19. Chapter 19

A drik

My brother was a married man.

Again.

I should have been mingling with his guests, but I wasn’t in the mood to pretend like I gave a fuck. Preferring to sit at the bar with a bourbon in my hand, I let my mind wander over the past. How had I missed the signs that my brother was a family man? At least, he would be when Toula started popping out brats. I’d have to convince him to wrap it, but he wouldn’t listen to me. There was no way I was going to watch little Ilyas run around, slobbering all over my suit pants.

No, thanks. I’d already raised a kid that wasn’t mine. Once was enough. Looking out into the ballroom at my brother, I knew at least I hadn’t done an awful job for not having a fucking clue. It didn’t mean that I was suddenly going to become best friends with his wife and play the doting uncle to his future kids. I wasn’t. I didn’t give a fuck, and they’d be lucky if I showed up .

Thinking of the future, I instantly rejected the idea. I preferred living in the past. I didn’t tell anyone, but I was more comfortable living in familiarity. The outcome was always going to be the same, and I could breathe a little easier. I’d lived in constant chaos since the day I’d been born, and while I hid most of my demons, they had a way of resurfacing at the worst possible time.

My eyes focused on my brother again. He was near the front of the ballroom, speaking to one of our newer associates. I didn’t care for the man. He was too eager, constantly asking for illegal substances. He thought selling drugs out of his laundromat to the stay-at-home moms was going to make him filthy rich. Unless he calmed down, the answer would always be no. I’d pulled Ilya aside, voicing my concerns that we weren’t the only ones the man was trying to solicit. I bet he’d be in jail by the end of the year. My brother had laughed, telling me he agreed.

Ilya shifted his stance, completely facing me. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he winked at me. My brother fucking twitched his eye in my direction. I instantly pictured the dilapidated house on the corner.

While my mother had remained consumed by her misery, Ilya had been a happy toddler. He had constantly smiled and had giggled at the stupidest things. I had been born hardened, but Ilya had lost his youth quickly. Our mother had checked out, taking her own life. A botched job had killed his father. The smiles that came so easily had become sneers or smirks.

One night, several weeks after the raid, I had gone looking for him to tie up some loose ends. He hadn’t been in his office, and one of the staff had said to check the living room. I should have left, and then perhaps I wouldn’t have lasting scars .

I had had to lean against the doorway of the living room, so that I wouldn’t die of shock. The TV had shown a popular superhero movie I would never have admitted to watching. My eyes had left the TV and scanned over the carpet to the coffee table, lined with every kind of snack imaginable. I think I had made a distressed sound, but there was whooshing in my ears, so I couldn’t be sure.

“Sit and watch the movie,” my brother had said, catching my attention as he waved his arm. Ilya was laying in her arms, no shirt, wearing superhero pajama pants. As I had tried to reconcile what was in front of me, he had held up a bowl of popcorn. It had been surreal, and I had walked out saying nothing. No. Just no.

I would have never told them, but they were good for each other. He had always been calm and collected, but she smoothed the remaining ragged edges. I bitched a lot about her, but she would influence him to be a better man, a better boss. It was fear that drove me to lash out at the both of them, but I would never explain, nor would I ever apologize for it.

Clearing my head, I went back to surveying the guests at the reception. I should have been out there, but I couldn’t find it in me to give a fuck. I was content sitting at the bar. The bartender kept refilling my glass without being asked, and I figured being out of the way was enough of a wedding present. There were a few people that tried to open conversation, but once they saw I wasn’t paying attention, they made some excuse to talk later. No, they wouldn’t be contacting me, or if they did, I wouldn’t be answering.

Taking a drink, I perused the room again. My eyes instantly sought my brother, and when I found him, I breathed a sigh of relief. They had migrated to the middle of the ballroom, speaking to more guests. His back was to me, but he held Toula close to his side. As much as I spewed distrust her way, I’d have to protect her. They would target Toula to reach Ilya, and I refused to lose him.

Thinking of Toula’s protection, I scanned the room, looking for the Greeks. Her parents were on opposite sides of the room, and I wanted to laugh. Her mother was speaking with one of the Italians, and the don was entertaining the Yakuza. If the rumors were correct, the don was making back door deals that would eventually burst. It reeked of desperation. Sophia was laughing with a group of girls that appeared to be her own age, but I didn’t see the family menace.

Katalina was a pain in my ass on a good day. She’d been a mouthy kid, but most people had shrugged off her behavior. They claimed it was only a phase, and she’d grow out of it. No one had wanted to look beyond the stunning surface. At eighteen, she’d learned how to game the system, saying the most provocative things as she batted her eyelashes. Her mother wasn’t pleased. The don had pulled the family’s guards, forcing Kat to call me when she couldn’t control her mouth. If I ignored the calls, she’d keep dialing until I picked up. I told myself I was saving her from a massive beating she probably deserved.

A delicate hand plucked my bourbon out of my hand as her arm stretched across the back of my shoulders. Only one person would be brave enough to touch me, and as I twisted on the bar stool to look at her, she drained the remaining liquor from my glass.

“Having fun?” she asked, placing the empty glass back in my hand.

“It’s a wedding,” I replied dryly.

She laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. “You and I both know that no one wants to be here for an actual wedding. Not even the bride and groom.”

She wasn’t wrong. I had asked Ilya why he was allowing such an enormous event. He’d already been married once, and I didn’t think he cared about this sort of thing .

My brother had laughed. “I don’t care, and Toula is only appeasing her mother. This is one of the few times that the Greeks will have their way. We still get to control the narrative, and I get their daughter. Win. Motherfucking. Win.”

“Try not to break the merchandise before you’ve bought it,” I had replied. He hadn’t found it amusing, so I had quickly retreated.

Katalina leaned against me, her arm still laying across my neck and her hand patting my shoulder. “This is the social event of the season, Ad. Since the announcement, people have been clamoring for an invitation from my mother. She’d find it insulting if she knew you weren’t having any fun. There’s more networking going on than speed dating. Or is it not red enough for you?”

“Don’t call me that.” I waited a second, and then my brain clicked at something she’d just said. “What do you know about speed dating? They don’t let you escape your ivory tower.”

“That’s what you think,” she said as she winked at me. “There are a lot of things that people falsely assume about me. I let them.”

“What? Better to let them think you’re an airhead, rather than prove them right?” Kat wasn’t dumb. In fact, if she’d applied herself, she’d rival Toula in success.

“Aren’t you a little young to have such a jaded perspective?” She was baiting me for the fun of it.

I didn’t bother responding as I broke her hold. Twisting on the barstool, I turned towards the bar, searching for the bartender. I needed a fresh drink. Immediately.

“I prefer to be a realist,” she continued. “At least I don’t have to pretend that my shit doesn’t stink.”

“You better not let your mother hear that mouth of yours.” I wouldn’t be able to save her here. If I stepped in, the don would seek retribution from my brother. It wouldn’t start a war, but I wasn’t willing to defend Katalina over something stupid she’d said.

“Maybe I’ll just find someone who prefers my mouth’s other talents.”

When I didn’t respond, she winked at me again and moved on to her next victim. One day, she’d run into the man who wouldn’t back down from her. He’d take her in hand and crush that outward spirit. I’d pay big money to see that happen.

Looking at my brother again, I couldn’t help the jealousy that developed deep in my gut. I craved a woman of my own, but every time I thought I was close to the dream, reality kicked in. I was my mother’s son, preferring the whores in our brothels to anything real. Pick one off the menu. Get your rocks off and leave. Quick and easy.

Texting the madame at the house, I scheduled a dick appointment for later. I’d burn these thoughts off deep in the pussy of some nameless whore.

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