windbreaker, and with the flick of a hand, pushes it to the side and rests hishands on his hips. A gun glints in the daylight, the back end of a blued barrel merging into a handgrip resting on a belt buckle.
“Put the tough guy act away. You’re nothing to be scared of, but if you try and pull a fast one, Francis won’t have a problem speeding up your chances of seeing Janie again. He’ll make it quite the reunion.”
I fist my hands at my sides and manage to get out, “What do you want?”
“What’s mine. It’s time to pack your shit and find a bridge to live under.”
“Fuck you.” I’m not the guy who fell into the trap of him using Mom as leverage. I have nothing left to fight for, so at this point, I’m done holding back with him. He can reap what he sows.
“I was going to give you a month to make it happen, out of the kindness of my heart. But now?” He turns for the street, making it around the car and pulling the driver’s door open. “You got a week.”
“You think I’m just going to fall in line?”
He arches an eyebrow. I hate how his eyes have a similar shape and color as mine. How our appearances are uncanny, and I never picked up on it before. “If I’m not mistaken, you always did before. Be a good boy and keep it up,” he condescends with a smirk. He looks back at Francis. “He can help with that and will if you’re not out by this time next week. You don’t like that? Take it up with someone who gives a flying fuck. This house and the money are mine. Sooner you realize that, the better it’ll be for you.”
