Page 66 of Dominance

Or maybe I would have been in my twenties, with my family.

It’s always been part of our culture and our family to indulge a little bit and have fun.

But these are … different.

Darker.

Like the people there have some demons to exercise. Dark desires to purge. And the longer the party goes on, the more depraved it gets.

When he gets back from LA, it’s a full-on bash. A borderline riot.

He rented out an abandoned, incomplete skyscraper.

Every floor is another theme.

Celebrities, politicians. The guest lists are gold-plated.

And Dom is in rare form.

Full-blown mania.

“You fuckers can’t even begin to understand what I’ve done, what I am about to do!” he shouts, chugging from a bottle of insanely expensive liquor.

Gloria and I wandered for a while, floor to floor. Taking in the sights. Making an appearance for anyone who might expect to see us there. But over the past few weeks, I’ve also noticed a thinning of the herd. The old guard is getting swept aside.

Bit by bit.

Or they are pulling back.

“Dom! Get the fuck off the table!” I holler, shaking my head to clear the light buzz I should have avoided.

“Dad!”

“Gloria! You came!” And suddenly he’s congenial, jolly.

“Come on, Dad. Why don’t you take a lap, get some water.”

“Oh, you my mommy now?” he mocks, laughing. But there’s an edge to it. Like always.

Taking another deep chug, he sprays booze like a fountain across the dance floor, tossing his head back. “Woo!”

Which tells me something went wrong on his last trip.

He’s been cagey about who he’s meeting with.

I know the mob out west wanted in on his power plays. Wanted some of the spoils from him tossing out Vito, other heads of industry. There are always major exports to bid on.

But LA …

This trip was different.

And he’s off the fucking wagon and raging.

The only thing that sets Dom off like that is failure. Resistance. Refusal.

“Why is he doing this?” Gloria asks no one in particular, and I feel her irritation. Her desire to leave.

I want to go too.

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