“That’s right.” He leaned a hip against Andrew’s car. “Still haven’t heard from your old man?”
“Stop baiting me. You know I haven’t.”
Handler took his time unloading a cigarette from a fresh pack and lighting it. “How do you think I know that?”
Andrew ordered himself to remain calm. Outwardly at least.
On the inside, he was a defendant standing before the judge during sentencing.
“Last time I saw your father, he wouldn’t shut up about the Belmont Stakes. He was going to the races the next day. Had all his bets lined up. And then, nothing. He’s just gone. I found that pretty strange.” He jabbed the air with his cigarette. “You never reported him missing, son. Told the customers he’d fucked off to Florida.”
“That’s right.”
“Nothing happened that night to send him on his way?”
Andrew pretended to think, as if that night wasn’t branded on his insides. “Nothing remarkable.”
“No?” Keeping the cigarette perched between his lips, Handler withdrew a small notepad from his back pocket. “Took me some time to track down your receipts from your hardware store trip that night. A tarp, bleach, gloves…ringing a bell?”
His lungs started to burn. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You paid cash. Smart. But I’ve got the time-stamped security footage.” He winked at Andrew. “Matches the receipt to the second.”
“What exactly are you trying to prove here?”
“Ah, come on.” Handler lowered his voice. “Your old man was an ugly bastard that knocked your mother around, son. You, too, if I recall those black eyes correctly. I understand why you done what you done, but it’s time to lay down in the bed you made.”
Despite the roaring in Andrew’s ears, he heard the front door of Jiya’s house open and denial speared him. There she stood behind the screen, wearing her emerald green robe, her eyebrows drawn together. No. Not happening. Not right now. He’d had nightmares about this moment and it was here. It was landing on him like a forty-ton anvil. But if Jiya got mixed up in any part of this, he would never forgive himself.
Jiya pushed open the screen door and he shook his head.
She ignored him, of course. “Andrew?”
“Go back inside, Jiya.”
Her distaste was obvious as she gave Handler a measuring once-over and he loved her so much. More with every second. Loyal, perfect, beautiful girl. Didn’t she know he wasn’t worth her concern? If she knew what accusations Handler was making, she would never look at him the same again. And she shouldn’t. He wasn’t fit to speak her name. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Please,” Andrew said, pinching the bridge of his nose until it hurt. “Go inside, Jiya.”
I can’t stand having you around this ugliness. The ugliness I created.
“No—”
“I said, go back in the fucking house!”
His best friend, the great love of his life, stumbled back like she’d been slapped. Tears sprung to her eyes and when she ran into the house, tripping a little over the hem of her robe, Andrew wished he was dead. Maybe he already was. What was the point of living anymore, when he couldn’t have Jiya and now this? Now his chickens had come home to roost. No escaping now. Numbness began to steal through Andrew and he welcomed it.
“Jesus, son. Maybe you did inherit your daddy’s mean streak.”
“Just tell me what you want,” Andrew rasped. “Is this blackmail?”
“Blackmail is such an unsavory word. I’m just letting you know I’ve got collateral.” He stubbed his cigarette out on the roof of Andrew’s car. “When your father was around, he let us use the basement of the Castle Gate as a kind of…storage facility. Once a week, some packages get delivered by one party. The next day, a second party picks up. Easy as pie.”
“What’s in the packages?”
Handler hit him with a narrow look. “You sure you want to know?”
“Drugs or guns?”
“Neither. Electronics.”
Andrew let that sink in. “So my father used the bar as a halfway point between trafficker and dealer.” More dots connected and disgust roiled in Andrew’s stomach. “And I’m guessing you get a cut to let this all happen in Long Beach. Is that what you’re telling me?”
He hated the cop’s impressed expression. Wanted to clean it off his face with one good right hook. “You’re smarter than you look,” Handler said.
Andrew shook his head. “Fuck you. I’m not doing it.”
Handler’s sudden, thunderous frown lines reminded Andrew of his father. “You don’t have to do shit except look the other way.”
“Look the other way?” Andrew echoed with a scoff. “You know how hard I’ve worked to make that place respectable after my father almost ran it into the ground? My brothers and I…it’s our livelihood. It’s all we’ve got and we’re proud of it.”
“Right.” His smile was sly. Sarcastic. “And it was real decent of your daddy to sign the deed over to you, wasn’t it? Being that he was in such a rush to get to Florida. I’m sure a handwriting expert wouldn’t call the signature on that deed a forgery. Or would they?”