Page 62 of Reckless At Raleigh High
On the other side of the altar, the name given to the bar by the Rock’s most loyal patrons, Paulie the bartender blanches at the very sight of me, the glass he just dropped lying in pieces on the polished mahogany in front of him. “Alex,” he says nervously. “Where’ve you been, man? Monty was planning on sending out a search party soon.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet he was.” It really was only a matter of time before Monty came looking for me. I’ve relied on his arrogance up until now, knowing that the bastard expects me to come crawling to him for forgiveness, but that plan had a shelf life. At some point, he would have gotten tired of waiting and sent someone out to drag me back here by the scruff of my neck like the misbehaving stray dog that I am.
“He know you were planning on swinging by?” Paulie’s voice is abnormally high-pitched. He’s freaking the hell out because he likes me, he’s a friend, and he knows I’ve just strolled on into the lion’s den without a thought as to what was going to happen once the door swung shut behind me.
But I have given it thought. Plenty. I know exactly what I’m gonna do, and how, and Monty’s gonna sit there like a good little boy and listen to me while I speak. “Don’t worry, dude,” I tell Paulie. “I got this covered.”
I head for the door through to the back, but Paulie calls out after me. “Hey, hold up. You’re probably gonna need this.” He moves quickly, sloshing some amber liquid into a glass, which he slides down the bar toward me. The shot glass comes to a stop a foot away. I down the raw tequila—theputs-hairs-on-your-chestkind—wincing at the heat that burns all the way down my throat. I then place the glass back down on the bar, upside down.
“Thanks, man.”
“I’d say yell if you need me, but…”
I smile tightly, nodding. Yeah, I’m on my own with this one. There’s nothing Paulie can do for me without getting his ass fired or shot. “No worries. Like I said. I’ve got this covered.”
Unusually, the door to Monty’s office is yawning wide open, throwing light out into the dark corridor. I stop in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, watching with mild interest as Monty scrambles around on his hands and knees inside, looking for something on the floor. He goes rigid when he sees my Stan Smiths in the doorway. Without hinging back, he laughs gruffly, letting his head hang down between his shoulders. “Wondering when you were gonna develop some balls,” he says. His voice is light but also edged with acid. When he sits back, he’s brandishing a dagger-sharp smile that makes me wish I’d brought a knife with me, too. He gets to his feet, whatever he was looking for on the floor forgotten about. “Come on in, kid. We’ve got some stuff to talk about, you and me.”
I hate that my heartrate kicks up a notch. Thankfully it doesn’t show on my face or the way I hold myself. I developed the ability to hide my thoughts and feelings a long time ago, when I was just another unwilling participant in the foster care system. I sink down on the chair I always sit in, opposite Monty’s. The old man watches me like a hawk as he takes a seat himself. So fucking stupid. I could have caved in the back of his fucking skull while he was scrabbling around on the floor just now if I’d come here for that.
“I gotta say, I’m a little hurt, Alex.” He leans an elbow against his desk, propping his chin up on a fist. He looks like a bored student, only half paying attention in class. “You and me…I thought we were friends.”
I slouch back into the chair, shoving my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. “That makes two of us. Looks like we were both wrong, huh?”
Monty pulls a sour face. “What the hell’sthatsupposed to mean? You forget…I helped you, kid. I made sure you weren’t dumped in another foster home. I gave you a place to live, didn’t I?”
“Sure. But you didn’t do it out of the kindness of your heart. You saw an opportunity and you took it.” I rub a hand at the back of my neck. “That first day, when I asked you why you were helping me, you said you owed my father a debt and helping me was how you were gonna settle it. I guess you were telling the truth, but when you said debt, you really meantrevenge, didn’t you?”
Monty’s eyes narrow to slits.
“Giacomo fucked you over. He left you to rot in prison while he disappeared off to Mexico or wherever and got fat on good food, booze and women. So, when you saw his son was close by, within reach, and you could just reach out andtakehim…” I cant my head to one side, arching an eyebrow. “Feel free to stop me if I’m getting any of this wrong.”
Monty flashes me his teeth. “Costa Rica.”
“What?”
“Costa Rica. While I was rotting in prison, your dickless father was living it up in Costa Rica. Did he tell you he got married again? I’m not a hundred percent on the dates, but I’m pretty sure your mother was still alive then. I s’pose Jack figured if he was in a different country then getting a divorce wasn’t really important.”
My hatred for Giacomo was a bottomless well before. I didn’t think it could get any deeper. Turns out I was wrong. Hemarriedanother woman, while my mother was still alive? Fuck’s sake. Marshalling my expression, I make sure Monty doesn’t know that this little piece of information has affected me as much as it has. “So, Jack was a thousand miles away, getting laid in the sun. When you got out of prison, he was still in the wind. And then I show up out of the blue, like some sort of gift-wrapped godsend, just begging for you to swoop in and manipulate me, getting me on side. What was the plan, Monty? Were you gonnastealme? Was I supposed to worship you like the father I never had? Or was I supposed trust you implicitly, think you only have my best interests at heart, and then you were gonna drag me in front of Giacomo and plaster my brains all over his living room wall, just to spite him?”
Monty laughs, shrugging carelessly. “Honestly, I didn’t really give it that much thought. I suppose I would have done whatever hurt your father the most. Trouble is, Giacomo found out you were working for me pretty quick. And…I’m gonna let you in on a little secret now. Just between you and me, okay?” He cups his hand around his mouth, leaning closer to me, whispering like we’re co-conspirators. “He didn’t really care.”
Now, this? This isn’t a surprise to me. I don’t need to master my emotions this time, because it’s no less than I expected. Yes, Giacomo wants to steal me back from Monty now. Whatever half-baked plan he’s cooking up to start his own chapter of the Dreadnaughts involves me in some way, but it isn’t because my father cares about me. It’s because he needs something from me. I haven’t figured out what that could be yet, but I’m sure it’ll become obvious sooner or later. He’s probably got a cerotic liver and he needs half of mine, for Christ’s sake. If that’s the case, then he’s gonna be sorely out of luck. I wouldn’t piss on that man if he was on fire. “If you’re expecting me to burst into tears, then I’m gonna have to disappoint you,” I say, rocking back on my chair. “Don’t you know me by now? I couldn’t give two shits if Giacomo didn’t break his neck in his race to Raleigh to come save me from you.”
Monty thinks about this. He scratches at his chin, worrying at his stubble. “Let me ask you something, Alex. You think that girlfriend of yours would look pretty sliding up and down a pole out there? I prefer my girls to be a little curvier, but your Silver’s got that doe-eyed innocent look about her.” He pauses, waiting for my reaction. I’m willing to bet he’s already getting ready to yank open the top drawer of his desk so he can grab the gun that he keeps there. I’d be a fool to explode on him, even if his question has got my blood simmering. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I meet his gaze, adamant that I won’t be the first to look away. “You have a lot of stupid people working for you, Monty. Like…a lotof stupid people.”
Bemused, he taps his index finger against his desk. “Is that so?”
“I think you like ’em that way, to be honest. Stupid people don’t think for themselves. They don’t ask questions, because they’re too dumb to think of them. They don’t plan ahead, either. Me, though…I’m not stupid. I have plenty of questions, but I’m smart enough not to ask them. I compile them, one after the other after the other, and I spend a considerable amount of time hunting down the answers on my own time. And yeah, I plan ahead. Way, way, way ahead.”
My hand is already closed around the thumb drive in my jacket pocket. Slowly, I take it out, laying it down on the desk in front of me, keeping my hand pressed down on top of it.
Monty waves his hand in a derisive gesture. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“This is a record of every time you’ve ever asked me to do something for you. Dates. Times. The amount you paid me. The people you asked me to hurt. It’s a pretty damning dossier, really. Or it would be, if it fell into the wrong hands.”
“Ho ho ho, kid. You have no idea how bad fire burns, do you? You play with shit like this and you’re bound to get hurt.” Monty shakes his head, a broad smile taking over his face, his eyes bowed into crescents. He looks at me askance, drilling into me with his faded blue irises, and I can see just how badly I’ve irritated him. “That doesn’t prove anything. You realize that, right? Anyone can make up a list of names and dates.”
“But when those names and dates lead down dark alleyways, to bags filled with blow and smack, things begin to get interesting, don’t they?” I counter. “I’m not sure which department to take this to first. The DEA seem to have taken leave of their minds, but maybe the ATF would be interested in the contents of this thumb drive. Could be the regular cops would like to know this stuff. How many times has the Sheriff come sniffing around this place, looking for something to hang you over?”
