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Abel immediately starts crying.
The man looks between Mickey and me. “How was I supposed to know? I heard you shouting and thought that shithead, Dimitri, came back.”
Mickey points his meaty finger at me. “Does she look like Dimitri?”
The bald guy looks at me, as if he needs another look to answer the question, then says sheepishly, “No.”
“Fuck!” Mickey says in disgust and throws his hands up in the air. “I’m surrounded by stupid.”
The bald man’s head dips in shame. “Sorry, boss.”
All the while I try my best to calm Abel down.
Gently bouncing him, I rub his back and murmur soothing words. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s okay, I promise. Mommy’s got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Mickey looks over at Abel and me then scowls. “Bring me some scotch.”
Obviously eager to make up for his mistake, the bald man bobs his head up and down. “Right away, boss.”
“And bring some… refreshments for my niece and grandnephew,” Mickey tacks on.
The bald man freezes for a moment then glances over his shoulder at Mickey. He starts to open his mouth but stops the second Mickey glares daggers at him.
“Right away, boss,” the bald man repeats and disappears through the door that leads to the kitchen.
Uncle Mickey motions for me to approach as he lowers back down to the couch with a grunt.
For a split-second, everything inside me screams to turn around. To not go down this road.
I know exactly where it ends—in death.
This place, this man killed my father.
But, again, what other choice do I have?
For Abel’s sake, I move forward.
For his future, I continue to rub his little back and kiss the top of his head as I sit down on the couch opposite of Uncle Mickey.
Ready to pay for my sins and make a deal with the devil.
Uncle Mickey eyes me up and down then leans forward, hand reaching for the cigar he dropped in the ashtray before he must think better of it. Looking at Abel, he frowns and leans back.
Shifting in his seat, making the old leather creak, he tries to get comfortable.
“So…” he drawls out finally, looking a little uneasy. “What brings you here, Eden?”
Nothing would make me happier than to relish in making him uncomfortable. To draw this shit out.
But I don’t have time. Abel is almost out of formula.
The words sour in my stomach before I push them out of my mouth. “I need a job.”
“Oh?” Uncle Mickey sits up a little straighter.
He’s used to people coming to him for shit, and he’s probably relieved I’m not here to harass him about my father’s death.
When I nod my head sharply in confirmation, his lips twitch with the threat of a smirk. “Is Kyle not providing for you? Should I have a talk with his father? He and I go way back.”
