With nothing further to say, I turn around and leave my brother to rot in the grave where he’s been for the past fourteen years. In my mind, he is forever young. A seventeen-year-old kid who had his whole life ahead of him before it was cruelly stolen.
My fists clench as I think about the reason that is, the reason both Damian’s and my life changed forever. One simple fucking decision destroyed the lives of so many, but I can’t take it back. What’s done can never be undone, and I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my lousy existence.
But I’ve thrived on that guilt since I buried my brother. Only one thing kept me going on the inside, and that was revenge. And now that I’m out…burn, motherfuckers, burn.
Done with the reminiscing, I wait at the bus stop, not sure when or if I’ll ever return. My parents haven’t visited in a while; my brother’s unadorned grave is a sure sign of this, which is a change from when he first got buried six feet under. My mom would visit every day, and my dad had to pry her away to come home.
But then she was back the next day, crying and cursing the universe that it took the wrong son.
As the bus pulls up, I amble up the steps, sinking into a seat toward the back. Peering out the window, I wonder where my parents are. The last I heard, they were finally getting a divorce. Dad found solace in a woman half his age, and my mom found her happily ever after in her prescription pill bottles.
But I don’t judge. Fuck, I’m the reason their life turned to shit. Before this happened, we were one big happy family. Damian was the golden boy, but I wasn’t jealous. I could only ever wish to be half the man he was.
He was the type of person who helped elderly people across the road or tended to a bird with a broken wing. Me, I preferred to put the bird out of its misery and laugh at the old farts who shuffled along. We were so different, but Damian never judged me. He loved me regardless of my flaws.
My reflection stares back at me from the dirty bus window, and as I peer into my mismatched eyes, I wonder if my brother would love me now. Scoffing, I shove such sentiments aside because I don’t deserve love. I deserve to be alone, just as Damian is.
When the bus pulls up at a stop a few blocks away from The Pink Oyster, I get off and walk the rest of the way, thankful Lotus saw something in me that I don’t. I’ll do my job without a fuss and keep my nose clean because I’m here for a reason. However, when I push open the back door and see Andre talking to one of the girls, I know that keeping my nose clean with this asshole on my ass will be fucking hard.
Nodding a curt hello, I make my way through the club, hoping to find Lotus, so I can keep interaction with Andre to a minimum. She’s in a small room down the hallway that serves as her office. The door is open, but I knock, nonetheless.
“Hi, Bull,” she says, peering up at me briefly, before returning to the mountain of paperwork in front of her.
“Hey. You got any tools I can use?”
Lotus sweeps her hand to the corner of the room where I see a metal toolbox and a first-aid kit close by. It seems her office has many uses. Not wanting to disturb her, I enter quickly and grab what I need.
Just as I’m about to leave, Lotus huffs and throws her pen onto the messy desk. “I give up,” she grumbles, rubbing her tired eyes. “Why isn’t this adding up?”
I don’t know if she’s speaking to me or not, so I assume she isn’t and continue toward the door.
“I don’t suppose you’re any good with numbers?”
I stop in my tracks and turn over my shoulder to look at the scribbled piece of paper in front of her. She appears half hopeful since I didn’t blow her off. Doing a quick calculation in my head, I see where she’s gone wrong.
“You didn’t carry the one,” I say, looking at the figures on the page.
I’m guessing these are the takings of the club. Or maybe she’s doing her taxes. Fucked if I know. Whatever it is, she quickly peers down at the sums in front of her and hums in realization. “Holy shit, you’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right,” I counter while she smirks. “A lot has changed since I’ve been locked up, but math isn’t one of them.”
I instantly regret my overshare as I’ve just revealed I’ve been inside. But Lotus doesn’t flinch or look at me with judgment. She merely nods with a smile.
“A jack-of-all-trades. If you’re not careful, I’ll have you doing my books as well.”
“I’ll be out there if you need me.” I don’t linger and make my way into the club.
Andre is helping himself to the top shelf vodka, which is a total dick move because I doubt he has any intention of paying for it. I don’t like freeloaders or cheapskates. Life isn’t free. But I ignore him and go to work testing the stability of the barstools.
They’re all unsteady, so I open the toolbox and hunt for what I need. Seconds later, a huge shadow casts over me, hinting I have an audience. I don’t take the bait because I know exactly who is lurking.
If this assclown is looking for a fight, he is shit out of luck. No matter how badly I want to kick his ass, I won’t, because I refuse to disrespect Lotus in that way. Just as I’m about to lift the stool and lay it on the bar, Andre slams his paw onto the counter and blocks me. I don’t flinch as I lift my eyes slowly. We lock gazes, and it’s evident he is intent on making my life hell.
Isn’t he lucky that I don’t give a shit?
Chewing on a toothpick, he tries to intimidate me as he stares me down. His attempt is laughable. Lifting the stool, I place it on the bar, regardless of the location of his hand.
He swiftly draws it back. “Looks like Lotus has found herself a little bitch,” he taunts, removing the toothpick from between his rubbery lips.
Ignoring him, I drop eye level with the stool and examine the legs.
“Are you deaf and stupid? I’m talking to you.” He yanks the top of the stool, sending it crashing to the floor.
Taking two deep breaths, I rise calmly, refusing to buckle. Andre clenches his fists with a sneer, awaiting my retaliation.
He’ll be waiting a long time.
Reaching for another stool, I repeat the same action I did with the first. The uneven leg is more evident on this stool, so I hunt through the toolbox for a small saw. Andre doesn’t like to be ignored.
“Listen, freak,” he spits, thankfully keeping his hands to himself. “Stay out of my way, and we won’t have a problem.”
It’s evident he’s not going anywhere unless I reply, so I give him a brisk nod. “Suits me fine.”
Andre must feel as if I’m challenging his top dog position, which is ironic, considering I don’t want any part of it. I’m not interested in being alpha over this dipshit, because there is no competition. “You’re one weird motherfucker.”
“Thank you,” I counter, returning to my search inside the toolbox. He’s gone a few seconds later but not before swiping a bottle of vodka.
Exhaling slowly, I rein in my anger and focus on fixing the barstools. The cheap wooden legs are easy to cut through, and it doesn’t take me too long to even them up. As I’m sanding the legs down before I replace the caps so they’re stable, a waft of something sweet catches the air.
Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, I turn over my shoulder to see I’m no longer alone.