Page 66 of Roma Queen
“Look, if you don't believe me, go inside and ask that snotty bitch behind the counter what we spoke about. I described you to her in minute detail, down to the asshole expression you're always wearing on that stupid face of yours. I can't say she'll be happy to see me again, but I'll go back in there and prove it to you if I need to.”
All right, fair enough. Patrin might be a douche bag, and we’ve always been at each other's throats, but I have never known him to break a promise. By voting for me last night, he basically swore to serve me and pledged his loyalty to me. Itisunlikely he’d go running to Shelta like this.
“Why the hell leave the clan at all, Patrin?”
“Archie and I came to find you. Cleo had a bad feeling. And besides. You made me a promise the other night, Motherfucker. Thought it might be best if I came now and cashed in on that before you ended up dead in a ditch somewhere.”
Fuck, I did make him a promise, and he’s never going to let up until I deliver on it. Luckily, the events of today have transpired in such a way that I've had an idea where Sam and Jamus are concerned. A good idea, at that.
Quickly, I explain what happened with Lazlo back in Rochester Park, and Patrin listens, frowning intensely as I go over the details of Sarah's rescue. Stoic, and stone-faced, Patrin doesn't breathe a word until I'm finished with the tale. “Wait, so yourgadjeshot Lazlo twice, and then proceeded totorturehim?”
I grab hold of him by the arm, snarling as I pull him across the lot toward the Mustang. “If you call her agadjeone more time, I swear to God I’m gonna knock out every single one of your teeth. Do you understand me? You know her name. Next time you call her anything other than Zara, there's gonna be fucking trouble.”
“You’ve known this woman all of five minutes, Pash. I know you’re hot-headed, but this is fucking insane. There’s no need to get yourself this crazy so early in the game.”
“This isnota game.” It’s all I have to say on the matter. My stiff, brook-no-arguments tone must register as a warning to him, because Patrin doesn’t say another word about Zara, either. He remains closed-lipped until I pop the trunk on the Mustang, and Lazlo groans, trying to lurch forward, reaching to snatch a gun from me that isn’t there.
“Ho there, fucker!” Patrin’s already swinging. His fist crashes into Lazlo’s temple, and the bastard’s head ricochets off the side of the trunk, knocking him out cold.
Again, I remember Patrin getting lost in the tunnel again when we were kids, and Lazlo staying back to search for him long after the others returned to the clan. They were alone for hours down there in the dark. I could ask Patrin what happened while Lazlo had him down in that bunker, but it’d be a shitty thing to do. Patrin would never admit the truth for fear of appearing weak, and probing to see if he was sexually assaulted as a boy will only make him madder at me than he already is.
I see the expression on his face, though, the dark, raging glimmer in his eye, and his body language tells a story all of its own. He radiates hatred as he reaches into the trunk and scoops Lazlo out, like the fully-grown man weighs nothing at all. “Better get him into the room before someone sees,” Patrin grunts.
“This parking lot’s a revolving door for dead bodies. I wouldn’t worry too much.” But he’s right, though. It’d be less than ideal if we were spotted lugging a bloody, bullet hole-riddled corpseintothe motel. Doesn’t matter that Lazlo isn’t actually dead. Not yet, anyway. The staff here probably keep their heads down and feign ignorance as long as the bodies are headed the other way, off the premises. They might be more likely to call the cops if they think that trouble’s brewing this early in the night.
I’ve readied myself for one of Shelta’s frosty, glacial, frankly hostile greetings, but when she opens the door and sees Lazlo slung like the piece of trash that he is over Patrin’s shoulder, the panicked sob she lets out fuckinggutsme. I’ve never seen her look so worried. Never. The bitch sat through my father’s entire funeral without so much as bothering to fake a little melancholy, and here she is, open-mouthed, hair wild, terrified out of her wits when she sees Lazlo on death’s door. “Oh my god! What happened? What have youdone?” she screams.
I assume she’s going to hurl herself at me and pound on my chest with her fists, but she flies to Lazlo instead, cradling his head in her hands, bending down to get a better look at him. When she sees the hole in his hand, she looks like she’s about to pass out.
This woman is not my mother. She’s nothing like her at all.
“Get him inside, Pat,” I order. Shelta doesn’t look like she’s going to let us into the motel room, but Patrin doesn’t give her the choice. He barges past her, making it clear that he’s going to steam roll right over her if she doesn’t move, so she backs into the room, her hands clutched together in front of her chest.
Patrin dumps the unconscious man on the closest of the motel room’s two double beds and grumbles unhappily to himself when he sees that his jacket is stained with blood.
“Get out. You need to leave. Right now!” Shelta shrieks. “I’m calling the police!”
“Thegadjepolice?” My voice is thick with mock surprise. “Now why would you go and do something like that, Mother? This is a Roma matter. This should be dealt with by akris.”
“He’ll be dead by the time we can form akris, you idiot. You shot him in—oh my god, you shot him in thechest?”
“That’s actually his shoulder,” Patrin offers helpfully. “He’s got a good few hours left in him yet, if he doesn’t bleed out.”
“He needs an ambulance.” Shelta’s already on her way across the room, heading for the nicotine-yellowed Bakelite telephone on the nightstand; I step in front of her, blocking her path. “What are you doing, Pasha? Get the hell out of my way.”
“You…are a fucking hypocrite of the highest order,” I seethe.
“Oh, not now, for Christ’s sake. Can’t you see a man is dying?”
“He can go right on ahead and expire for all I fucking care. I’m almost hoping he does, just so I don’t have to live with the knowledge that he’s still drawing breath. I came here so I could eradicate any doubt in my mind. See, I couldn’t forcethisto make any sense.”
“Pasha,please.”
I open my mouth, about to begin hurling the questions I came here to ask her directly into her face, but…
…there are tears streaking down her face.Realtears. I didn’t even know she was capable of fake ones. The wind in my sails gutters and dies, leaving me suddenly adrift. All of the things I wanted to ask her…none of them matter anymore. Not a one of them. Idoalready have the answers I’m looking for: yes, she loves him. Yes, she hurt her sister, just so she could have him to herself. Yes, she chose him over me that night, when I found him ripping Leo’s underwear down his legs, grunting like a desperate, hungry man. It’s all true. So why even fucking bother with all of this?
I realize all at once that this serves no one. She’s always been a terrible mother. Confronting her with her crimes will accomplish nothing. I release the breath I’ve been holding, and I just…I let it all go.
