Page 3 of Pocketful of You

"…Your dad wanted me out of the picture…"

"…She knows about the trade…"

What trade?

The trade.

Think, Romi!

"…You can't be in Pocketful after your eighteenth birthday…"

"…They're coming for you…"

The boy.

The boy.

The boy…

"…They're coming for both of you…"

"You killed Chris!" I accused, breathing hard and fast. "You tried to kill Sketch! And Catochi…" Shuddering from the irrepressible memories tormenting me, I shook my head and forced myself to continue, "He works for you." Swallowing another lump in my throat, I squeezed out, "You ordered the hit, didn’t you? Both hits! Those men that shot up the diner? They're the same men you ordered to kill Chris – to toy with him like a cat hunts its prey and strike him down." Narrowing my eyes, I accused, "You're the boss man, aren’t you?"

"You should conserve your energy –"

"Oh, just fucking admit it!" I screamed back at him, body vibrating with terror. "You had Chris killed!" My voice rose as my reality threatened to break me. "Was I supposed to die, too?"

"Chris remembered too much," he replied simply – as simply as if he was reeling off the time. "You, on the other hand, couldn’t remember a thing. Only one of you posed a threat."

"So youkilledhim?"

My father shrugged off my question. "I took care of the problem."

"By having him killed?" I cried out hoarsely.

"By eliminating the threat," he bit out, hands balling into fists at his sides. Chris was a liability. He was a compulsive snoop, too damn smart for his own good, and he got himself killed. Had he stayed out of my damn business, the boy would still be alive, but he stuck his nose where it didn’t belong."

"How could youdothis?"

"Wake up, you little fool," he snapped, his tone morphing into one of anger. "For once in your life, take off those rose-tinted glasses and look around you."

"I don’t –"

"Who do you think I am?" he demanded then. "Who do you think you are?" His eyes darkened with frustration. "Are you honestly this obtuse?"

"You're a murderer," I spluttered, tears trickling down my cheeks.Pain. More pain than I'd ever felt pummeled my heart. "You k-killed Chris."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, I didn’t want the boy to die," he countered impatiently. "He was like a son to me. But he wouldn’t stopdigging." With a sigh, he added, "In our world, you pay for curiosity with your life."

"Inourworld?" I gaped in horror. "There's only one world, Daddy, and the last I checked, murdering people was illegal in it!"

"You're such a child," he said with a tut. "I blame myself for your naivety. Perhaps I sheltered you from the business too much."

"Whoareyou?" Sniffling, I shook my head, unwilling to acknowledge this madness. Desperate for reassurance I knew deep down I would never find, I reached a hand out to touch his cheek before quickly yanking it away. Eyes that had once looked warm and loving were now vacant, unforgiving, and staring back at me.

"The man I call my father isn't…" heartbroken, I gestured to the stranger sitting opposite me with my father's face, "this…monster."

"Then maybe you don’t know your father as well as you think," he replied, condemnation flickering in his eyes. "I'm a very powerful man, Ramona. Of course, you would know this if you opened your eyes just once in the past eighteen years."

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