Page 58 of Trusting Blake
“Ruben.”
“Stop fooling around. What have you done with their driver’s licenses?”
“I just told you,” I say. “Perhaps they misplaced them somewhere?”
We stare at each other in a tense standoff till I break it with an aggravating grin. I almost giggle and that sends his temper skyrocketing, his nostrils flaring as a fury consumes him. Ruben gets angry, sure, but he usually knows when to reel it back. He’s always been professional; mannered and icy. Now, however, he is like a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum when he can’t get his way. He moves to the dresser first, pulling open drawers and rifling through each one, only to slam them shut again when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. There’s no luck in my bedside table drawer either, so he starts raiding my purses. It’s totally inappropriate for him to be going through my stuff like this, but I sit back and let him lose his mind for sheer entertainment value anyway.
I yawn and pretend to examine my nails, pushing back the cuticles while he flies off the handle. I only look up when I notice he’s found my wallet. He pulls out dollar bills, throwing them on the floor, and tosses my Dunkin’ Donuts loyalty card onto the bed in disgust. Eyes fierce, he storms over and thrusts the empty wallet in my face.
“Mila,whereare the IDs?” he hisses.
Again, I shrug. “Who knows?”
Ruben lunges. He grabs my arms and pulls me to my feet as my breath catches in my throat. Holding me steady in front of him, his fingers tighten around my forearms and his nails dig into my skin. He brings his forehead level with mine and glares furiously into my eyes. I pull away as much as I can. It is the first time I have ever, ever felt truly fearful of him.
“What the hell?”
Dad bursts into the room and in one fast movement shoves Ruben away from me, grasping my arms. He runs his eyes over the scratches and the redness from the pressure. His shocked eyes lock with mine, and then he turns.
“Ruben!” he snarls. “What the hell are youdoing?”
Ruben backs away, flustered, and points at me. “She’s hidden your ID! She’s playing us all for fools!”
“I don’t care!” Dad snaps, closing the distance between the two of them and pressing his chest against Ruben’s. Their faces only inches apart, Dad warns in a low, frightening voice, “You don’t ever lay a hand on my daughter.”
“I know, I know,” Ruben relents, attempting to retreat. “It won’t happen again. Mila, I can only apologize.” But Dad sticks to him like glue until Ruben is backed up against the wall. He is always so bold and confident when he’s the only one in charge, but I notice that he’s not so brave around Dad. He tucks his shoulders in, seemingly aiming to make himself smaller. “I was simply asking her to pack her bags.”
“Bags be damned,” Dad spits. “You’re right it won’t happen again. In fact, you can packyourbags. You’re fired.”
“Now, now, Everett, let’s not be hasty,” Ruben says, but the panic in his voice is unmistakable.
Dad puts his hand on Ruben’s shoulder. “I said you’re fired. Why are you still here?”
“Everett, c’mon!” Ruben pleads, gently shrugging away Dad’s grip. “I’ve worked with you for over ten years! You aren’t just going to throw that away because I raised my voice at your kid, are you?”
“You laid a hand on her!” Dad barks, and I flinch as he curls his hand into a fist. “You have ten seconds to get out of my face before I do something Iwon’tregret, Ruben. Get your stuff and leave. Now.”
Mom rushes into the room, having heard all the commotion. “What’s going on?”
“Ruben is leaving,” Dad tells her, then sets his fierce eyes back on Ruben and begins to count down. “Ten. Nine. Eight—”
“Okay! I get the message,” Ruben mutters, succumbing to defeat perhaps in order to save his nose from being broken. He stomps to the door, but looks back at us with a look of intense betrayal. “You won’t find anyone else in this business who’s as loyal as I am.”
“Luckily, I don’t need a manager for what I intend to do next,” Dad says. “Now go.”
Ruben marches off down the hallway to his guest room, and Dad and Mom both rush to my aid, one at either side of me. Mom cups my cheeks in her hands and examines every square inch of my face in a frenzied state, while Dad takes a closer look at my arms. They are so full of concern, you’d think I’d just been mauled by a tiger.
“I’m okay,” I reassure them. “Seriously. He just. . . grabbed me a little too hard.”
“That man is a disgrace!” Mom says, pushing my hair gently from my face to plant a kiss on my forehead. “He has no right to grab you at all.”
There’s a cough at the doorway, and the three of us look over to find Popeye and Sheri peering around the frame, like they’re afraid to interrupt.
“Did we just overhear you firing that son of a bitch?” Popeye asks, and Dad laughs. A genuine laugh, which I never thought I’d hear from him around Popeye.
“It’s been a long time coming,” Dad says, taking a deep breath. When he releases it again, he is visibly more relaxed, like he’s exhaled the tension out of his body. “I know I’ve made a lot of bad decisions and that Ruben did the groundwork for me, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior recently, and especially not tonight. We’re not a good team anymore, and I wish I’d seen that sooner.”
“So, he’s leaving?” Sheri asks as she enters my room with Popeye by her side.
