Flock

by Stewart , Kate

“I have no plans to do that. But I’m certain this is an ongoing issue that you need to take seriously because they’re past the point of fed up. So much so that yesterday, I was humiliated on the line for this. Is it really worth it to have your employees loathe you?”

  “I couldn’t care less how they feel about me. I provide jobs—”

  “It’s theft, pure and simple, for the people who make,” I cut my hand through the air, “all of this possible. You wanted me to get a taste of your business to earn my place, well it’s got one hell of an aftertaste, Sir. When’s the last time you spent a day in your own factory?”

  “Your point’s been made, Cecelia. I’ll look into it, but don’t think your threats are what make a difference to me. I’ve been running this company since I was twenty-seven years old.”

  “I was afraid to walk to my car last night. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  “You live long enough, and you’ll make enemies.”

  “Glad to see you’re concerned. Did you know about this?”

  “I will tighten security if need be. This is an accounting oversight, I’m sure.”

  “An oversight that’s involved every single employee check? Pardon me if I call bullshit.”

  “You’ve never been so liberal with your tongue. What has gotten into you?”

  “It was a hundred degrees in there two days ago!” I feel like I’m going to burst into flames as I slap my hand on my small stack of paychecks. “A hundred degrees, easy. It’s a literal sweatshop and you have me working there alongside everyone else. Did you expect I would just shut up and take my paychecks and play along? Well, you almost got lucky in that respect. I wasn’t paying attention, but I got my lids razored off last night.”

  “Cecelia, stop with the dramatics. I’ve heard your concerns.”

  “When’s the last time you updated anything in that plant to make it comfortable for the people who run it for you?”

  He clears his throat, eyes dropping, voice ice cold. “Again, I’ll look into it.”

  “That’s a standard reply and frankly, Sir, I’m not accepting it. Especially, if this is the legacy I’m to inherit. A plant of disgruntled employees who loathe my existence because they can’t feed their families? No thanks.”

  He straightens in his seat. “I will not be lectured to or threatened by my own daughter.”

  “If I’m being forced to pay, literally, for your oversights, then I will have my say with you. That woman told me over and over that I was your daughter, and I had no idea how to convey that meant nothing!”

  His eyes snap to mine, and I feel the full brunt of his narrowed blue-eyed stare.

  I tongue my cheek, damning my swimming vision as I glare at him. “Who better to inform you of your wrongdoings, other than your biggest mistake?”

  He swallows as the air shifts, followed by a long silence. Something resembling remorse flits over his features before it evaporates. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” For a single moment, I do feel something, something tangible, and it passes between us at that table. A flicker of hope lights in my chest, but I bat it away, refusing to back down.

  “You want me to take pride in my job? Pay me. You want my tone respectful? Be a respectable employer. You want me to respect my name? Be a respectable man.”

  His eyes lift to mine, his voice soft. “I’ve sacrificed quite a lot to make sure you’re cared for.”

  “I’ve never asked you for a single thing, aside for extending support to my mother, who worked herself stupid to make sure I had everything I needed, and you wouldn’t do that. I’m asking you to make this right, not for me, but for them. If you want to continue to dangle your fortune over my head, then do it, or better yet, take it away and give it back to them. Because if it’s their money I’m inheriting, I don’t want it.”

  “Again with the dramatics, which are not necessary. I’ve obviously made an error in judgment trusting the wrong people. I’ll handle this.”

  “Thank you.” I move to get up and he stands with me, stopping my retreat.

  “Just so we’re clear. You are aware that I own twenty-four factories, ten of which are overseas?” His tone has me pausing.

  “I didn’t realize you had so many, no.”

  “Then you are also unaware I trust people with the day-to-day handling of them because I have no choice but to delegate these details, details I can’t oversee myself. When they don’t do their job, it’s my head on the line and it’s my head that will roll. I’m very aware of that truth.”

  I’ve started a tiger fight with a tiger with the same stripes, though his roar isn’t as loud, it’s there, and just as effective. But it’s still guilt I feel when I think for seconds, that maybe, there is some truth to his words.

  “I’m sure it’s a lot to deal with, but this one is close to you. It’s right under your nose.” My voice cracks with that statement, and I curse my inability to keep my personal feelings out of it. He opens his mouth to speak and I wait, seconds, maybe longer, before he finally does. “I’ll take care of it, Cecelia.” I stride out of the room feeling more defeated than victorious. And when the front door closes minutes later, I sag behind my bedroom door and let another lone tear fall.

  DOMINIC IS HERE TO PICK me up tonight. I have no idea why, but he’s in my driveway staring at me as I descend the steps, his features impassable. Nerves fire off as I round his hood. He doesn’t have the decency to open the door for me like Sean does before I climb into his passenger seat.

  “Where’s Sean?”

  He takes off in reply while I glower at the side of his head. My day is not improving at all with his surprise arrival. It was Sean I hoped would balm and distract me from my argument with my father. The last thing I want to do on my day off is spar with this motherfucker.

  “Seriously, man. Words.”

  “Sean is busy. I’m doing him a favor.”

  “I could have driven.”

  “Well, you aren’t.”

  “You could let me drive now.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “I’ve been practicing in Sean’s Nova. I’ve gotten better.”

  He smirks. “You think so?”

  “Know so.”

  Wrong words. Those were the wrong words to say.

  In zero to a hundred and twenty, the bastard has me screeching at the top of my lungs as he fully opens up his dark horse’s capabilities. This driving is nothing like the thrill ride that he took me on the first night. I’m terrified as he flies down the road with absolutely no regard for his life or mine.

  “Okay, point made. You’re the king, okay? Slow the hell down, please.”

  He nails the few curves before he hits the straightaway as sweat gathers on every surface of my body.

  “This isn’t funny!”

  He cranks up the music as we pass a small gas station.

  “Dominic, please. Please!”

  I’m truly terrified, and he glances my way before he crosses the yellow lines and slows considerably.

  “Thanks for reducing speed, but we are not in Europe, Dominic!” I shriek, white-knuckling every available surface before he pulls the emergency brake and turns, banking us on a shoulder doing a complete one-eighty. I’m fairly sure I just pissed a little as we race in the opposite direction.

  “Forgot something,” is his excuse as he slides to a halt perfectly between a minivan and pickup at the beat-up station.

  I’m in a full-blown panic attack at this point as he turns to me. “Need anything?”

  “You motherfucker!”

  “Not in the mood for foreplay at the moment, but how about a Mountain Dew?”

  I’m a millisecond from launching myself at him when he graces me with his bored expression. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  He walks toward the store, and I’ve never seen a more perfect depiction of full swagger as I do in Dominic’s gait. I glance around the sketchy looking store and fight my bladder. The drive to wherever we’re going will no doubt take twenty
minutes. It always does here. I decide to go for it and get out of the car. Dominic is in the cooler section when I walk up to the counter that sits next to an oversized LIVE BAIT sign and ask the attendant for a key. Next to me, a few older men sit perched in outdated black plastic chairs while continually pressing buttons on old lottery machines like their lives depend on it. Taking the key, I exit the building and walk around the corner to the battered door before suffering through thirty of the most disgusting seconds of my life. I wash my hands with syrupy looking soap and exit the bathroom with the oversized key in hand. I’m halfway to the door to return it when a guy blocks my path. He nods over his shoulder to Dominic’s Camaro.

  “Nice ride.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yours?”

  The man has to be in his late forties, his pot belly on full display due to his T-shirt riding up and riddled with something resembling ketchup. He reeks of liquor. I side-step him and he blocks me, his eyes rolling down me in a disgusting and predatorial way. Booze has obviously given him way too much false confidence.

  “No, the car isn’t mine, excuse me.”

  “I used to race back in the day. Just wanted to—”

  He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because olive fingers wrap around the side of his neck, and the arm attached to it launches him into the side of the building. I grimace at the sick smack of flesh to concrete as the man’s eyes go wide and he stumbles, his legs twisting awkwardly before he falls flat on his ass. Dominic doesn’t so much as glance his way as he snatches the key from me.

  “Get in the car.” An order that leaves absolutely no room for argument.

  Eyes bulging, I haul ass to his Camaro and lock myself inside. I look to see the man still struggling to get up as Dominic joins me and takes off without so much as acknowledging what just happened.

  I crane my neck, relieved to see the man stumbling back into the store. “Was that really necessary?”

  “Yes. They have to have the key back to let someone else piss on the seat.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

  We take an unfamiliar route as the sun starts to set and my driver remains mute. After a series of turns, I’m completely lost as Dominic slows on a crowded street full of young thugs and scantily dressed girls huddled on the corners. Government housing lines either side of us as we creep through and every head turns our way before their eyes dip down.

  “Why are we here?”

  “Errands.”

  “Look, to each their own, but I want no part of drugs, or whatever business brings you here, you can take me home and come back.”

  His jaw clenches as a guy in a ball cap salutes him, stepping off the curb. Dominic rolls down his window and lifts his chin.

  “What’s good, man?” the guy says, eyeing me, his grin growing wider. “What do you got here? New girl?”

  Dominic’s reply is ice. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  I hear the unmistakable cock of a gun next to me. My eyes go wide when I see the Glock in Dominic’s grip before he lays it across his lap. I have no idea where it came from.

  “I told you I don’t like company, RB.”

  The guy looks over his shoulder to see another man approaching and turns to him. “Step back, right now, motherfucker, I told you I have this.” The guy eyes Dominic carefully and steps back onto the curb.

  “Sorry, man, he’s a young buck, my little nephew. I told his stupid ass to stay put.” He reaches into his pocket and Dominic’s venom stops him.

  “The fuck you doing?”

  “Sorry, man, just wanted to get straight.”

  “Then I guess you need to see Friar. I’m not driving back through here again. We clear?”

  RB holds up his hands. “Been meaning to. I swear,” he nods over his shoulder. “Car is fucked again. See?”

  Dominic eyes the Chevy on cinderblocks in the driveway behind him.

  “Get it to the shop. We’ll work it out.”

  “Thanks, man. I wanted to ask—”

  Dominic jerks his chin and the guy takes a step back from the car before he pulls away.

  “So, you are a drug dealer. Jesus, I should have known.” I don’t know why, but I’m disappointed. I thought better of him and maybe I shouldn’t have. But why the hell would a graduate of a prestigious school resort to something so fucking dangerous and juvenile? It’s equivalent to a dumb as hell NFL millionaire playing thug games and losing his life in search of street credit. And I waste no time voicing as much. “You know you have a golden ticket out of here. Jesus, Dominic, I thought you were better than this petty shit.”

  He slows at the stop sign, and everyone within feet of the car takes a step away, keeping their eyes down. Dominic leans over, his eyes on mine and his breath hits my skin, as his finger brushes my leg before he opens the glove box. My neck prickles as silver eyes infiltrate mine and my chest starts to rise and fall quicker. His gaze drops to my lips, and the air crackles thick as I run my tongue along my bottom lip. Adrenaline spikes in my blood when he lingers for long seconds before he smirks and pulls back, tossing a piece of paper in my lap. I pick it up and read. It’s a concealed gun permit for one Jean Dominic King.

  “Jean, huh? Doesn’t get much more French than that.”

  He rips the permit from my hand and locks both the glove box with the gun and permit tucked safely behind it.

  “So you have a permit, whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that I want no part of your shady shit.”

  He takes a left, and then another, getting us out of the questionable neighborhood. “Did you see an exchange of money?”

  “No.”

  “Drugs?”

  “No.”

  “Did I point my fucking gun at anyone?”

  “No.”

  He tilts his head in my direction, brow arched. “Was a crime of any kind committed?”

  “No.”

  “Then the only shady one in this car is you.”

  “How so?”

  “Because it’s your fucking brain working overtime, making assumptions you have no grounds to make.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Government housing and a corner conversation, and you drew the worst conclusions.” He takes off and drives wordlessly while I search the previous conversation and come up blank. The guy was obviously trying to give him something. Money or drugs, I’m sure of it. But, who in the hell is the Friar?

  It’s pointless to ask, even though I know I haven’t offended Dominic, I doubt anything does. He seems impenetrable.

  “Why am I with you?”

  “You got better things to do? A Kardashian episode to watch?”

  “I don’t watch that.”

  “One more errand and I’ll get you to your boyfriend.”

  “Can you, just for once, be decent to me?”

  He ignores me as we pull into a parking lot. I look up to see we’re at a medical center. Dominic circles the valet, leaves the car running and rounds the front, opening my door. “Get in the back.”

  I don’t bother asking questions and climb into the back seat, wishing I could shoot off a hostile text to Sean. But I have no phone because I’m following his damned rules while being forced to entertain his maniac ‘brother.’

  Ten minutes later, Dominic reappears through the sliding glass doors, and he isn’t alone. A woman whose age is indiscernible due to her weakened physical state is being ushered in a wheelchair by a nurse. When they get close enough, I can hear the back and forth.

  “Pourquoi tu n’es pas venu me chercher avec ma voiture?” Why didn’t you pick me up in my car?

  I can’t understand what she’s saying, but her displeasure at the sight of his car and his reply—in an endearing tone I’ve never heard—makes it clear.

  “I’ve got it at the shop, Tatie. I told you this.”

  Tatie. Aunt.

  Her eyes find mine as she stands with Dominic’s help. Upon closer inspection, she looks aged wel
l beyond her years. I’m guessing somewhere in her early forties. However, it’s apparent in her eyes and the pallor of her skin that she’s been through it. Possibly by her own hand or the unforgiving hand of sickness, maybe both.

  “Who are you?” Her accent is thick, and I make it a point to brush up on my French.

  “Hi, I’m Cecelia.”

  She turns to Dominic. “Ta copine?” Your girlfriend?

  This, I understand and I answer for myself. “Non.” No.

  She harrumphs as Dominic helps her into the front seat.

  “Comment ça va?”

  “English, Tatie, and we aren’t talking about that tonight.” Dominic never speaks French, which is odd because of his ‘Frenchman’ nickname. Maybe it’s for lack of competent company.

  He eyes me and shuts the door, rounding the car. Those few seconds alone with her intimidate the hell out of me. Though sickly, she commands an air of respect. I keep my mouth shut and am surprisingly relieved when Dominic is back behind the wheel. A few minutes of silence ensue as I study her and the resemblance between the two of them. It’s there, especially if I picture her a few years younger with more life in her eyes, her frame. When she speaks up, her question is directed to me.

  “Why did you come?”

  “She’s Sean’s girlfriend, I’m giving her a ride,” Dominic offers as we pull up to a pharmacy drive-thru. The cashier greets Dominic, her face lighting up like Christmas. Beneath her white jacket she sports a risqué dress, her face painted up like she’s going out for a night on the town, rather than working a respectable shift as a professional. He’s mildly pleasant with her which only pisses me off. He pays for the medications and asks for a water which the girl supplies, her ample breasts on display as she graces us all with a view.

  “Salope,” Dominic’s aunt says with clear disdain. I know it’s an insult to the girl trying to give us something resembling a window pole dance. I try to hide my grin, but Dominic eyes me in the rearview and doesn’t miss it. I swear I see his lips twitch. He’s so impossible to read, this man. We pull up just a car length past the window and he opens the bag, palming some of the medication, handing her a dose with the water.