“’How could you waste the money?’” I repeated my father’s words to her in his stern voice. “‘If my family doesn’t eat steak, then I don’t eat steak.’ But my mother said that important men eat steak, and she didn’t want my father to forget that he was an important man.”
I raised my eyes, forcing a smile as I looked into her eyes. “Instead, he became a great man, and now we can have steak any time we want.” I dropped my gaze, mumbling under my breath as I absently nudged the plate away. “I don’t even need to be important.”
I wasn’t important.
Not yet.
My father worked his ass off to give my mother back everything she sacrificed in choosing him, and how did I repay him? I fucked around, driving cars he paid for and eating anything I wanted, no matter the cost. I didn’t earn a damn thing.
I was nothing in the shadow of what he’d accomplished.
I took my trust fund after I got out last year, invested a lot of it, and tried to make something of myself, but the black cloud of being labeled a criminal still hung over me. I could always see it in his eyes. I’d never be able to erase the shame.
My eyes stung, and I blinked, looking away. I didn’t deserve to be at this table, let alone eating his fucking meat.
But then I saw her move. I looked up just enough to see her unroll her napkin, taking out her silverware. Slowly, I watched as she cut into the meat, slicing off a piece, and timidly put it into her mouth.
She chewed softly and then suddenly squeezed her eyes shut, putting her hand to her mouth.
My body warmed. “Is it good?” I asked quietly.
She opened her eyes again and nodded, letting out a small whimper.
My shoulders relaxed, and I watched her take another bite, this one faster. I smiled.
My mother’s homemade marinade was fantastic, but I’m pretty good at cooking it just right, too.
I looked at my own plate and pulled it forward again, picking back up my knife and fork.
“Well, I’m glad I could change your mind about steak,” I said, cutting back into my own.
She swallowed. “I’ve actually never eaten steak.”
I took a bite of the tender meat, the juices sending my taste buds on a high. “Ever?”
She shrugged one shoulder, looking away as she chewed another bite.
“What do you usually like to eat?”
She sliced into the steak again, making short work of it. She must be hungry. “Eggs, toast…” she told me. “That kind of thing.”
“Can’t be that filling.”
But she just looked away again, ignoring my prompt for more info. I let my gaze drop to her hands. A thin line of black smudge lay under her nails, and the black jacket she wore was frayed at the cuffs. Eggs and toast, huh? I got the sneaking suspicion that was all she could afford, goddammit. What did Gabriel pay her?
Well, I guess that was on me now, wasn’t it? I’d sort something out tomorrow, then.
“You never used to wear those gloves,” I pointed out, gesturing to the leather, fingerless gloves she wore. “Is there a reason now?”
“So I don’t tear my knuckles when I hit you.” She stuffed another bite of food into her mouth.
My chest rumbled with a laugh I held in. Hey, I might let her get in a punch. She wouldn’t win, though.
She downed the steak, green beans, and most of the potatoes, finally opening her bottle of water and taking a long drink.
She looked…satisfied, oddly enough.
I don’t know why, but it felt good to feed her. She wasn’t the kind of person to let others do things for her, so this was going to be a rarity. I may as well enjoy it.
She took another long gulp and capped the bottle, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
I finished a few more bites while she sat quietly, fiddling with the napkin on the table.
And then she finally spoke up, breaking the silence. “I don’t know where he is.” She raised her resolute eyes, meeting mine. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
She wasn’t trying to be difficult. Just honest and straight with me, and I turned her words over in my head, finally nodding.
I brought the napkin up and wiped off my mouth, setting it back down and holding her gaze. “I understand. I’m still not letting you go, though.”
Banks
Present
A shrill ringing pierced the air the next morning, and I jolted awake, pawing the nightstand above my head for my phone. It dangled over the side, and I grabbed it, ripping out the charger as I blinked away the exhaustion. Gabriel’s name appeared on the screen. I answered it immediately.
“Banks,” I said, quickly clearing my throat as I sat up and swung my legs over the bed.
“A messenger will bring the contract to his dojo this morning,” he informed me. “Make sure he signs it.”
I rubbed my face, trying to wake up. Fuck, I shouldn’t have eaten that meal last night. I had more energy when I ate less. “I told you, I don’t think he has any intention of signing it. He wanted access to The Pope, because he thinks Damon is there. He’s screwing with us.”
“What do I care what his plan is?” my father snapped. “He saddled this pony. Now he gets to ride it.”
Kai wasn’t signing the damn contract. I wasn’t sure what he wanted with me—I wasn’t even sure he knew—but I definitely understood Kai didn’t like doing things the wrong way. After what I heard last night, he would never marry someone he didn’t know and explain to his father that he’d just bound himself to Gabriel Torrance. My father and Kai’s didn’t cross paths often, and despite the fact that their sons were good friends once, Katsu and Gabriel fucking hated each other.
“Damon isn’t at The Pope, correct?” Gabriel asked.
I stood up and walked over to the window, peeling back the tattered shade to see that it was raining.
“Like I told you, I think he was at some point,” I said. “But he appears to be gone now.”
My brother, I was sure, had several hiding spots in the city. If he was at The Pope, he would’ve seen us coming in time to scram.
“You would tell me if he was calling you? Or if you’d seen him?” he pressed, a threat in his tone. I could tell he was nervous. Damon was a time bomb, and Gabriel was losing his grip on how to handle him. “I realize he has your loyalty, but I’m the one who pays you. You are only protected by my good graces, little girl. Remember that.”
I released the shade, my ire rising. “And your only hold on him is me. Remember that.”
I immediately closed my eyes, regretting my lip. Shit.
My father fell silent. I’d gotten mouthy with him once. And once was all it took for me to learn my place.
I took a deep breath, calming my tone. “I’m on board with you,” I assured him. “Don’t worry, and trust that I can determine the best way to do my job. I know Damon better than anyone. I will get him home.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, but I could hear voices in the background. Thank goodness I wasn’t standing in front of him right now. If I were, his options about how to handle my impudence wouldn’t be so limited.
But to my surprise, he simply released a sigh and said, “Fine.” And then he added, “You should’ve been born a boy. You’re the son Damon should’ve been.”
I just stood there, the weight on my shoulders so heavy. Part of me liked hearing that. That he wished my brother was more like me and not the other way around. It filled my heart with pride.
But I still wasn’t a boy. And I never would be. That’s all it boiled down to. What was between my legs.
And no matter what I did or how hard I worked, there would always be that.
“Still, females aren’t completely useless,” he went on. “Kai likes you, so use what God gave you and get him to sign the contract. Don’t bother coming back until you do.”
And then he hung up.
I hit the Off button on my phone and tossed it into the sheets on the bed. Crossing my arms
over my chest, I ground my teeth together, trying to find my fucking focus again.
I was so tired.
I should’ve just come home last night. I shouldn’t have gotten into his car or ate his food or let him tell me stupid fucking stories that made my stomach knot with things I shouldn’t feel.
What do I care that he likes mac and cheese, for Christ’s sake?
I ran my hand over the top of my head, pushing back the hairs that had come loose from my two French braids.
Dammit. I squeezed my eyes shut, groaning as I dug my nails into my scalp. The hair was suddenly so tight I just wanted to tear out the rubber bands and rip apart the braids. My head hurt. My skin burned. And my stomach ached with hunger, craving to be full again like it was last night.
I forced breaths in and out.
Where are you, Damon? We don’t have to live like this. Why did you leave me behind?
But I knew the answer. He left, because he knew I would wait. I always did.
The more Kai was in my days, though, the more confused I was becoming. He’d been so candid last night, reminiscing his old childhood apartment, but then his expression turned sad, recalling how his father had succeeded in becoming such a great man. He left so much unsaid. So much he didn’t really need to say, I guess.
He thought he was a disappointment.
I looked around my small, one-room apartment, the cracked floorboards vibrating under my feet every time someone walked down the hallway outside my door.
The dirty window was covered by a yellowed shade. The sink sat empty, my one dish, one bowl, one cup, and one set of silverware sitting in the dish rack next to it. There was a futon I’d bought at a second-hand store and some cinderblocks with a board on top functioning as the coffee table.
Kai Mori didn’t know how lucky he was. At least he had people to count on, an education, opportunities, and chances.
I didn’t even have a high school diploma.
No money, either, and I could never leave the one person I gave a shit about.
Kai could always rise higher, and I was getting tired of being around him and being reminded that I couldn’t.
I would always live like this.
Jogging up the narrow stairwell, I swung around the railing and continued up to the second floor. Cigarette butts laid squashed into the chipped wooden floors, and I breathed through my mouth to keep the stench of everything else going on in this building from making me gag. It was no picnic growing up with Damon and Gabriel, but I was so thankful my brother took me away from here eleven years ago.
I pounded on my mother’s apartment door, the 3 missing from the two-thirty-two above the peephole. Now just the dark mark of the glue shaped like a three remained.
“Mom!” I called out, pounding with the side of my fist again. “Mom, it’s me!”
We both lived in the same broken-down neighborhood in Meridian City, so walking here took less than ten minutes.
When I moved to town after Damon went off to prison, I could’ve just moved back in with her, I suppose—to combine resources and all—but I didn’t want to, and thankfully, she didn’t ask. She still had a lifestyle that kids could cramp, so…
I needed to talk to her, though. We needed a straight story in case anyone—like Kai—came by to ask about me. Gabriel wasn’t on my birth certificate, and the only other people who knew I was his daughter all worked for him, so my mother was the only weak link. I had to make sure she kept her mouth shut. Kai didn’t need to find out exactly how much leverage he had at his fingertips.
After a minute of no response and no sounds coming from inside, I dug out my stolen key, unlocking the door. Opening it, I took a step in and immediately looked around, taking in the living room in shambles.
“What the hell?” I breathed out, wincing at the smell.
I spotted a man passed out on the couch, one leg hanging off, and closed the door behind me, not worrying about being quiet. He obviously didn’t hear me banging it down a moment ago anyway.
Sticking my keys back in my pocket, I took in the dark, dingy room, the only light coming from whatever was breaching the shades and the tacky, blue velvet curtains. I walked over to the coffee table, sifting through day-old Chinese food containers, cigarettes, and tipped-over beer bottles. I picked up a pipe, the glass clouded from the residue of what had burned inside it. Every muscle tightened as I glared at it, and I shook my head.
Tossing it back down to the table, I glanced at the biker sprawled on the couch with his jeans and belt unfastened. Then, raising my eyes a hair, I glared at the camera sitting on the arm of the sofa. The nice, high-tech kind with an attached microphone.
Fuck her.
Spinning around, I charged for the kitchen table, tipped over one of the chairs, and stomped on one of the legs, breaking it off. Picking it up, I charged down the hallway toward her bedroom, and whipped it open.
The knob slammed into the wall, and I found her with another fucking guy, this one younger and passed out on the bed next to her. Sheets curled around their legs, a lamp laid overturned on the floor, and the rain splattered on the sill from where the window was cracked open. Clothes were scattered everywhere, and the stench of cigarettes hit me like a wave. I fought not to cough.
Turning my eyes right, I spotted the tripod for the camera.
Son of a bitch. I whipped the cane to my right, slamming it into her dresser.
“Get out!” I shouted. “Get the fuck out!”
I pounded the wooden stick again, sending the perfume bottles on her dresser tipping over.
“What the hell?” The man suddenly woke, trying to sit up and rubbing his eyes.
“Get up, asshole!” I raised my foot, stomping it down on the bed. “Get out of here now!”
My mom, her dark hair hanging over one eye, pulled the sheet up and sat up. “What? What’s happening?”
“Shut up,” I growled, raising the stick.
The young guy, probably only a few years older than me, looked at me like he was part terrified and part confused.
Okay, let me be clearer then.
I got in his face. “Get. Out!” I bellowed, my face hot with fire as I whipped the cane against the wall above his head over and over again. “Get the fuck out! Go! Go! Go!”
“What the fuck?” he barked, scrambling off the bed and scurrying for his clothes. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Nik, what are you doing?” I heard my mother ask me, but I ignored her.
I breathed hard. The camera, the men, drugs…fucking slut. I swallowed the bile rising up my throat.
The guy scrambled back into his jeans, grabbing his shoes and swiping his shirt off the chair, and shot me a scowl as he bolted from the room.
My mother quickly slipped into her nightgown and robe, but I followed the guy out, making sure he took his friend.
I saw him hopping on one leg, trying to get his shoes on. “Man, get up!” he whisper-yelled to his buddy.
The other one started to peel himself off the sofa, but I bolted over and grabbed the camera.
“Hey, that’s ours!” the young one shouted. “We paid her! What’s on that is ours!”
But I just stood there, my fist squeezing the cane as I dared them. “Gabriel,” I said slowly. “Torrance.”
They quickly exchanged a look, and I watched as their faces fell. Yeah, that’s right. That name was useful when I needed it to be.
They didn’t know my father couldn’t give a shit less about what my mother did.
“Get out,” I repeated one last time.
They moved slowly, but they moved. They picked up their coats, grabbed their drugs, and walked out the door, the young one shooting me another displeased little scowl before he walked out. “She wasn’t any good anyway,” he spat, his eyes flashing behind me.
They walked out, and I charged over, kicking the door shut right behind them.
Hearing a shuffle behind me, I whipped around, tossing the stick onto the couch.
My mother stood in the living room, having just come out of the hallway, her red silk robe falling mid-thigh, partially covering her pink nightie. She chewed her thumbnail, chin trembling.
“What’s the video camera for?” I asked.
“I needed money.”
“I give you money!”
“That doesn’t even cover rent!”
Her eyes pooled with tears, and I charged over to the couch, tossing off the new pillows she’d bought.
“What about this shit?” I charged, continuing to walk around the living room, sending a wall hanging swinging on its nail and a crystal bowl on the end table wobbling.
I turned around, taking in her fake nails with the French manicure and the spray tan. Gabriel paid me shit, a “woman’s wage” compared to what David, Lev, and Ilia made, and after I paid my rent and the few utilities I had, she got the rest. I somehow managed to live on less! Why couldn’t she? I felt a sob well up in my throat, and I just wanted to fucking strangle her.
“There’s millions of other people in the world and they make it work somehow!” I shouted, charging up and getting in her face.
Everything was fucked, and the walls were closing in. I hated my life. I hated Damon and my father and Kai and everyone. I just wanted to go to sleep for a year. When were things going to be different?
“He was right,” I gritted out, staring at her but seeing only myself. “You’re just a sloppy, junkie whore! What are ya gonna do when no one wants to pay for your tired, old pussy anymore? Your tits are already sagging down to your knees!”
Her hand whipped across my face, and my head slammed right.
I sucked in a breath, my whole body going still.
The burn in my face spread like a snake bite getting deeper and deeper, and I closed my eyes.
Christ. My mother had never hit me before.
I might’ve gotten a few spankings as a kid—I didn’t remember—but she’d never hit me on the face.
Hideaway Page 20
