As I glanced at the restaurant again, I realized Pearl was gone. I cursed under my breath and walked in the direction of her apartment.
Fuck it. This ends now. I'm going to end this stupid fight. I'm going to say the words, and I’m going to do whatever it takes until she takes me back.
I love you, Pearl. I love yo?—
My phone started vibrating with a message from Jax. It was a picture of my father at a bar, not far from where I was.
I could go get my girl or end this thing with my father once and for all.
Selfishly I wanted to go get Pearl and forget the rest of it. But for Pearl’s sake, I needed to get rid of him fast. His threat was still hanging over our heads, and I knew he could hold a grudge. It was just a matter of time before he came for us.
“Damn it all,” I grumbled and placed my phone back in my pocket before heading in the opposite direction. One look at the app told me the bodyguards were on the job and she was safe.
I would deal with this one nuisance, and then nothing would stop me from getting my girl.
They’d been waiting for me. As soon as I showed up, the guy at the front recognized me and let me in.
Even in the daytime, there were patrons inside drinking, a few dancing. The crowd wasn't small.
It worked in their favor. As I weaved through the people to follow the man leading me to the stairs at the back, all I could think was that they would all be witnesses if I tried to kill my father here. Plus, there were more than a couple of men with their arms crossed and guns at their belts, staring at me.
I was shown to a private room a floor above the bar. The music pounded through and would drown out anything that happened up here. Meaning, I was all alone.
If I’d been worried about my father killing me, I might have felt a little bit of fear, but I was too angry for that.
He was a sorry excuse for a human being who had hurt me, but he had threatened Pearl now, and that was the final nail on his coffin.
Part of me knew this wasn’t normal. Most people didn’t dream of killing their fathers. But then again, most people didn’t live through what I had. Hadn’t had their youth painfully molded or been traumatized by someone who regretted ever having a child to begin with.
Every time he beat me up for simply existing, and then late at night when I was alone, I would fantasize about bringing him to his untimely end. Not then, because I was too small and too weak to do anything, but as I grew older, that idea grew with me.
The only reason I didn't do it was because I didn't want to be put in foster care, which would be the best-case scenario if I got away with it, and if I went to jail, I would never see Pearl again.
Most of the time, she was the only thing that made my days bearable by simply being at school and walking by.
That and… Maybe a small part of me wanted to prove to myself that Iwasn’tlike him. That I never would be.
But all of that went up in the air when he threatened what was mine.
As I walked inside, my father was there waiting for me, sitting on a leather couch smoking a cigar with an empty glass in his hand. He was wearing an ill-fitting suit that looked like it needed to go to the dry cleaners. To his left was another man, a gun strapped to his belt.
Try as he might to present himself as well-connected and put-together, the little things were starting to show.
His greasy hair. His dirty suit. The sweat on his face. His disheveled hair and beard.
“A little extra extravagant, even for you,” I commented as I sat on the couch in front of him. It was old and smelled like smoke and something I guessed was probably booze or blood, maybe both.
“Lots of things have changed since I went to prison,” he said, giving me a smile that showed his once rotting teeth now covered with gold.
“I looked into that, actually.” I crossed my legs. “According to prison records, you're still there. No sign of a jailbreak, and yet no one there has seemed to realize that the person in your cell actually isn't you.”
He let out a laugh, those shiny teeth gleaming in the overhead lighting.
How he had become so rich and connected during his prison time was beyond me, but it wasn’t that surprising. No, my father wasn't just an annoying, violent drunk anymore, but he was still a slimy bastard who would take advantage of anyone and everyone around him.
“Is this your attempt at blackmailing me?”
“Not at all,” I replied, my eyes shooting to the man on his left, who shifted his hand a little bit too close to his gun for my liking. “Just an observation.”
