"Of course. Those two were thick as thieves. In fact, Marius was the one who introduced him to Roxanne. I think the night of the accident, they were coming back from one of the parties he likes to throw. Big ones, with all the DJs and the drugs. I'm so glad you were able to cover up all the drugs and alcohol in his system after the accident."
My ex-wife's comments surprise me, jolting the seeds of my discomfort and suspicions deeper. Clarissa might think I covered up the cause of the accident, and I won’t deny there was some alcohol in Peter's system. But he was far from being drunk, and there had been no drugs. The cause of the accident was clear: a hit-and-run incident. The person that hit them had never been found, though I tried.
I stand up, brushing my slacks, trying to ignore the feeling of unease and the sparks under my skin urging me to hurry, hurry,hurry, knowing Leah and the others are in terrible danger. I pretend nothing is wrong when all I want to do is charge out of here and tear the world apart.
I don't wait for Clarissa's permission, but she doesn't complain as I stride up the stairs to my son's room.
The shouts of anger are audible when I'm still halfway down the hallway; when I open the door, Peter is playing a video game from an enormous gaming chair, screaming into the microphone of his headset as he kills things on the screen. The room is a disaster; things are strewn everywhere, with old food and bowls lying around. All the curtains are drawn, so it's black as night inside. I don't look back at Clarissa, but I feel her shrink back as I take in the scene and what our son has become.
I flip on the light and stride across the room to Peter’s shout of rage. "Mom! I told you not to come in here unless I gave you permission! Turn off the light!"
I reach behind the enormous screen on the wall and yank out every single plug. The room falls silent, the sound of gunfire ceasing instantly. Peter blinks at me sluggishly against the bright light. He is unwashed, his scraggly facial hair is unkempt, and he's wearing clothes that appear to have been worn for several days.
"When was the last time you showered?" I ask, my nose wrinkling against the smell in the room.
Peter has quickly gotten over his surprise at seeing me and that his game was so suddenly shut down. He glares at me, and I see the hatred in his eyes. Hatred I’ve done nothing to deserve.
"Why are you waltzing in here and pretending to care about me now? Are you trying to act like a father now? Are you looking past me to take my place?"
Clarissa gasps from the doorway; I might be Peter's father, but even she knows you don't talk to me like that.
But for once I ignore him. I'm not here for this, not today.
"Leah is missing," I state. "So is her daughter and her best friend. They're in danger. What do you know?"
"What, you think I kidnapped them myself? Like I can do anything with these useless, fucking things?" He waves at his legs, disgust curling his lips.
"I want to know what you know.” My voice drops. Most men understand that means they need to start talking, and quickly. My son is either too naive, too uninformed, or too stupid to comprehend.
"I’m not telling you a fucking thing," he spits. “Why do you even care?”
"Because someone is in danger," I growl. "Someone who used to care for you. She’s innocent in all of this, and so is her daughter and her friend."
"Like hell they are! Leah couldn’t get what she wanted out of me, so she moved on to you. She's a gold digger, and you fell for it. Now she has you by the balls because she’s having a kid. You think you're so high and mighty, but you fell right into that bitch's trap."
My son grins, a nasty expression that speaks of triumph."She deserved it for leaving me. She went after a bigger fish because Iwasn't enough for her, so she's getting exactly what she deserves, she and her bitchy friend and her whiny, little kid."
I grab Peter by the collar of his shirt so fast, I don't think he knows what’s happening. I lift him out of his seat and throw him down on the ground. He stays there, struggling to catch his breath and scramble to sit upright. I use my knee to press him back against the end of his bed none too gently. His hands scrabble at my shoe, leaving scratch marks in the soft, polished leather. He doesn't stop until I'm cutting off some of his air.
"Do you want to try that again? "
Peter's eyes are large and frightened as he gapes up at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"What are you doing?" he gasps. "I'm your son."
"You keep telling me I'm not your father. That I abandoned you. You keep treating me with disrespect and telling me what a terrible father I was when you never let me in. You or your mother. All you wanted from me was my money. So I'm going to take you up on that now, and you're going to see how I treat those who aren't family."
I see the fear in my son's eyes. Good.
"You tell everyone you have a mob boss for a father, but you don't know what that means. Now you're going to find out."
I glance back to see Clarissa in the doorway and expect her to tell me to stop, to remind me he's my son, no matter the fact that she turned him against me and kept me out of his life. But again to my surprise, her expression is implacable. I see the woman who I once thought would be such a goodpakhanshaby my side.
I kneel, replacing my knee with my hand before Peter can move. He gasps again. My son might know who and what I am, but he has never seen this side of me. I’ve never let him see it. But he’s shown his true colors, and I’ve lost my respect for him. Now my concern is for Leah.
"You're going to tell me what I want to know, or you're going to find out exactly what I’m capable of."
"You can't do this to me! I'm your son!" Peter's voice is high and whiny, and I despise the begging tone. I take out a knife from my pocket, and his eyes go to the blade as I flip it open. "I don't know where she is." His voice is high, his face paling in fear. "I have no idea. He didn't tell me where he was taking them or what he was going to do with them."
