Page 34 of Rake

Jesus, Sasha. Remember that part?

“I’m just embarrassed,” I say. “I look and feel ridiculous, especially next to you.”

He frowns. “You don’t look ridiculous.”

“Come on, Finn,” I sigh. “This is absurd. I’m bad-side-of-the tracks trash wearing shit you probably wouldn’t even burn for fuel and I’m so out of place here.”

He props his hand up on his chin. “You’re not trash, Sasha.”

God I’m going to start crying. I can’t with this man.

“I can’t give you what you want.” The tears pooling in my eyes course down my face. This is strategically a huge mistake, but I don’t know what else to say. I don’t have anything to fight the Carneys with other than my integrity. I can’t give that up. “I’m sorry, Finn. I wish I could take what you’re offering, and you’re right; I’m probably stupid not to. I’ll end up being one of the bodies dredged out of the Mystic when your family finally cleans it. But I can’t give up someone else because I’m afraid.” I put my face in my hands and cry.

I hear Finn leave the table and I fold over, placing my arms on the table and resting my head in them. When I finally get a hold of myself, I see that Finn’s left a box of tissues next to me. The expensive ones, naturally. I try to clean my face as best I can, but I’m red and blotchy. Just another reminder of how different I am from Finn’s cool refinement—I must look so repulsive.

I move to the couch and tuck my knees under my chin, holding on to my sore ankle.

I don’t get up when Finn sits down next to me.

“I wish you would let me help you,” he says.

“Come on,” I sigh. “None of this is for me. You want me to sell someone out to keep your father off your back.” I look up at him. “I don’t know what he has over you, Finn, but is it worth it?”

He flinches. His emotions always reveal themselves in small flashes.

“You don’t understand,” he says, evenly. “And that’s not your fault. But I’m telling you that if you continue your work, continue to defy my father, he’s going to hurt you. And not just you. Your brother too. And eventually, when he finds out who started this, and he will, he’ll hurt that person too. If we stop the unionization now, I’ll do my best to improve staff conditions so they won’t need a union.”

I tilt my head. Jesus, he means it.

“I believe that you would try,” I say. “But when it comes down to it, you’re going to do your father’s bidding, whatever the cost. And if he tells you to fire someone for asking for a raise, you will. The staff need protection from a unit not under your father’s direct control.”

I’m not foolish enough to think James Carney couldn’t infiltrate the union in another way, but there’s a better chance of improvement with the union than without it.

He’s staring straight ahead. I find myself oddly compelled to touch him, but I’m too scared to do it. He’s probably furious with me. For defying him, but also for pointing out how he’s under his father’s thumb.

“I don’t approve of what my father does.” His voice is quiet. “I didn’t know he’d hurt you so badly. And I was disgusted when I found out. I admire your integrity, Sasha, I really do. But you’re making a mistake by fighting him like this.”

Like this? I wonder what that means.

“You’ve never had the chance to do anything but fight,” he continues. “And I don’t want your life to end that way.”

“I don’t either,” I admit. “I’m tired of the constant struggle. I’m tired of having such a small, difficult life. But there are things I’ll sacrifice and things I won’t. And I refuse to sacrifice the people I care about to make my life better.”

Something that looks like pain crosses his eyes, just another flash.

“Okay,” he says. “In that case, it doesn’t make sense for me to try to convince you otherwise. I’ll take you home.”

Strangely I feel like crying again.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t want to make things harder for you either.”

His face is an unreadable mask and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing.

He puts a heavy hand on my leg.

“I was hoping we could work something out,” he says, “but I don’t need you to protect me, Sasha. You need to worry more about yourself and less about other people. I don’t mean that you should become a selfish loser like your father, but I wonder if you work so hard on keeping other people happy because you’re afraid of being alone with your own pain.”

I recoil like he’s hit me. He pats my leg and stands up.

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