Page 97 of Family Affair
“Got it. We’ll have to do full damage control. Abe’s good at this, and I’ll talk to Father. You handle Ward, the saintly bastard.”
Frank was shaking his head before Cade finished talking. “The best damage control is for me to stop what I’m doing. Just stop. Enough is enough, Cade. It can’t go on forever. You know it can’t.”
Cade laughed, a low, bitter sound. “You don’t get it, do you? You can’t stop. This pyramid has been put in place, and a lot of people are involved. They won’t let you stop. Didn’t you learn your lesson?”
Frank fell back a step. “Don’t you have enough money?”
“It isn’t about me. It’s bigger now than just you and I and dad. We’re neck deep, and there is no going back. And I’m in this fucked up mess right there with you, brother.”
Frank rubbed his forehead. He felt nauseous and disoriented. He was sinking, and there was no one who would reach out and pull him to the surface.
“It’s about to blow up in our faces,” he said softly. “We’re fucked either way.”
“Don’t,” Cade took a step closer and spoke right into Frank’s face, “you dare turn tail now. Everyone depends on you.”
Frank found it ironic. “I never asked to be everyone’s bedrock, you know.”
“I know.”
“I wish I never took up art lessons with that queer Mr. Noff.”
“I know.”
“You don’t, Cade. You really don’t.”
“Just for the record, I hate it too. And I especially hate being dependent on you.”
“Why? I don’t fuck up where it matters.”
“You’re a wild card, Frank, and I never know when you decide to implode. You’ve never placed any value in our family’s name. You never cared.”
Cade’s words would have stung if Frank didn’t find them so wildly funny. “I never cared, huh?”
“No.”
Frank laughed. “Fuck you.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
It was a juvenile impulse, and he really shouldn't have given in, but he let it happen. Laughing still, he reached behind him and took a large abstract painting - another one of his - off the wall and slammed it on Cade’s head. Taken by surprise, Cade didn’t have time to react.
The canvas tore from the force of his blow, and Cade’s head popped through.
“Don’t like to keep a low profile? Here’s your publicity!” He slammed his fist in Cade’s face.
“I’ll fucking kill you, unbalanced prick!” Cade roared once his head came back from the blow. His lip split and blood streamed down the side of his mouth.
He charged Frank who was way too sluggish to win any matches today, but the painting around his neck helped a lot by restricting his freedom of movement. Like a dog in a cone, Cade kept butting into Frank with the frame, cursing and swinging. Every time he tried to get it off, Frank used the opportunity to attack, making it impossible for Cade to remove it.
Finally, Cade kicked him in the stomach hard enough to rob him of breath. He backed up, recovering, Cade jumped him, and they crashed against a temporary wall, destroying it, falling on top of the crumbled partition in full view of the distinguished crowd.
Someone gasped. Cameras went off in a flurry of flashes.
Frank didn’t care, too taken with his task of pummeling Cade as hard as he could. It felt great actually, this physical outlet. He was getting it good too, and the pain of the blows he caught helped eclipse the pain deep inside. It distracted him from his inner turmoil, from the confusion of knowing what was right and what he had to do, from the impossible choice between love and self-preservation. He took it all out on Cade.
“Enough!” his father’s thunderous roar penetrated the haze of adrenaline.
Someone strong took him in a choke hold and broke up the fight. Cade rolled over and finally ripped the ruined frame off his neck. Coughing, he staggered to his feet.
