“Ugh,” I moan. “I don’t think my stomach can handle it.”
“Come on, Black. I thought you were made of stronger stuff.”
She’s back to calling me Black again. And I didn’t miss her declaration to her father. She doesn’t want to be Black. She just wants this to be over. She wants to pretend this life never existed. That I never existed.
It hurts, but not as much as drinking this liquor is going to.
“Fine.”
She smiles triumphantly and climbs up on the counter to reach the bottle herself.
I reach for a couple of high ball glasses so I can at least mix coke or something into it to disguise the taste.
She wags her finger at me. And then reaches behind me for the shot glasses.
Oh, hell no.
“Seriously? Shots?”
She nods. “We are about to get wasted.”
I sigh. I would do anything for this girl. She has somehow snuck onto my very limited list of people I would lay down my life to protect. That list includes Langston and Zeke. Both brothers who would protect me as readily as I protect them. Then there is Liesel and Kai. Only four people I truly care about.
Kai carries the bottle and shot glasses over to the biggest couch, sits, and pours two shots.
I sit next to her and reluctantly take one of the glasses. She holds hers out with a huge smile on her face, and suddenly this is all worth it. I’d drink myself to death with the shitty liquor just to see her smile.
We both slam the drink down, and I try not to vomit from the taste.
“Why do you like this so much?”
“I grew up on this shit. You think my father could afford better?”
Yes, I think your father could afford a lot more on the quarter of a million dollar salary we paid him each year.
She frowns, realizing her mistake, and pours another shot for each of us.
“So what do you think the next round in the game will be?” she asks, trying to move on from her father.
I sigh. “I don’t know. But if I know my father, it will be cruel and twisted. Something neither of us wants to do.”
Her eyes grow bigger at that thought. Stealing from Milo was easy. He was a rich asshole who stole and beat women. He deserved everything and more than we did to him. But my dad could order us to kill an innocent. And at least one of us would have to do it if we want the games to stop.
She raises the new shot. “To shitty fathers.”
“To shitty fathers.”
We both down another shot of poison. This time it goes down a little easier.
“You start,” she says, referring to the game of truth or lies I promised. She pours more liquor into both of our glasses while I lean back, getting comfortable on the couch.
I say the first thing I’m thinking, “I healed after what my father did to me, and so will you. Truth or lie?”
&
nbsp; “Lie, drink,” she says. She downs her shot, and so do I. She refills our glasses before she speaks.
“I forgave my father for selling me.”