Page 41 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

She sucks her lips between her teeth, and I swear she pales.

“Is it true?”

“My family has money.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just didn’t bring it up. It’s not important to me.”

“Not important? Well, maybe it is to me.” I spin to stalk off.

“Marcus, wait.” She grabs my arm. “Please, stop.”

The door opens, and several of Sonny’s girls come laughing into the hall. They eye us, then move to the bathroom door a few feet away.

We need more privacy, so I take Brandy’s hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

I lead her to the end of the hall and out the door into the big manufacturing area, then turn on her. “Secrets and lies… they kill a relationship faster than anything on this earth. How are we gonna make this work if you’re not honest with me?”

“What do you want to know?”

“For one thing, why the hell are you working at some bar when Daddy can pay for anything you want?”

She stares at the floor. “I suppose it’s because I don’t want to admit to my father that I haven’t made it, and I don’t want to rely on his money. I want to support myself. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah. It is. Most people would take the easy way out. I imagine the girls I’ve known wouldn’t think twice about it.” It was the wrong thing to say. I knew it the moment it came out of my mouth.

Her brows shoot up, and her chin pulls back. “And how many other girls have there been, Marcus?”

“None since I’ve started prospecting. None. Until you.” That seems to appease her a little.

“What about you? You haven’t told me anything personal. I’ve told you a lot.”

“Well, you left a big chunk out.”

She crosses her arms. “I bared my soul to you about my passion. Now it’s your turn. Tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“Something personal about you.”

I drag a frustrated hand through my hair. “Like what? I’m prospecting for the Evil Dead. What more do you need to know?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Let’s start with your childhood.”

“What about it?”

“Was it happy?”

“Why is that important?”

“God, it’s like pulling teeth with you.” She turns to leave, but I spin her back around.

“Wait.” I suck in a deep breath and exhale. “Okay. Fine. You want to know. It was shitty. My dad bailed on us when I was in kindergarten. The last memory I have of him is standing in front of our door. He made me pose for a first day of school photo. By Halloween, it was just me and my mom. I remember she cried all the time, and I felt like it was my fault. That kind of shit doesn’t leave a kid. Ever. After that, there were a few loser boyfriends. Thank God she never let any of them move in with us.”

“Did you ever hear from your father?”

---