Page 14 of Scarred Sins
Dad’s rough voice comes from the living room. As per usual, he’s sitting in his chair – the chair that no one else is allowed to even touch. He’s holding a cup of coffee in one hand, taking a sip, and putting it on the small table next to the chair. He barely glances at me before turning his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.
“I want to live my life before I get old,’’ I snorted. Swiftly, I allow myself to take one of his prized possessions – a bottle of his immaculate collection of whiskey. His eyes burn a hole into my back while I pour myself a cup, and then I sit in the chair across from him.
“Are you calling me old, boy?” He asks, tone cranky. “And this better be the last time you’ve touched something that belongs to me without asking. You and your mother are two of the biggest pains in my ass when intoxicated.’’
I laugh. “You are old,’’ I tease. “And don’t worry, I can handle my alcohol.’’
“Right,’’ he drawls out. He folds the newspaper neatly, setting it aside.
“Where’s the little squirt?”
“Aria has volleyball practice,’’ Dad responds, his voice softening. “She’ll be home soon, though. And you better fucking make it up to her. She’s been in a foul mood because you’ve been ignoring her.’’
I wince. “I haven’t been ignoring her, per se. I just have a lot of other things to deal with at the moment. I’ll handle Aria when she gets home.’’
Dad nods in response, and I take a sip from the whiskey.
“Now,’’ I take a deep breath. “We need to start discussing serious matters.’’
He straightens in his seat, fixing his suit jacket and tie, then looks at me, waiting for me to speak more.
“You wanted me back home. I’m home. What’s wrong?”
Dad looks at me, any fondness or content vanishing from his face. He takes off his glasses, putting them on top of the newspapers and taking a deep breath.
“I need you to scout a venue.’’
I frown. “What?”
“Nelson Adams has returned.’’
The glass drops from my hands, shattering on the hard, wooden floor. The glass scatters around, the golden liquid coating the bottom of my pants and shoes. For a couple of moments, I’m unable to focus on what Dad’s saying, my mind preoccupied with the piece of information he gave me, throwing me off guard. All I can feel is anger slowly rising to the surface, my palms fisting to my sides.
“Hey,’’ Dad’s stern voice breaks my train of thought, echoing in the room. That’s when I blink, noticing Mom cleaning up the broken glass and the smeared whiskey. “I need you to focus on this, Arlo. There’s no room for mistakes this time around; do you understand me?’’
“I don’t think you understand,’’ I raise my voice. “That motherfucker dared to show his face again. He fucking dared to show himself again. Yeah, I’m fucking focused on getting a bullet pierced through his skull.’’
“Raise your voice at me again and you won’t get the chance to kill him.’’
His voice may be calm and collected, but the threat under the mask is undeniable. I take a deep breath, lowering my head. The anger still lingers in my veins, preventing me from moving out of the chair. “This is hard on all of us. Especially your mother. I needyoufocused, Arlo.’’
Briefly, my eyes flutter close, and I try to calm down the rapid beating of my heart. Mom is next to me, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly, all while trying her best not to cry from the sheer fury she’s feeling.
“I’m sorry, Mama.’’
She shakes her head and places a kiss on top of my head. “She was your aunt, too.’’
My eyes open, and I return the attention to my father.
“What’s the plan of action?”
“Now, we figure out how to take the bastard down, once and for all. And find the other motherfucker.’’
“Where’s Nelson now?” I ask.
Dad’s jaw visibly clenches, and Mom freezes in the spot next to me. The air around us thickens, and I’m already dreading the answer. The two of them are having a silent conversation, one I’m not a part of, just by looking at each other.
“He’s running for the mayor of New York.’’
