Page 26 of End It All

Would I? I wanted to believe that, but everything about my father was a mystery. I trusted my mother, but were there two sides to the story? I didn't know. There were no concrete answers. Instead of diving deeper into it, I simply drank.

"I have a place to stay already," I said.

My father stiffened. "Oh?"

"Yeah. A friend of mine, the guy from earlier."

"Quincy?" he asked incredulously. "You can't be serious. He's a nobody. How do you even know him?"

I didn't, but I wasn't sure I could stay with my father either. He was a man who had way too many secrets and I doubted he was going to come clean about anything anytime soon. I couldn't stand Quincy, but if my father gave me work, I would be able to find a way to get my own place sooner rather than later. All while not living with him.

Even if the words he said made sense, I still didn't trust him.

I didn't know him. Not anymore.

My father stood up and I expected him to be irate. Instead, he poured one more set of shots. "You'll sleep here tonight and go back tomorrow, then. It's late."

I took my glass and nodded. His words weren't a question, they were a demand. If I denied him, who knew how he would react. Instead, I clicked my glass against his, gave him a salute, and threw the shot back. By now, I was buzzing, my vision blurry as I stood up and used the counter to help me keep my balance.

"Do you want me here?" I blurted out. "Like here, with you. If not, I can go."

He grinned and then burst out laughing. "So strong and yet so insecure." He spoke some Italian that I couldn't comprehend. "Of course I want you here. Having a family of my own that I love and who loves me has been all I've ever wanted. You're going to give that to me, I can tell." He slapped my shoulder once more, harder this time so that it stung. "I'm glad you're back in my life."

I stared at him. My father was different than anything I could have imagined. In my mind, I had built him up to be some kind of villain when it turned out he was nothing like that.

Maybe I had gotten it wrong after all these years.

"You can use the guest room for now," he said as he turned on his heels. "If you want something to eat, feel free to come out and take whatever you want. There's plenty."

"Oh. Thank you." I dug into my pocket and pulled out his lighter. "You want this back?"

He looked down and then back up at me. "No, I gave that to you." He closed my hand around it. "I wanted you to have it back then and I want you to have it now." He smiled at me. "Let's turn in."

"O-okay, um..."

"You can still call me dad. You used to."

The thought of calling him dad made my stomach turn. I smiled at him, but it felt awkward and stiff even to me. I wasn't ready to treat him as anything other than a stranger for now. He'd left and abandoned us. How was I supposed to forget that so easily?

I was shown to a room that felt as sterile as the rest of the hotel suite. Dark floors, white walls, white bedding. It was enough to make someone go insane. I dropped my bag on the floor and turned to my father who still stood in the doorway, staring at me.

"Goodnight," I said. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Anytime. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah. Sounds good."

The door closed after he left, and I stared around the room. As I sat on the bed, the unfamiliarity clogged my throat. I wanted to scratch at the walls and get the hell out of there. Instead, I was left in the overwhelming silence. I reached into my bag, lit up a joint, and stared at the ugly hotel art on the wall.

I needed to get out of here. As long as I kept my cool, I could do that. I just had to keep calm.

Three days.It was three days and my father still didn't want to let me go. He'd introduced me as his son to his men which made them fear me in a way that I had never experienced. Everything I could have possibly wanted was given to me. The world was right there for me to grasp.

But I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that permeated my gut.

I got dressed in a new set of clothes that my father had purchased for me. He said all of mine were shit, but I refused to get rid of them. Still, it made him happy when I dressed like him, so I slipped on the button up, slacks, and dress shoes. I fixed my hair in the mirror, pushing it back from my face.

God, I look like a gangster.