Page 16 of Craving Demons
“Can you even afford all of this?” Reia asked.
“I’m going to return the ones you don’t like, it’s fine,” I said. I couldn’t afford it, not yet, but with the new job, everything would be fine. I’d pay off my cards later.
Reia just stared at me like I had two heads. “You’re so irresponsible! I know you can’t afford this, so why would you do it? I don’t even want to go to prom and you’re buying me a wardrobe of dresses. Prom is just another patriarchal scheme to oversexualize young women and show them off to prospective suitors. It’s gross, and I won’t be a part of it. And I can’t believe you’d force me to do it. Just take these back and leave me alone!” Reia had gathered up the dresses as she’d ranted, pushed them into my arms, then shoved me out of her room and slammed the door shut.
I sighed.
Why couldn’t I haveonenormal daughter?
Reia was over-serious and smart and just… beyond me in so many ways. Eva was too much like me and lived to cause me heartache. She hadn’t gone to prom either. Oh, she’d worn a sexy dress and gone out, but had ditched the dance to make out with a guy who was seven years older than she was. Caia also hadn’t gone to prom, she’d been too busy studying and doing all sorts of prep work for her application to Harvard.
Maybe I could go to Reia’s prom as a chaperone or something? I’d never gone to either of my own, and I regretted it now. My junior year, I’d been making out with a guy who was far too old for me. Eva’s apple didn’t fall far from my tree. My senior year… I’d been pregnant.
I took Reia’s dresses back to my room and hung them carefully — I’d return them tomorrow — then flounced onto my bed with a heavy sigh. I just wanted a normal life for my girls, but no. They insisted on being abnormal like me.
This was what I got for having tortured my adopted parents so much.
God, I was a mess. I was so clueless about who I was or what I wanted that I’d filled the void with men and was now doing things for my daughters that they didn’t want.
I sat on the edge of my bed, head in hands, ready to give up on today entirely when the doorbell rang. I rose and made my way slowly down the two flights as the doorbell kept ringing and ringing and ringing.
Whoever this was, they were impatient and annoying.
Donny was still lying on the couch, fast asleep in the back room, so I answered the door.
Two men waited outside. The first had once been a big bruiser of a man, but he seemed more fat than muscle now — though probably still strong enough under all that padding. The second man was lean and spry with a rat-like face and beady eyes.
“Yeah?” I said, not particularly impressed with these two.
“We’re looking for Donny,” the large one replied.
There was something in how he said it, something just a bit threatening, which made me suspicious.
“Who are you?” I asked. “What’s this about?”
The large one smiled. “I’m Lucky Lu and this here” — he motioned to the other man — “is Sammy Softshoe. We’re… collectors of a sort.”
“Yeah,” Sammy piped up. “We’ve come to collect.”
My raging disinterest was quickly replaced with a curious horror. It was clear these two were gangsters here to shake me down, or more accurately, shake Donny down.
ANAIS
“Ah…Donny’s not here right now,” I said, my heart racing. “Can I give him a message for you?” Hopefully, that would make them go away.
Lu’s lips spread over his pudgy face in a wide, unpleasant smile. “Yeah, you tell Donny that Tommy Two-Toes just got out of Sing Sing and he wants his money.”
“Money?” Oh gods, did Donny owe the mob money? I didn’t think he’d ever done anything illegal, but then, I didn’t really know anything about what he’d done. All I knew was his work involved money and investments and that Donny was filthy rich.
Lu answered. “Yeah, the Boss gave Donny fifty mil before going in. Donny was to keep it safe and help it grow.”
“Grow?” God, why was I stuck saying all these inane one-word sentences?
“Yeah,” Sammy said, “Boss did some figuring and, with compound interest or whatever, he thinks his haul should be worth two hundred and fifty mil by now.”
Two hundred and fifty million dollars! Holy Mother of Fuck!
What had Uncle Don gotten himself into?