Page 96 of Goose

“My father died from cirrhosis of the liver,” I admitted. “He drank himself to death.”

It was difficult to believe that the man I’d earlier claimed was my hero was a drunk. A drunk that was so deep in his addiction that he drank himself through four stages of cirrhosis, and to death.

“Oh, shit. I just assumed…I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Before he got sick, his hands shook really bad if he went any period of time without a drink. That’s why he taught me to crack safes. He could not hold still enough to do it himself. He lost his touch. I started doing it at his place of business when I was a teenager. Then, one night when he was drunk, he told me why he really did it.”

“Damn. At least you guys were close until the end, though.” He rolled onto his side. “You were, right?”

“He was pretty much my only friend,” I said. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t get frustrated with him. He did dumb stuff. He said dumb stuff. But, I knew it wasn’t really him. It was a drunken version of him. I’ve heard people say if you get a drunken asshole to sober up, you’re left with an asshole. Well, my father was a good guy. So, when he was drunk, he was a pretty good drunken guy.” I laughed. “Most of the time.”

“Sounds like you guys maintained a good relationship.”

“We did,” I said. “That’s the point I was going to make. We maintained a good relationship despite him making a butt-load of bad decisions. I’m not telling you what to do, but I’ll suggest that it’s been eighteen years. That’s a long, long time.”

“Not going to happen,” he said. “I’ve got my life, and they’ve got theirs. There’s no sense in me giving them a chance to do something to hurt me again.”

“So, if someone disrespects you, you’re done with them?”

“If someone does it repeatedly,” he said. “Absolutely. I write them off.”

I didn’t know his parents, and I couldn’t pretend to know the grief that they’d put him thorough. I could do my best to cause him to consider giving them a chance to make amends, though.

“Using that logic,” I reasoned. “I should just walk away from the club now.”

He sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“Not what,” I said. “Who.”

Then, at the same time, we both said his name.

“Cash.”