Page 5 of House of Payne
“How are the businesses?” my father asks as soon as he answers the phone, which isn’t surprising. Normal sons might get a, “How are you?” or a, “How are things on your end?”, but nothing about my life is normal, and I’ve come to accept that a long time ago. With that comes a father who couldn’t be any less like the ones on television. In a world like ours, the harder and colder a person is, the better.
My father, the incomparable Jack Payne, is no exception.
He’s spent years being ruthless and single-minded in his pursuit of building an empire, and nothing, not even his sons, is going to get in the way of that. As a young boy, I’d often stare up at him and wonder if it was worth it.
If the price of the life he’d chosen had been too much.
As a man, I know better.
Being on top felt good—great, even—and I’m glad he’s drilled that into me.
“Running smoothly,” I answer, sitting back in my chair, one leg finding its way over the other. I’m exhausted. Father always made everything look so easy. Maintaining several businesses is not for the faint of heart, but it works for me because I saw more in my first decade than most people have their entire lives. I reach across the desk for the decanterof whiskey and pour a generous amount into my glass.
I pause with the glass halfway to my lips. “How’s ‘traveling’?”
He says he’s traveling because he’s getting older, and it might be his last chance to do so, but I know better. He won’t think about death until he’s forced to, which will only be when he’s on his deathbed. I know he’s up to something, especially where my brother is involved. The two together hardly mean anything other than trouble.
My father clears his throat. “It’s fine.”
“Where exactly are you?”
I know I’ve caught him in a lie by the way he pauses, and I know if he were in front of me, he would have backhanded me for doubting him, something he did all the time when I was a kid. Maybe I should resent him, but there are two things my dad taught me to value: Respect and when to keep my mouth shut.
“After all these years, Mason, you still don’t know how to keep that trap shut.” His voice is low and menacing, each word dripping with disdain. “Where I am doesn’t concern you, and you’d do best to remember that.”
My father is a skeptical man who doesn’t trust anyone, not even me. It’s a bit fucked up until you realize he spends most of his days protected and trying not to get killed by his enemies. Betrayal among family isn’t unheard of, and for people like us, family means everything. It brings new meaning to the words, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
I take a long sip of my drink, the bitter liquid trickling down my throat before it settles in my stomach.
“Did you attend that meeting with the Everetts?” he asks. The phone breaks up, and it sounds like he’s going through a tunnel. I want to ask where he’s going, but I already know what he will say, so I keep my mouth shut.
Whatever he’s doing isn’t any of my business.
“Yes, sir.” Leave it to my father to control things even when he’snowhere around. He’s compelled to make sure everything is perfect, a trait I inherited from him.
“And how did it go?”
“They left happy enough.”
He considers my words as if debating whether to berate or praise me. Finally, I can almost hear the smile and pride in his voice. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Have you also gone down and checked on Mercy lately? I can tell you from experience that if you leave it alone for just a few days, you’ll come back to a hell house.”
I like that he still calls the secret levels Mercy because of the small cursive sign left behind by the previous owners, a relic from when the place used to be a hotel and a sanctuary of sorts.
It’s one of the few inside jokes we share.
His words ring true, though. I have, however, grown into my schedule since he’s been gone, and that includes checking out the club frequently and making sure the rules are enforced. “I go often enough that there haven’t been any worries.”
“Mason.” His tone is serious. “It’s imperative that you show me how well you can do this. There will come a time when I step down, and as my first-born son…” I’ve heard this speech a thousand times, and if it were up to him, I’d hear it a thousand times more. “You’re my first choice, but if I don’t feel that you’re capable of handling…”
I grip my glass tighter. “I understand.”
Nothing I do will ever be enough for him.
I shouldn’t be surprised he’s still giving the same tired speech after all this time, even when we both know I’m the most capable of my brothers.
He grunts and goes quiet. He doesn’t like to be cut off, but if he wants me to run the family’s businesses successfully, he should understand that I can’t spend all day on the phone with him. “I expect to be home soon.”
“Everything will be waiting just as you left it.”
