Custom Built

by Chantal Fernando

  After thinking about Dad’s death, and how something about it just isn’t right, I know I have to do something. I need answers. I need to give him justice. I need the truth.

  I have a shower, get dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and my white Nikes, and open my front door.

  I take a deep breath before stepping over the threshold. This is me facing the world, instead of hiding from it.

  This is me facing life without my dad in it, and boy, is it hard.

  Getting into my car, I have a reason for pushing through, a purpose.

  I’m going to find out what really happened to my dad.

  And I’m not going to stop until I know the truth.

  Chapter Eight

  My first stop is Uncle Neville’s house. While I’m waiting on Nadia to call me back, I’m going to see what my uncle knows, and to see how he’s handling the loss. It’s not just me who will be grieving right now, and I know it was selfish of me to just shut everyone out, but I did what I had to for myself at that time.

  When I knock on the door, he answers straight away. “Oh, Bronte,” he whispers, pulling me into his arms for a bear hug. “I’ve called, I’ve come to your apartment... Where the hell have you been?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve just been trying to deal,” I admit, clearing my throat. “How are you?”

  He looks away. “Trying to deal, too. Freddy was the best younger brother in the world, you know that?”

  “He used to say that you were the best bigger brother in the world,” I admit.

  “I don’t know about that,” he murmurs after a slight hesitation.

  We step inside and I follow him to his spacious kitchen. Sitting at the marble bench, I watch as he makes us some coffee.

  “I’m glad you came by,” he says after a few moments. “We need to stick together right now, and I want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

  “I know,” I say, smiling sadly. “I actually did want to talk to you about Dad. I know it sounds like the grief talking, but I don’t think he overdosed on pain meds, and that’s what they’re telling me.”

  I look him in the eye. “I want to know what you think, and please be honest.”

  “Bronte...” he murmurs, exhaling deeply. Yeah, he’s not going to enjoy this conversation any more than I’m going to.

  “The time for keeping things from me has passed,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. “There was something going on between you and Dad. I’m aware you were doing business together. Do you know anything that could help me find out what happened? I need to hear the truth, and you’re the only one that can help me.”

  He studies me closely. It’s the hesitation there that has me intrigued. “Bronte—”

  “Don’t you ‘Bronte’ me. I want you to tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me what you know. Because I’m not going to stop until I find out what happened, and we both know damn well Dad wasn’t trying to overdose. He wasn’t even taking any medication that I was aware of,” I fire back, gritting my teeth. I don’t care if they found pain meds next to his bed. Anyone could have put those there. I know my dad, and I know in my gut that he’s not the type of person to do something like that.

  He sits down next to me, coffee in front of us both. He pours some whiskey into his. “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Bronte—”

  “Whatever it is, I can handle it,” I assure him, but he still looks uncertain.

  There’s something he’s not telling me, and I need to know what it is.

  “Okay. You know that all my businesses haven’t always been...legitimate,” he starts, tiptoeing on the subject.

  “I do know that. Dad told me that you deal with some unsavory characters with your business deals sometimes,” I reply, shrugging. “What does that have to do with this? Do you think they targeted Dad instead of you? Mixed the two of you up or something?” I don’t understand.

  “Your dad worked with me as a partner.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly, dragging the word out. I mean, my dad always had money, and I knew it had to come from somewhere. “The construction company, right?”

  “You don’t make that kind of money in construction,” he mutters, clearing his throat.

  My dad never acted like he was rich. I always knew my uncle had money, though. Not because he showed it off, but I could tell that money was never an issue for him. He may portray himself as a farmer, but he was a wealthy farmer.

  “And what exactly did the two of you do that’s making you look at me like that?” I ask him.

  His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “We...we were trying to get out of some of the deals and become completely legitimate, but it was a harder process than we had anticipated.”

  I’ve never seen my uncle nervous in my entire life. He’s full of confidence, and he can bluff with the best of them. He’s never been one to give anything away, but right now he looks uncomfortable.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I press, looking him dead in the eye. “Just say it, please.”

  He bites down on his lip before he replies. “You’re going to look at me differently, and I don’t want you to ever think badly of Freddy.”

  “There’s nothing you can say that will make me think badly of my dad.”

  “Okay. One of our most profitable businesses ever has been dealing in...narcotics.”

  Wait, what?

  My mouth drops open. “So you’re telling me... Dad was a drug dealer? You’re a drug dealer?”

  What the actual fuck has been going on this entire time that I had no idea about? How could I have been so blind? I’ve been living in my happy little world while these two have been dealing drugs this whole time?

  He winces. “A little more up the ladder than a drug dealer.”

  Blinking slowly a few times, processing this, I don’t even know what to say right now. I can see why he didn’t want me to hear this little bit of information. I’m shocked, but I also feel a little stupid that I didn’t know this about two men who are close to me.

  My head feels like it’s going to explode. I feel like everything I knew about my father is a lie. I’m not a do-gooder. I’m not one to judge my uncle and father for what they did to earn a living. Am I shocked that it was related to drugs? Yes. Do I love them less? No. But he lied to me. That’s what stings the most.

  I rub my face with both of my hands. “So how did this happen? How’d you both get into this?”

  He sighs. “When I was young, I wanted to find the quick and easy way on making money. Your father, he was the hard worker. He didn’t mind putting in the time and work and paying his dues.”

  I smile because that is my father. He was never afraid of hard work.

  “So I started getting involved with less-than-legal activities, and drugs were one of them. Because I didn’t do them, I found that I was able to have a level head. I made a lot of money in a fast amount of time.”

  “So you were never a farmer.”

  “No, I was. I had the farm for fun.”

  I give him the side eye and he laughs. “Okay, okay. I had it to have a legitimate business. But I did genuinely enjoy having the farm. I still do.”

  “So how did my dad get involved in this?”

  He looks at me with regret in his eyes. “When you started having your health issues”—he winces a little—“your father came to me for money for your medical bills.”

  That’s a sucker punch to the gut. “Me? My bills?”

  My father told me not to worry about it. That it was fine.

  “I gave it to him, of course. No questions asked. But you know your father. He never wanted a handout. So he finally asked me the question he avoided all these years.”

  “He asked you how you made your money.”

  Neville nodd
ed. “So I told him. And he wanted in.”

  My dad was the sweetest, kindest man you would ever meet, and he was out there supplying drugs and making our city a shittier place? I don’t know what to think, or to say.

  “Does Abbie know?” I ask through narrowed eyes.

  He nods.

  “And she has accepted it?” I guess, adding some whiskey to my own coffee and taking a long sip. I can now see why he needed something stronger.

  “Yes, she has, but it’s different with her. We only just met and the circumstances around that required her knowing,” he admits, ducking his head. “It’s my fault—I brought him into this world. He needed money and saw how much I was making. He wanted the best for you, Bronte. All the money he made, he put into an account for you. The house he bought? For you. I know it doesn’t make it any better, but he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have to worry about money.”

  “I’d rather have him here than have money,” I murmur, voice breaking. “I just want my dad back.”

  Drug lord or not, I just want my dad back.

  “And I’m going to have to live with that guilt forever,” I hear him whisper to himself.

  * * *

  I’m smashed by the time Crow drops by that evening. I can tell he’s surprised by the way he takes the bottle in his hand and lifts it in the air, looking between it and me, his brow furrowing. “You’re drunk?”

  “Something like that.”

  He sighs, and places the bottle back down. “At least you left the house then. Unless they do alcohol delivery drop-offs now?”

  “They do. That’s a thing,” I say, nodding. “But yes, I did leave the house. And it was awful. I went to see my uncle Neville.”

  His eyes widen, and it’s then that it hits me.

  Crow would know.

  This entire time, he would have known about Uncle Neville and my dad. He hired me knowing I was the daughter and the niece of a pair of fucking drug lords, and they still hired me.

  “You hired me, knowing I was a drug lord’s daughter,” I say, shaking my head. “Even though I didn’t even know I was a drug lord’s daughter. Isn’t that funny?”

  I feel like an idiot. They all knew this, except me, and it’s my life.

  How can they all know more about my own life than me? The whole thing makes me feel so out of control, so powerless.

  “Bronte—”

  “You knew. Abbie knew. Everyone knew. I’m guessing the whole fucking MC knew. But I didn’t know.” I pause. “And I kind of wish I didn’t know. No wonder he didn’t want to tell me. I wish I could go back in time and take it back.”

  Ignorance is bliss.

  Crow sits down next to me on the floor. “It wasn’t my thing to tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

  His voice is calm, and soothing. Patient.

  I know it’s not his fault, but that still doesn’t mean that I don’t feel a little betrayed.

  “Your place is next to me, on this carpet,” I mumble, resting my head against his shoulder. “Do me a favor, and don’t lie or omit information to me again, okay? I’m not going to take it well. No one really likes looking like a fool, do they?”

  Everybody wants the truth, especially when it has to do with them. But I know that no one wanted to tell me because it’s not something to randomly bring up in conversation. Hey, Bronte, so what do you think that your father and uncle are serious players in the illegal drug industry? I don’t know I would’ve believed them even if someone did tell me that.

  But I am still allowed to be upset by this.

  “You don’t look like a fool,” he assures me, stroking my hair. “You look like a good, honest woman, and one who has never even used drugs, never mind knew her family was dealing them. They didn’t want you a part of this, and I’m sure you can understand why. They didn’t want to taint you, and bring you down with them. What they did was their decision. It has nothing to do with you as a person or how they feel about you.”

  There’s merit to what he says, but it’s kind of hard not to take this personally.

  “Hey, I tried marijuana in high school,” I whisper, laughing. “It was just once, when I was going through my rebellious stage.”

  He laughs at that. “Sounds like you were a real bad girl.”

  “You have no idea,” I say, smiling sadly. “Dad never found out. He always trusted me and thought the best of me no matter what. I could do no wrong in his eyes. You know what?”

  “What?”

  “I probably won’t be able to have kids, and I never told him that.”

  Crow looks at me, confused by my random fact.

  “I have a history of abnormal cells on my cervix, and I had a few surgeries to remove them. However, if they’re just going to continue to grow back, my doctor recommended that I get a hysterectomy, especially since there is cancer in my family history. My mother died of ovarian cancer.”

  I refuse to look Crow in the eye, recognizing it’s the first time I’m really talking about this with someone without blowing it off as nothing serious. I realize I’ve been withholding telling people the full extent of what is going on with me because I didn’t want to acknowledge the severity of it. But now, after Dad’s death, I know I owe it to him to face it.

  “My dad knew about the surgeries and the abnormal cells, but I never told him about the hysterectomy I may need. I never shared that with him, because I knew he would have been so upset, and now he’s gone and it’s too late.” I turn to him. “You’re the first person I’ve told this to. No one is going to want me after I have a hysterectomy.”

  He pulls me closer. “That’s not true. And there are other ways to have children. You could adopt or foster. It doesn’t mean you’ll never be a mother, if that’s what you want. It doesn’t have to be the end of your dreams.”

  “I know. There are other options out there, you’re right. But, since it was just me and my dad, I’ve always craved that familial connection. Before Abbie, I didn’t really have anyone who was blood related to me other than my dad and uncle. So while I know there are many other ways to be a mother, having a child of my own was something I always wanted. And now that Dad is gone, it’s something I wish I had more than ever,” I admit. “Maybe it’s best that Dad didn’t know, because he always wanted to be a grandfather.”

  “He sounds like a great man,” Crow says. “I’m so happy that I got to meet him that one time and I could tell that we’d have gotten along.”

  “He liked you,” I say. “He told me that.”

  “That means a lot to me, to hear that. Most of the best men I know are in the MC. We get judged and looked down upon, so you can’t always trust what other people think. He loved you. You knew him. Yes, there was a side he kept secret to protect you from the truth, but that doesn’t change his love for you.”

  “I know,” I agree. “I think it’s just hard to think about him having another side to him. One I never saw. If it wasn’t Uncle Neville and it was anyone else telling me this about him, I wouldn’t have believed them. That’s how out of character this seems.”

  “I know. People are intricate. I don’t know if you can ever really, truly know someone,” he says, kissing my hair. “But you know if people love you, and have your back, and are loyal to you, and those things all mean something. Friendship and love mean something. Family is everything, the type made from blood or forged in loyalty. I’m really close with my sister, even though she’s a pain in my ass. I’d do anything for her.”

  “Heidi,” I say, feeling a little sheepish. “I thought she was your girlfriend or booty call or something.”

  “I guessed as much, but no, she’s just my little sister, who was drunk and asking if I could give her a ride home,” he explains. “Our parents live overseas, and we rarely get to see them. So it’s just us here, and we look out for each other.”

  “That so
unds nice. I always wanted a sibling,” I admit, closing my eyes, my head fuzzy, my body warm. “I lost my mom when I was a kid, and now my dad. Maybe if I had a sibling it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “You have us,” is the last thing I hear before I fall asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hey,” I say as Abbie and Sky walk into the café. I messaged them both and asked if they would meet me here. I wanted to have a private chat with them about everything that has been going on.

  “How are you doing?” Abbie asks, concern and worry in her eyes. “We’ve all been so worried about you.”

  “I’m okay,” I reply, shrugging. I mean, I’m not, but what can I say? No one would want to hear the depressing truth.

  “Crow has been keeping us all updated,” Sky adds. Not too updated, because they obviously don’t know that I know the truth about everything yet.

  “I went and spoke to Uncle Neville,” I say, and with those words, I think they both know why we are all here right now. It’s not to discuss my father’s death, or how I’m doing—it’s to discuss why the hell no one thought it would have been a good idea to tell me the truth about my own family.

  “He told me everything,” I continue, swallowing hard. “And I guess I just wanted to tell you both how damn upsetting it is to find out that everyone you care about knew things about your life, yet they didn’t bother to tell you. You all knew that I didn’t know, right?”

  “Yeah,” Skylar admits, her green eyes filled with regret. “We did, and we’re sorry, Bronte. I mean, we didn’t know about your dad and his involvement. But we definitely knew about Neville.”

  “She’s right,” Abbie murmurs, reaching out and touching my hand. “I know exactly where you are right now because I felt the same. And you’re right, we should have told you.”

  Sky nods. “I guess I personally felt like it wasn’t my business, and that it was between you and your dad and uncle, but you’re right. If I was in your situation right now, I would feel completely betrayed.”