Rogue (In the life of the Rogue Book 1) (13 page)

“But I love you,” she mumbled.

“I told you that you shouldn’t.”

“You said you loved me,” she screamed.

“No, I never did.”

I waited for her to cry every single tear she had for me before slipping out of her apartment. It was the wrong thing to do but I had felt so worthless today at my brother’s funeral and after it.

To know someone would cry for me felt good.

Before disappearing into my apartment, Ally’s parents passed me, walking arm-in-arm down the tight hallway. They looked tired, beat up by their jobs that were never going to pay them enough for their troubles. But I could see the determination in their eyes, too. They were doing this for their daughter. They were determined to make her life the best that they possibly could, and for that, I smiled at them and told them to have a good morning.

Stuck in Circles…

What I loved most about my father’s compound was the bars with the free booze. There just wasn’t one bar inside the home, there were several with a bartender waiting, ready to take your order, listen to your problems, nod when you asked a question and laughed when you told a joke. And if you cried, they handed you a filled glass of whatever you were drinking rather than a napkin to wipe your tears.

They were our therispts.

The bartenders knew far more secrects than I did. And I was the one who saw the dirt first hand.

I rubbed my hands over my face and exhaled.

The bartender sat a napkin down. “What you having?”

“Something that’ll make me feel like I took two to the chest.”

“I know just the thing.”

He unscrewed the cap. A glass hit the counter, two cubes of ice dropped inside. My mouth watered as I saw the liquor pour in – dark and thick.

One sip, the burn, the heat rising into my cheeks, and the world felt a little better…and a little sideways.

This bartender had just become my new best friend. And as a show of friendship he just received from me, I decided best not to let him in on the secrect: that the majority of the bodies I had to make unrecognizable before Zander made them disappear was
theirs
.

I re-adjusted the tie around my neck and felt more choked than less. I had to dress to Papa’s liking:
suit, tie, polished shoes, murderous gleam in the eye
.

I hoped Papa would be a little lackluster on the polished shoes and murderous gleam. My shoes weren’t polished, or even nice enough to be polished. And my gleam was anything but murderous. I looked more or less like I had been up all night in a rave. I finally gave into temptation and loosened the tie slightly and felt a rush of air on my bare neck.

Papa took a stool next to me. “It’s a little too early for the sauce.” He lifted a finger, and immediately, a napkin was placed and drink was sat on top of it.

I smiled into my glass. “It’s never too early.”

Papa glared at me, his dark eyes behind his sunglasses glanced down to my neck. “Fix that tie. You have to look presentable in my home.”

I wanted to say that it was now my father’s home but did not; instead, I fixed the tie, tightening it, and was miserable again from the heat as the air was choked off.

Papa lit a cigar. “The girl had a doctor give her the once over after you dropped her off.”

“Something happened?” Fear had crept up so fast that my stomach churned, the liquor souring in my stomach.

Papa waited me out. Maybe he sensed the fear and wanted to let me wallow in it for his enjoyment. “No. Nothing happened. We wondered and now we’re certain she’s still in one piece – still intact.”

His answer barely registered. I was too busy going over that night in the beach house in my mind. I went over every detail, wondering where her safety was in jeapordy. I wondered if I had missed something, blocked it out because maybe I was in shock after killing a man. Did I suppress a detail? Did the events play out differently than I remembered?

Was there a chance that she could’ve been hurt under my watch?

Then it hit me as to why a doctor would need to check Dominique out, and the realization wasn’t pleasant.

My chin hit my chest as my head dropped. “You had her looked at because she was alone with me, didn’t you?”

“Not me, Lulina did.”

I replayed the words over and over in my mind. I tried to understand, tried to make sense. I wanted to chalk it up to the fact that Lulina had every right to worry about her daughter’s safety. No chances taken, no slack given.

And the understanding ended there.

Anger settled into the pit of my stomach and warmed like my drink had just done. Lulina knew me.
Knew me
. I felt she was the only person on this planet that actually saw me. I was many things, many bad things that I didn’t skip over and try to paint myself as a good man who so happened to be on the left hand of God because of the life I was raised in and surrounded by.

Like Zander tried.

It was an ugly go ‘round, but I finally came full circle and settled on one fact: Lulina Wells was no better than my family.

I roughly rubbed my temples, a headache creeping up with the ever promise that when it hit full swing, that any thoughts that managed to slip into my mind would feel like belly dancing in a pool of glass.

Without even realizing it, I loosened the tie around my neck again. “But there wasn’t a scratch on her. Lulina had to have seen that – why the doctor?”

Papa shrugged his shoulders causally. “Maybe she was making sure that the flower wasn’t wilted.”

I didn’t even try to understand what that meant. Papa loved talking in metaphors, and I was too flabbergasted to try and participate – be the good student, think out the problem and answer correctly.

Papa asked: “Who gave you Lulina’s room number?”

Not answering was as bad as answering so I elected to take on the lesser evil. “Lulina met me for a drink before our meeting in your hotel suite.”

“And that’s when she gave you her room number?” He smiled, his eyes lighting up at the possibility that I had spent the night in Lulina’s bed, which I had.

“She’s my sister-in-law, Papa. She’s the closet thing to a mother that I have.”

I could still feel the disbelief in his stare. He let my explanation pass and turned back into his drink. I took a heavy sip of mine, knowing full well that after today I would have to watch my back. All he needed was a sniff in the right direction and he would draw his own conclusion.

Once a wife fucker, always a wife fucker.

And he would be right.

“Sure, Tristan, you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.” And he patted me on the back - roughly. “But we need to talk. I have some good news for you. You’re up for a promotion in the family. You’re not clean by any means but you’re not as dirty either.”

“How tight is the leash?”

“You’re still choking but it’s a longer death.” He smiled at the use of words – metaphors, oh, how he loved them. “You’re still a nigger, Tristan, and Zander ain’t gonna change from being a spick, but despite the dismount you handled yourself in Miami and I want to show you the appreciation.”

He patted me on the back again – rougher, harder, this time – and my shoulder blades began to ache.

“Now you still do the clean up jobs but the bodies are going to thin out. Your father is running a tighter ship on things, and even though we haven’t had any problems on your end, we got sources saying we’re getting looked at for disappearances. So tighten your ship even tighter. I want
you
to tighten it, not Zander, okay?”

He took a sip of his drink, waited me out for a moment then continued. “Your new job will be security. We have our gun shipments in the shipping yard and you’re going as back up. Just you for a while, get the layout, learn the ropes then bring Zander and show him. But, remember, the shipments are your brother’s territory. You do what Ralph say, no bullshit.”

I responded, almost believably sincere, “Why would I want to cause the only brother I have left any problems?”

Papa winced and I smiled.              

The pain flared and passed, and Papa sipped his drink – this time a longer gulp. “This is your last chance to find favor in the family, Tristan. Don’t you dare fuck this up - you do and you’re dead. I don’t mean cut off either like last time, but swimming with the motherfucking fishes like a gang nigger. And I swear on my father’s grave, that I’ll stuff gang colors up your ass and no one will ever know you were one of us.”

I had to fight the urge not to reach in my coat for a cigarette. Papa wouldn’t have it. Inside or out, not in his home that he built with other people’s sweat, blood and tears. Cigars were the desired choice. To him, cigarettes were too cheap; too much like a habit than just smoking for pleasure.

Cigars were for the enjoyment.

Cigarettes were because you had a weakness.

Weak men were dead men in his world.

“Sober up first, Tristan,” he said, “Sober up some before you get the hell out of my house.”

***

Lulina was in my thoughts, over the warm buzz of early morning liquor in my head.

I knew now that my sister-in-law was too dangerous to be around. She saw my life as a game; she moved pawns, played dirty, and bet heavy. She played with my life like she would a lollipop. She would twirl me around, drag her tongue over me and pop me back in her mouth when she missed the flavor. It was a game of circles, a race to see how far you could go, but only to end up right back were you started.

And she had begged me to watch out for her daughter, make sure she was safe, save her if Papa’s hired men had tried to do her harm. And I had done it. I would have given up my life to bend to her wishes.

And in return, she had her daughter check out by a doctor. Not because of the men who helped me get her out, but because she had been alone with
me
.

I was the danger.

As I walked the grounds behind my father’s compound, I pondered the questions that I wanted answered. I wanted to know just what she thought I would do to Dominique. Did she think I would’ve killed her? Did she think I wanted the reigns to my father’s family so bad that I would kill for it?

I stood idly outside my father’s indoor pool. My mind wavered slightly, the drinking striking home. I used both hands to rub my face. The few mangled hours of sleep I had was taking its toll. I didn’t need another drink.

Yet, I wanted one.

The indoor pool’s bartender smiled at me before pushing a glass in my direction, filled to the brim with nothing but liquor and a cube of ice.

I dipped the tip of my index finger inside my drink and swirled it. I watched as the ice cube barely moved, almost as if it wasn’t interested in moving to my speed. I gave up; the finger went into my mouth as my tongue lapped at the drink.

I personally felt that God had made a boo-boo when He had made functioning addicts. My memory was always sketchy. I remembered the bad more than I ever did the good, which was the opposite as to why I drank in the first place.

I drank to forget the bullshit.

If I stopped drinking now, gave up the addiction, most would think I would feel better – be more connected with my surroundings.

But I knew the truth.

When I woke in the morning, sober, my hands shook, my head hurt. One drink and I became normal. The world was happening, spinning, and I was proned – thanks to my friend, Mr. Acohol – not to care, like I didn’t feel the movement of life beneath my feet.

I put the glass to my lips and smiled as I took the first gulp.
My
drinking made
my
world better; one sip, one gulp, and I was terribly stoic to the bullshit that
my
life had to offer.

I was almost to the point where the world was slowly disappearing in a drunken haze.

The haze shifted when Dominique called out to me from behind. “Drinking the moment you opened your eyes, huh, Tristan?”

I swiveled around and there she was, smiling at me in her string bikini. I eased back, my elbows resting ontop of the bar and enjoyed the view of Dominique’s flawless body. Her waist was slender but her hips were filled out and her legs looked strong as if she regulary worked out.

If Lulina should be fearful of anything, it should be at the way I was drawn to her daughter.

I didn’t smile. I focused on Dominique, studying her body, thinking about I would do to it if it was pressed up against me again. I licked my lips and raised an eyebrow. My eyes took it’s time appraising her, starting at her feet and rising to her face.

I loosened my tie even more and gave her a slow smile and let it spread.

Dominique put a hand on her hip. She persed her full lips as her eyes twinkled, as if asking:
do you like what you see?

“No, dear, it’s just his horrible habit he gotten from the men in his family,” Lulina answered Dominique’s question intended for me.

Lulina was sitting at one of the tables set around the pool. Dominique ignored her mother. I did the same. We stared at each other for a long moment.

Dominique mouthed the words: “Miss me?”

I mouthed them right back.

And the question was left unanswered by both parties.

“Come to me, Tristan.” Lulina motioned me over with her own drink in her hand.

I sat with them. Dominique was on my right and Lulina on my left.

Lulina threw an arm around mine and buried a long, wet kiss on my cheek. “You must come and have a dip with us.”

I used the sleeve of my suit jacket to wipe the spit and lipstick off. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

Dominique seized the other arm. “I want you to, Tristan,” she pouted.