Page 23 of Rake

He’s grateful to be let into this club with me, and it feels perverse. It’s amusing to think of how Hamish could obliterate this kid, though he wouldn’t. No kids: it’s part of Hamish’s code. Still, P.J. could destroy him. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.

He stares at me for a few long seconds. He still isn’t completely sold. His pretty sister doesn’t have strange men showing up at their house too often, then.

“I can’t claim to know your sister very well. But she doesn’t like asking for help. I’d like to get her a new phone and cover her medical bills since she fell outside my place. Will you be okay until tomorrow?”

The wrathful look he gives me is excellent. People who act in anger generally make terrible judgment calls. Like trusting me, for one.

“I’ll be fine. Tell Sasha I’m fine. Just have her text me after you get her the phone. Does she need anything? Clothes and stuff?”

Oh, I would love to meet her father. Get more ammunition.

“That’d be great. Can you show me to her room?”

“Yeah. My dad’s awake, though, so you’ll understand why she’s worried.” He shrugs.

“I’m Finn, by the way,” I say, offering my hand. He shakes it firmly. This kid is ridiculous.

“Benjamin. Come with me.”

He takes me in through a side entrance. The storm door is coming off the hinges and bangs shut with an ungodly noise as we pass through the interior door.

“You finish the shoveling already, boy?”

Sasha’s father is a sight to behold. He’s in a filthy patchwork recliner wearing a Bruins jersey with holes in the chest, tufts of gray hair poking out. Though it’s only close to eleven am, a beer rests on his aptly named beer gut, which folds over ratty sweatpants frayed at the hems. His feet look more like hooves sticking out of the end.

It’s hard to believe this man fathered either Sasha or Benjamin. He sees me in the doorway and sneers.

Sasha hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d called him a loser.

“Who the fuck are you?” he slurs.

“He’s a friend of Sasha’s,” Benjamin says. “She’s staying with him for now.”

“Good for her.” He waves his beer at me. “Maybe you can offer her something better than a few days in the ICU. Told her organizing is men’s work.”

If it’s men’s work, then why isn’t he doing it? Disgusting.

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m pretty sure our delicate little princess is still a virgin. I knocked her mother up before she was old enough to drink so she doesn’t get that virtue from her. Still, you’re going to want to hit that before those rich guy’s goons come back and finish the job.”

Benjamin surges toward his father, and I hold him back.

“He’s not worth it,” I say softly, as if I’m talking to my teenage self. “Don’t sink to his level. Just get the fuck out and take Sasha with you.”

I’m surprised to hear myself say it.

“Awwww,” her father says. “Tough guy. Don’t worry, Benji. I only hit her when you’re not here. She should thank me. It probably prepared her for getting her ass handed to her back in July.”

Jesus Christ. This man is a monster. I try not to think about what that makes me. With an effort, I keep my hand on Benjamin’s chest and push him toward the stairs.

“She told me you’re going to school for engineering?”

His eyes are hazel too, though muddier than hers.

“Benjamin!” I snap.

He focuses his attention on me.

“Yeah,” he says, blinking the tears of rage from his eyes. “Engineering. Fuck. I didn’t know he still hit her.”

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