Page 59 of Gonzo's Grudge
Dad looked at his hands like he’d never seen them before. “Because I was weak. Because I was a coward. Because I thought the worst thing that could happen was my reputation burning. I was wrong. The worst thing is a man rotting in prison because I was too afraid to stand up to the bully who owns this town.”
Mom’s chair scraped back. She stood, walked to the sideboard, and put both hands on it to keep from falling through the floor. When she turned around, her face was set in a way I’d never seen—a mask cut out of something that wasn’t going to break today.
“And this dinner,” I said, hearing my own voice from very far away. “What is this? A confession because you got caught? Or because”—I glanced, against my will, to the far end of the table—“because you invited him into our home to finish whatever this game is that you both have played with me?”
Dad’s mouth shook. He steadied it with a breath that looked like it hurt. “He didn’t invite himself. I did.” He looked at Gonzo. “He told me the price of his help was the truth. Laid out plain and real. Truth. In this room. In front of both of you. I owe you that more than anything.”
Help. My chest tightened. I stared at Gonzo again. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. He took my scrutiny like a man letting the tide hit him because he knew the rocks behind were stronger than they looked.
“What do you want?” I asked, not bothering to hide the accusation. “From him. From us. From me! You came into my world what is the goal?” I locked my eyes to the man I had allowed to consume my heart. I wanted to hear it directly from him.
“The wrong against my son to be righted,” he stated clearly, simply. “I told you, IvaLeigh, I’m not a good man. I told you in my world, loyalty was everything. My son deserves a free life not some prison sentence and a cloud hanging over his head.”
Dad cleared his throat. He couldn’t find a place for his hands. “I’m giving Devyn—GJ’s attorney—everything. Orders. Emails. Approvals. The memos Hampton dictated that I pretended I wrote. Chain-of-custody for the poison he fed the court. Enough to vacate judgments and blow the doors off this whole mess. I’ve written my recusal and my admission. I’ll file it tomorrow. I’ll tender my resignation to the circuit. If I survive the week, it’ll be a miracle. I don’t expect to. I’m going to be disbarred and disrobed, but I have earned it all with my selfish decisions.”
Mom’s breath hitched. I felt it through the table.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Dad said to her. “I’m asking you to hear me say it out loud before someone else gets paid to say it first.”
“For once,” she whispered. “You’re early.”
He flinched like she’d slapped him. She hadn’t. I wanted to.
“And Hampton Stanley?” I asked, because there was a hole in this confession big enough to drive a fleet through. “What happens to him? He told me I stepped into a man’s war. He told me to run to Paris and play tourist so I didn’t get crushed. What happens to him?”
The room held its breath. Dad looked at Gonzo. Gonzo looked at me.
“The club will handle Stanley,” Dad said quietly.
“No,” Gonzo said, voice a low engine in my chest. “The truth will find and deal with Stanley. We’ll make sure it gets where it needs to go.”
I stared at him. The man was cold, calculated. The other people who warned me, maybe they were right. Catalina had slammed the door and told me he would ruin me. Then Hampton Stanley sat in my room and said I was just a pawn on his board. Every time I closed my eyes, those sentences slid around each other like knives looking for the next part of my heart to stab.
Now he sat in my mother’s dining room and used truth like a weapon he knew how to wield.
I pressed my palms flat on the table to stop them from shaking. This was another part of his game. He wasn’t here for me, that was obvious. “You came here to watch him bleed,” I stated, looking directly to Gonzo. “Or are you here to help him? Or is it that you need him to help you?”
“All of the above,” he stated clearly. Honest. It cut cleaner than a lie would have.
Mom finally moved. She picked up the carving knife, set it down again, and laughed a laugh that broke halfway through. “We are not eating,” she explained in the strangest tone, and then put both hands over her mouth like laughter was a sin she couldn’t afford. Tears pushed through her fingers. She shook her head and muttered, “I set the table for a slaughter of my entire life. What kind of woman does that?”
Dad went to her. She held up one palm without looking and he stopped like she’d pushed him into a wall or she had some voodoo magic power that held him in place.
“Sit,” she commanded, voice shredded but steady. “Finish what you started. Then you can sleep in the study. Or the yard. I don’t care. But you asked me to prepare a meal. You told me Gabriel wanted to join us. I assumed it was to fix what he broke in IvaLeigh. No, the two of you weren’t here to mend anything. So please, while you are shattering the world around us, do finish what you’ve started.”
He sat.
I watched him. Watched the man who had taught me how to tie my shoes and parallel park and keep my voice level even when men talked over me, and I tried to put him next to the man who told things exactly as they were. He warned me. I didn’t listen. The man who raised me sat in front of me as a stranger, the man beside him as an enemy I wished I could forget.. The pieces didn’t fit. They were both wrong and somehow, Gonzo was still right. That was the worst of it.
“Why tell me to run?” I inquired of my father, voice low. “Why did you let him come into my dorm and tell me to get out of town like I was a… a problem you could send to Europe on a scholarship? Why get me out of the way?”
Dad shut his eyes. “I didn’t know he went to you until after. I never wanted any of this near you or your mother. If I would have known, I would have?—”
“You would have what?” I snapped. “Called him and asked him to schedule his intimidation for a better time?”
He swallowed. “I would have met him myself. He doesn’t touch my daughter. This doesn’t touch you.”
“It already did. He already did,” I stated sternly. “With words.” I looked to Gabriel, “and you with your actions.”
