Page 18 of Broken Mercy
“Which is why I’m even doing this. I owe him my life.”
“This is another chance for you. I swear, it’ll be good. Only Talin needs a house. She needs a man who isn’t a shell of who he used to be.”
I turn my back on my sister. “This is all I’ve got left.”
“That’s not true! Look, I know you went through hell. When that Vegas job fell apart, they hunted you for it, they made you pay. They hurt you and almost ended you, but still, it wasn’t your fault. That’s over now. You don’t have to hide anymore.”
It’s over. She’s right. Whatever’s in my head is only a ghost. They’re apparitions of a mistake I made two years ago now, but I still feel them when I try to walk and my knee aches, or I twist the wrong way and my back cracks from stress. I wish it were as simple as letting the dead stay dead.
“Buy the house. Get me a good deal.”
“Really?” Her momentum is stalled. She definitely expected me to fight more.
“Yeah, really, go ahead. Talin needs a house, right? This one’s as good as any other.”
“She’ll love it.” But Riley doesn’t sound sure. She senses a trap, because my sister’s always been the smart one. “Are you going to?”
I don’t answer. I walk off, giving her a wave over my shoulder. Because what’s it matter? A house or an apartment? Dig a hole in the ground and I’ll be fine. What do I care, if I’m still only a shell, waiting to be filled again?
Waiting for the space to breathe.
Utensils scrape on plates.Someone’s lilting laughter slides over the heads of the people sitting nearby. Fairy lights dangle from the ceiling and wildflowers are placed in artful bunches. Crap hangs on the walls. Some vaguely pastoral bullshit mixed with wood-and-iron like a hammer factory got smashed into an artisanal florist. The theme makes no fucking sense. People seem to love it. The food comes out on tiny plates and each one costs a small fortune.
I ask the bartender for another club soda and leave a nice tip to make sure she stays happy and barely noticing me. I have a good spot in the corner, tucked beside a couple of louder older ladies, both of them big, hiding me from the majority of the restaurant. For a lunch rush, it’s busy. I tug my hat down and hunch my shoulders, outwardly looking like a stressed business man killing his only private hour.
She’s sitting at a table near the front windows, not close enough to hear what she’s saying, but she’s smiling. I like Talin’s smile. There’s something easy in it though when the smile goes away, I catch glimpses of something else. Anger, maybe, when she turns to her sister, a pretty blond girl who sits like she’s got an iron rod up her ass, or maybe like she’d love one there. Her brothers are on the other side of the table, that young bastard Sam who made me the other night, and the baby-faced Davit with his mop of dark, curly hair.
They seem nice. That’s a word I hate, fuckingnice. Riley keeps using it to describe Talin and I know what she means. These are the kind of siblings who have inside jokes, who grew up goingto sports together, who look forward to Christmas because it’s more time they get to spend feeling happy.
Which is rare in our life. Makes me wonder if I had fucking bad parents. At least, worse than I already knew.
I shouldn’t be here. It’s stupid to follow Talin around. Vaguely suicidal. Like I’m begging her to catch me, to embarrass me, to yell at me. Maybe I crave punishment. I’m probably with the wrong sister then—the blond looks like she’d enjoy doling out a sharp spanking.
But the blond isn’t my type.
I can’t stop staring at Talin. My mouth waters, remembering her taste. I nearly kissed her again at the Sarkissian mansion, another stupid mistake, but it was all I could think of at the time to make her stop asking questions. The nosey girl came close to catching me, and if I gave her a chance to think about why I was in an empty bedroom banging on a wall…
Kissing her felt like the best idea at the time.
I switch to bourbon when their food shows up. I’m cooking myself and I know it. I’m rolling around in the shit, beating myself up for no reason. Why would a girl like Talin want to marry me? Probably because she’s got no other choice.
I’m going to ruin her like I’ve ruined everyone else in my life.
She’s going to lose this, her relationship with her siblings, whether she wants to or not. It’ll never be the same, once she moves into that big, strange house in Fed Hill, the one Riley’s buying with my cash. That’ll be another bit of guilt heaped onto the funeral pyre. One more straw.
After my second drink, I slip off the stool and amble toward the bathroom. I’m not me; now I’m another anonymous guy needing a piss. I fall into character easily, my cheap polyester shirt, my ill-fitting pants, my second-hand shoes. Nobody glances at me twice. Why would they? I push into the men’s room and move toward the urinals.
As I reach the far end, I slow, briefly, as I pass behind her brother Sam. He doesn’t notice me, too engrossed on his business. I take my time, wait for him to wash and go, before posting up at the sink.
I hold up his phone with a smile.
He’ll notice soon enough. A kid his age can’t go more than ten minutes without checking his screen. But it’s good to know I still got it.
I shove the stolen device into my pocket, slip into the hall, and escape through the emergency exit.
Let Tallie have her night lunch with her nice family.
She’ll be mine soon enough, want her or not.
