Page 3 of The Friend Scheme
I’m glad I “forgot” my mask. Dad being mad at me sucks, sure, but I don’t want any real part of what’s about to go down. Even though I’m here. Despite my best efforts to distance myself from this, I’m still an accessory.
All at once, the three of them hurl their Molotovs toward the restaurant’s large front window. Luke misses and hits the wall. There’s a huge fireball, smoke and sparks. Dad’s and Tony’s aim is true, and their bottles go crashing through the glass.
The three of them stand there for a moment, watching, as the fire spreads inside. It happens so fast, and soon, the whole place is alight. Torrents of black smoke stream out the windows. The trio calmly walks back to the car and climbs in. I pull my seat belt on as Dad plants his foot on the gas.
As we speed away, I watch the restaurant burn through the rearview mirror.
The scariest part is knowing the night isn’t over.
A cheer breaks out as soon as we step inside the bar.
I slink to the back of the crowded room and stand in the darkness. Tony goes up to my aunt first and kisses her on the cheek. Dad goes up to Grandma and starts talking to her in a low voice. She glances at me, and my blood goes cold. I really hope they aren’t talking about me and about what I did.
Or, more accurately, about what I failed to do.
Once we were sure we weren’t being followed, Dad drove us out of the city, to a meeting spot on a quiet stretch of road. An associate met us there, waiting inside Dad’s black bulletproof Mercedes. We swapped vehicles, then the four of us drove straight here. It’s a bar called Jimmy’s, and it’s a hangout for the city’s Miller-affiliated criminals. It’s sort of a home base for us.
I pull down on the cuff of my sleeve. Dad’s been meaning to take me shopping for a new suit, but he hasn’t found the time yet. He’s been too busy with war stuff.
Luke makes his way over to me. His suit fits him well, sitting snugly against his broad chest. He’s been working out even morethan normal lately, and he’s freaking jacked now. Dad’s so proud. With his new body, and his hair slicked back, my brother looks way older than nineteen. His face is thin, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline, and his eyes radiate an intensity that always seems kind of desperate. It’s like whatever it is he wants, he wants itreallybad, and he’s willing to do anything to get it. He reminds me of a jackal sometimes. Starving. Unpredictable. Deadly if needed.
Honestly, he looks right at home here. He’d be a golden boy, if my family were into that sort of thing.
My life would be a lot easier if Luke wasn’t so good at the family business.
“What was that?” asks Luke.
“What was what?”
“Your mask.”
I shrug. “You know me, airheaded as usual.”
He rolls his eyes. “Comeon. I know you left it on purpose.”
How does he know?
“I…”
But then he smiles. “I’m just messing with you.” His grin is toothy. Doesn’t feel right. Like he’s doing it for show. He swats my shoulder. “For real, though, don’t be so stupid next time, ’kay? I can’t be the smart oneandthe good-looking one.”
I give him the middle finger. He’s both, and he knows it.
He’s right, thereisgoing to be a next time. And I can’t use this same trick again. One way or another, I’m going to end up as a soldier in this war. Now that I’m seventeen, I’m considered ready to fight. To put my life on the line.
I’m expected to kill.
As far as I know, Luke hasn’t killed anyone yet. But he’s ready for it. He’s told me he’s looking forward to putting “one of those Donovan bastards in the ground.”
I believe him.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” says Luke, walking backward. “Want anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
He spins and walks away, wading through the crowd.
