“Come in through the front next time,” he sneered, turning to a stack of papers on his desk. “Save me some money on medical bills.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, but he had already moved on, shuffling through the papers as though I wasn’t there.
Richters always stick together. When I had been a kid, that saying had seemed like the most hypocritical thing in the world. What use was looking out for your family if your family was just going to turn around and hurt someone else?
But with Jim fresh in my mind, I found a whole new resonance. It wasn’t just that he seemed to be gay, although it broke my heart to think of him growing up in that homophobic family. Jim was being raised by some pretty awful men, and I had no doubt they were teaching him the worst kinds of lessons. He needed someone to guide him and show him there was a different way. Otherwise, he’d end up just like me, self-destructive and angry. Or even worse, like Uncle Elmar.
I strolled back through the hallway, the thugs I had thrown to the ground earlier ignoring my eye contact. They must have gotten word that I was a Richter, and none of them would be foolish enough to upset the hierarchy.
When I stepped back into the sunlight and returned to my motorcycle, a wave of determination came over me. There was probably still a goon watching Malcolm’s building, although from the way my uncle talked about things, he seemed as clueless as ever. Nothing had really changed with our situation, but one thing was different.
I was ready to return to the city and to face my responsibilities head-on. And for that, I owed Malcolm and Gunner a huge debt of appreciation.
