Birthright

by Shay Savage

  “You studied anatomy, didn’t you, Antony?”

  “Sure did, boss.”

  “So how do you do that thing, you know, where you cut out the heart fast enough so they can watch it beat the last time but before they bleed to death?”

  “You just gotta avoid that big artery at the top until the last moment. You still gotta get through the ribs though. That’s a little tricky.”

  “Good point. I knew you were the brains around here. Threes?” I take a step back and Threes moves in front of Jack, flexing his biceps as he moves into position.

  Three sharp cracks follow three quick punches to Jack’s chest. More screaming and incomprehensible sobbing comes from his mouth as Threes moves away, and I hold up the knife.

  “You could have had it all, Jack.” I lean in close and press the tip of the knife over his broken ribs. “We brought you in, gave you a job, and my sister gave you her love and her trust. You understand that all of this is your own doing, don’t you?”

  “Yes! Yes! I’m sorry! I’m sorry—please! I’ll never do anything against the family again! I swear!”

  “Oh, I know you won’t.”

  This is it. I tighten my grip on the knife to keep my hand from visibly shaking. I’d beaten the shit out of plenty of people, but I’ve never done this before—never taken a life. I’d watched Micha and Threes do it—even Antony once—but never by my own hand.

  Show no weakness.

  I stroke the top of his head with my free hand and smile sadly as I shove the knife into his chest. Hot blood spurts out, pouring over my arm and then erupting again in a wide arc. I jump back, yanking the knife out as I retreat from the mess.

  “Aw, shit, boss! I think you hit that artery.”

  Jack slumps over, eyes staring blankly at the bloody floor.

  “Oh, well.” I kick at his chest, sending the body and chair to the floor. “Better luck next time, right? Threes, will you get rid of this asshole, please?”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Antony hands me a towel, which does very little to remove the blood from my hands but is better than nothing. My stomach is queasy, and I want this shit off of me.

  “Nora is going to have a shit fit.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you want me to go find her? Explain everything?”

  “If you see her, sure,” I reply. “She’ll figure it out soon enough, so don’t go out of your way.”

  “You might want to consider a flak jacket,” Antony says with a smirk.

  Leave it to my cousin to use humor in a situation like this and have it actually work on me.

  “I just might.” I laugh and clasp him on the shoulder before returning to the car. Pops is already in the passenger seat.

  “You did good, Nate. There is hope for you yet.”

  I feel the agitation leaving my body. My stomach calms, and warmth covers me.

  “Thanks, Pops.”

  I take the long way home, driving all the way around the lake and reflecting on the first violent act of my regime. I might have preferred not to start out like this, but I have to do everything I can for the sake of my family, and loyalty is the most important part of that. Loyalty is what makes everything flow together, and I couldn’t risk allowing a traitor to live. If I had, I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone, not even family.

  My sister is going to be furious, but I know she’ll get over it. She’s flighty, and she’ll probably find another man to fawn over before the end of the month. Nora has always gone from one man to another quickly, seemingly unable to just be by herself for any length of time. She always has to have a plus one, quite the opposite of me.

  I’ve had my share of women, but I’ve rarely dated. High school, sure. Even a bit during my brief time in college but nothing serious. I’ve never been able to take any woman in Cascade Falls seriously. They all knew who I am, who my family is, and what I am capable of doing. I’m going to have to put that aside now and find someone suitable. As it stands, my firstborn child will inherit the family business.

  I’m not sure how I feel about that. Who would want to bring a kid up in this life? It’s dirty and gritty and violent. It’s also the only life I know. Maybe everyone’s lives are full of dirt and grit, and I just never bothered to look.

  I shake my head to clear my thoughts. The drive has helped, but I can’t hide in the car forever. I pull up to the front of the Orso estate, throw the car into park, and then head straight to the shower. Once I’ve cleaned all the blood off of me, I return to my office. I close the door behind me and breathe deeply for a few moments.

  I glance at the clock. If I’m going to get to the club at a decent time, I need to start getting ready. I’m not feeling it, but I’m expected to be there, so I’ll go. It’s not like I’m going to go to sleep early or anything—I’ve barely slept at all for the past month. Maybe I’ll just be fashionably late to the club. That’s acceptable.

  I need to relax for a few more minutes first, and I look at the large, comfortable desk chair—my chair—though I’m not sure it will ever feel right.

  Before I manage to sit down, the door to my office bursts open.

  Ah, shit.

  “You really did it, didn’t you?”

  I take an involuntary step backward as my sister approaches, eyes blazing. She marches straight up to me and slaps me across the face.

  “He was my fucking husband!” she screams.

  “He was a fucking traitor,” I reply calmly.

  “You had no right!”

  I tense. The last thing I want or need is for someone in the family questioning my judgment, even Nora.

  “I had every right!” I yell back. “I am the head of this family, and that means I get to make the decisions. We welcomed him into our family and our business, and he returned the favor by working with the Ramsays. If you think there was some other logical response, that’s just one more thing you didn’t have in common with him!”

  She blinks a few times as she works out my convoluted sentence.

  “You should have talked to me first! I haven’t even unpacked from the fucking honeymoon!”

  “Would unpacking have made a difference?” I ask. “It’s easier for you this way. I saved you the trauma of waiting for it to happen. You’re welcome.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “That would be incest.”

  “I hate you!”

  “Nothing new there either.”

  She picks up an ashtray from the table and flings it at me. I barely duck in time, and it smashes into the mirror behind me. The sound of glass shattering rings in my ears.

  “Feel better now?” I ask.

  “It didn’t hit you, so no.”

  “Charming as ever, Nora.”

  “You know the Maple Syrup Festival Ball is only a couple of months away. How the hell will I find a date for it after you killed the last one?”

  Ah, yes! There’s my sister.

  “Do you want me to find you a new husband?” I ask. “Someone more suitable? I know Pops has some records around here somewhere…”

  “What century do you think we live in?” She wipes tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Just trying to help.”

  “Who the hell would even consider joining this family now, huh?”

  “Someone who understands what it means to be loyal.”

  “I’ll die alone.”

  “You will not.” I close my eyes and grit my teeth. “You just need to get your mind off of it. Take a vacation. Go to the Bahamas or Paris or something. Retail therapy—is that what Kate calls it? Do some shopping. Get your mind off of him.”

  “How could you do this to me, Nate? After everything else we’ve been through! How could you?”

  Nora’s anger falters. Her gaze drop to the ground, and I can see her chin starting to quiver. I feel the pangs of guilt in my stomach.

  “Come here,” I say with a sigh.

  Nora races toward me and practically crashes in
to my chest, knocking me a little off balance, but I recover quickly and wrap my arms around her. She shakes as she cries, and I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt.

  “It will all be fine, Nor. I swear it will be.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “If he would have betray the business, he’d eventually betray you. Do you think I could let him get away with that? Do you really think I’d allow someone to be in a position to hurt you?”

  “You’re all I have, Nate. You’re the only one who ever understood me or what I went through, you know that? Not even Micha.” She sniffs. “Certainly not Pops.”

  “Pops understood.”

  “He knew more than he let on.” Nora takes a half step back, quickly wiping her cheeks with her hand. “Enough about them. Get back to Jack. Antony said you were the one who did it. Is that true?”

  “Micha’s gone, Nor. It had to be me.”

  “Are you all right?” She looks up at me, and I’m surprised by the tender concern in her eyes, considering the reason for it.

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “I’ve been around it all my life.”

  “You’ve never taken it that far.”

  “Even if Micha were still here, I would have been the one to kill him because he betrayed you.”

  Nora lets out a long sigh as she rests her cheek on my chest.

  “I’m not getting married again,” she says quietly. “Not right away, at least. I took the bullet the last time. It should be you.”

  “I know.”

  “Who?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Are you going to start looking?” Nora looks up at me.

  “I haven’t thought about it too much yet.”

  “But you’ll do it, right?” Nora’s voice quavers. “I can’t do it again, Nate. I clearly need to take more time to find someone who can not only deal with my shit but won’t be a fucking traitor to my family.”

  “Take your time, Nor.” I rub her back gently, hoping she isn’t focusing on the traumatic part of her past. “I only want what’s best for you. You know that. You deserve someone right for you.”

  “I want a funeral.” She takes a half step back, her hands on my arms as she looks right into my eyes.

  Ah, shit.

  “Then you’d better call Threes,” I say, shaking my head slowly, “before he gets rid of the body.”

  “Are you serious?” She takes another step away from me, eyes wide.

  I raise my hands up in front of me and open my mouth, but there isn’t really anything I can say.

  “You better call him and stop him.” Nora stomps out of the office, calling me a couple of filthy names before slamming the door behind her.

  I sit in my chair with a heavy sigh, embracing the silence and looking over the broken glass on the floor. She’s right to call me names. Maybe I should have told her what was happening before it all went down, but I knew what she would try to do. She’d try to talk me out of it, and I’ve always had a soft spot for Nora, even if she is a year older than I am. I’d start second-guessing my decisions, and that is no way to run this family.

  “Priorities,” I mumble quietly to myself.

  I grab my phone and tap the screen.

  “Yes, Mr. Orso?”

  “Andrea, can you come in here please? There’s a bit of a mess.”

  “Of course, Mr. Orso.”

  Andrea appears a few seconds later and immediately begins to clean up the glass. Her blonde hair swirls around her shoulders as she bops from one part of the room to another, cleaning up the glass and muttering to herself. She places the broken ashtray in the trashcan and then immediately begins to disinfect every surface in the room. Once everything is wiped down, she rushes out and returns with a new ashtray and a steam cleaner for the carpet.

  “It was only glass,” I tell her.

  “You can never be too careful,” Andrea replies. “Germs are everywhere, and I don’t want any of you kids getting sick on top of everything else you’ve been through.”

  My phone dings.

  Threes: I gotta fish this body out of the lake?

  I can’t help but grin as I reply with a yes, and he responds with an emoji of a head exploding.

  The whole marriage thing is going to be a problem. I have exactly zero prospects, and though Nora is quick to fall in love, I’m not going to put her through all that again. She’s right—she needs time, and I’m going to give it to her. Her own boredom is likely to make her stick her nose in the business, and that isn’t going to be helpful to me. Maybe if I come up with a woman for myself, she could end up being Nora’s pet project and give my sister somewhere to focus her energy. How long will it take for me to find someone? A week? A month? How long does it take to find the right woman and convince her to fall madly in love with me? Where do I even start?

  I have no idea.

  Chapter 6—Big O

  I step out of the car and hand my keys to the valet.

  “I’ll take good care of her, sir!”

  I hand him a twenty. When he thanks me, I give him a dismissive wave as I walk casually past the short line to the club’s entrance. I know he’s going to take care of my car. He knows the consequences of not doing so.

  Ah, the club. The Big O. My club.

  My father hated the very idea of having such a place in our collection of business ventures, but he needs to get over himself and his generation. Not only is the Big O a great source of legitimate funds, it’s also the perfect place to conduct illicit business, launder money, and have a damn good time.

  The line isn’t very long for a Friday night, and I grit my teeth as I pass all the scantily clad women and leather-clad guys waiting to get in. I hear a few of them call my name and wave as I move to the front. Before I can get there, Threes moves up to me.

  “What’s up, Threes?”

  “Just some fucking crazy trying to get in.”

  “Who?”

  “Fuck if I know. Never seen him before. Better go in around back either way.”

  I look over to see Reynolds, the bouncer, arguing with a would-be patron who’s holding a large, female blow-up doll.

  “You can’t bring that in here,” Reynolds says firmly.

  “I get five bucks off the cover charge if I bring a date!”

  “She ain’t no fucking date, bro!” Reynolds puts his hand on the guy’s shoulder to keep him from moving forward. “The cover is ten each! Ya only get five off a date on Saturdays when a band is playing!”

  “This is Monica! She’s my homegirl! I can’t leave my homegirl in the car, dammit! I got thirty-five right here!”

  “I already told ya it’s ten each! And you are not bringing her in here!”

  “I have to!” The desperation in his voice actually manages to reach an even higher level. I mean, how hard up does a guy have to be to bring a plastic date?

  Reynolds folds his arms across his broad chest and narrows his eyes.

  “You let the air out, and you can come in.”

  “What? I can’t do that! She’s my homegirl!”

  “Homegirl gotta go flat if you want in.”

  Threes chokes on his own laughter, and I have to bite my lip to keep my own burst inside.

  “No!” the guy cries out. He looks longingly at Monica the sex doll. “She spent hours getting ready. She’ll be sad.”

  “Homegirl gotta go flat,” Reynolds repeats.

  I have no idea how he’s doing this with a straight face. Threes grabs me by the elbow and leads me toward the back entrance as Reynolds continues to argue with the “couple.”

  “What a whack job.” Threes lets out a low whistle and then laughs heartily.

  “Yeah, that can’t be good for business.”

  “His money is still good,” Threes says with a shrug. “He’ll probably pay the whole thirty-five and then be thrown out within the first twenty minutes anyway.”

  “I don’t need that kind of commotion tonight.”

  “You never know
, boss.” Threes grins. “People videotape that shit, post it on the web, and suddenly the club is a hotspot.”

  “Are you saying it’s not a hotspot now? Where else are people going to go, the lodge?” I shake my head and hold up a hand when Threes starts to respond. I don’t want to get into it with him. I want to get a drink and relax a little. It’s been a long-ass day.

  Inside the club, the DJ has the music up loud enough that conversation is nearly impossible without shouting, but no one seems to care. People writhe on the dance floor to the heavy electronic beat and the bartenders rush around to get everyone their drinks. The dance floor is only about half full of people, but the bar is busy with a crowd of barely twenty-one-year-old college students.

  It's not the kind of crowd I’d prefer. I’d rather have patrons that buy expensive drinks and don’t cause a ruckus. College kids buy beer and shots, then puke all over the dance floor. When the club first opened, I’d hoped for a slightly more upscale vibe, but sometimes a venue takes on its own life, and I’ve gotten used to it. I haven’t spent enough time here lately, and I should probably make some rounds and mingle.

  Later.

  I settle into the luxurious, semicirclular VIP couch overlooking the bar and the dance area. I lean back and signal the bartender, Jude. He’s my third or fourth cousin or nephew or something like that—I’m not sure. The family resemblance is certainly there, but I could never figure out exactly how his mother was related to my father.

  Jude gives me a quick nod, and a bottle of bourbon is brought to the table. I scan the club, not really paying attention to anyone in particular. I recognize a lot of regulars, most of whom give me some kind of wave or other greeting from afar. I return the meaningless gestures one by one, flashing each of them a proper smile. At least they’re still here, taking up most of the bar seats.

  Two young women slide up to me, taking the spots on either side of me. I smile at them as I try to remember their names, but nothing comes to me. Oh well. They don’t seem to mind and immediately begin talking to each other. They’re just excited to be sitting in the VIP area, and I don’t mind pretty company that doesn’t actually want any kind of conversation.

  The women are perfect examples of exactly what I don’t want in a wife—thin, beautiful, overly made up, and completely shallow. They sit next to me to be seen with me and have no idea who or what I am past the name.