What the fuck did he do now?
The question that defines my life. With an addict as a father, it’s a question that plagues my days, because it’s always something with him.
“Uh, excuse me?” I try to grab the attention of the tall brute of a man that is currently wreaking havoc on my apartment. My belongings are scattered around the place. Items I’ve collected lay in broken pieces by my feet.
I know the drill.
Debt collectors will terrorize and threaten you and all you hold dear in order to get the money they’re owed. Somehow, I always become the person they come too. My father is notoriously hard to find and even if you can get your hands on him, he’s broke. Every dime that touches his hand is gambled away or traded for a bottle faster than you can blink.
Still, he claims he’s not an addict.
So they come to me, the only one in my family with a semblance of a life and any sort of money in my bank account. Sometimes they threaten to break my bones, but that normally doesn’t get my father to pay. It works better for them if they threaten me instead. They break things, promise to kill my brother or my father. Threaten to harm me. They toss around all kinds of threats, all of the promises if they don’t get the money their owed.
The man in front of me raises a challenging eyebrow. It says do you really want to fuck with me?
I don’t, but the problem is I don’t even know what he owes, where he is, anything really.
My father, Danny Byrne, disappeared ten months ago and I haven’t heard a word from him since.
Honestly, it was better this way.
I’ve made peace with it. He’s not my father really, I have to believe that if a man loved his children he wouldn’t have treated us the way he did.
Suddenly I’m more aware of my size. I feel small next to this giant, and it doesn’t help that there are two others somewhere in my place. I hear them tossing things and yelling back and forth even though I can’t see them from my place in the living room.
I’m strong and my muscles have been getting better since I started working at the nursing home. I can lift patients into beds, tubs, and showers with little assistance, but these men are stronger. It’s evident by the ripples of muscle, and even if they weren’t strong, they’re much larger than me.
I’ve learned that fighting doesn’t work with these guys, at least for me. I have a much easier time using my charm, the little I have than if I try to act tough. I don’t think my blonde hair helps my case if we’re being honest. Men try to collect from me and see a weak, skinny, blonde girl. They don’t care to see what’s behind those appearances as long as I pay them.
“I was just wondering what you’re looking for? My father’s not here.” I say in a sweet, non-threatening voice. A voice that says, don’t hurt me, I’m just a girl.
Like I said, these men prefer my charm.
“I don’t give a fuck about your father.” He chuckles, taking a box of photographs from the bookshelf and dumping them out on the floor.
This is the type of guy who does this shit for fun.
I want to punch him for the mess he’s making, instead I steel my features and try again. “Who are you looking for then?”
“Johnny Byrne.”
My heart stops for a minute. My whole body is radiating with this numb sensation.
There’s no fucking way.
My brother, my baby brother, is not that stupid.
The state of my apartment tells a different story.
“What?” Johnny was supposed to be in Boston working. He had made a huge ordeal about getting a job and moving into an apartment with our cousin Rob. He even brought over flowers for me when he relayed the news.
Don’t worry ‘bout me Annie bananie. He’d said, using my pet name and flashing a smile. He seemed good. Genuinely happy.
I believed him.
“What does he owe you?” the words leave my lips in a hush tone.
I had spent my life taking care of Johnny.
The brute gives me a toothy grin. “Fifty grand, got that lying around, sweetheart?”
My heart sinks.
No, I definitely did not have that lying around.
Working part-time and going to nursing school did not afford me much extra money, and definitely not that much.