I've been working for him, the Family, in a casual way for over four years. Usually, that means breaking things when debts are overdue. It isn’t personal. I usually check on them the next day; I even help clean up the rubble.
But I love my job.
Fucken ay, I'm fourteen and above the goddamn law.
I turn my gaze out over the lush green lawn to watch as my brother Max jogs back and forth with a fucking leather rugby ball clutched in his grasp like it's the Holy Grail. He is obsessed with that game. And well,fuck, my beautiful brother is talented. Ambitious. That level of commitment, of interest, is foreign to me. I've never found anything I care about. . .
At least not more than my brothers.
Xander runs after him, only ten and too fucking clever for his own good. He is always jumping into one of our shadows when he should be lighting his own path.
Turning back to Jimmy and my dad, I observe them in awe as they eye my mum, who is approaching them like a fly hovering too close to their meals. Despite the abuse she inflicts on us, I haven't managed to hate her yet.
Not like Max does.
But I do imagine her death.
Often.
She mutters something and attempts to sit on my dad's lap. He holds a hand out to stop her. Jimmy grins easily at her but waves her away. Tight-lipped, my mother fights her predisposition to scowl at the dismissal, and I smile so wide, my cheeks hurt.
Powerful men like these are elitists with whom they share their conversation.
Their respect.
These men have earned it.
I will too.
As I turn to join my brothers, Jimmy grabs the back of Uncle Gio's neck and slams his face down onto the wooden table, clattering their short whiskey glasses. A howl and a hiss escape Gio as his nose spills open, leaking dark red fluid all over the wood. It happens quick. Blood now glitters the table.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath.
Jimmy's eyes shoot to me and hold me hostage.
Unable to get out of the snare of those brown irises, I simply stare back. My uncle is groaning, gripping the bridge of his nose as his wife rushes around cleaning up the mess. The other men seem unfazed, if not a little inconvenienced. I'm not sure how long we stare at each other, but suddenly, I'm drawn from his eyes by my mum as she pulls me away from them.
"Stop staring! Are you slow?" she snaps, tugging me by the arm.
"Leave the boy," I hear Jimmy call out to her, and I laugh at the red-painted lips now sneering at me. "In fact, Vicky, bring him a chair. I believe your boy has something he would like to say to me."
Holy fucking shit.
If looks could kill, my mum would have exploded my face. I saunter over to Jimmy, waiting to sit on the chair being positioned beside him at the table.
I glance around, first at the men now eyeing me with approving smirks and then at Gio as he stuffs his nostrils with tissues, his blood seeping into the thin mesh, dying it pink.
Jimmy picks up a card and cleans the blood off it by wiping it across my uncle's forearm. "Why were you watching me?" he asks smoothly, not glancing in my direction.
I swallow my nerves down, knowing there is no place for them at this table. "I don't know."
He doesn't look at me as he sorts the cards in his hand, arranging the queen and king and ace, placing them in order. "Do you want to know why I did that?"
Glancing at my uncle Gio, I try not to appear shocked and confused by the altercation nor the fact that Gio is still sitting here, tending to himself and none the more irritated. "Yeah," I admit.
Jimmy places his cards face down on the table before fixing me with a serious expression. "Because your uncle forgot himself." His eyes stay locked on mine, but he directs his words to Gio. "Didn't you?"
I dart my gaze to him as he says, "Yes, Jimmy."