Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“For what it’s worth,” Carter said. “I really like her.”
“You don’t even know her, Carter.”
“I don’t need to know her. She makes you happy—and that’s all that matters.”
We arrived in Tuscany, driving through the golden fields and eyeing the endless vineyards. Ruined castles dotted the remote land, and on a clear day like this, Florence could be seen in the distance.
“It’s time to make the call,” Carter said.
I pulled out my phone and stared at my father’s name before dialing. I was dreading this, but the dread would only increase the longer I procrastinated.
My father answered almost immediately. “Hey, son. How are you?”
Pretty shitty. “Good. Carter and I are on the road, and we’re thirty minutes from the house.”
My father paused for a while. “I didn’t know you were stopping by. What a nice surprise.”
It wouldn’t be that nice pretty soon. “Carter and I need to talk to you and Uncle Cane. And we should talk somewhere in private…”
Another pause endured, but this one much longer than before. He didn’t ask any questions like most people would. He had the patience of a monk. A sigh didn’t erupt over the phone. “Cane and I will meet you there. Should your mother be involved?”
“Definitely not.”
“We’ll meet you soon.”
My father’s office was one of the rooms in the house I hardly visited growing up. I was told to stay out of it, and even as I got older, that rule never changed. Now that I sat there on the couch with Carter beside me, I understood why.
My dad had enough scotch to last an apocalypse.
The fireplace was empty because it hadn’t been used in three months. His dark desk seemed just as untouched. He had two couches that faced each other, and on the walls were peculiar paintings constructed of buttons.
Is that why he called my mother Button? Did she make those?
My father poured four glasses of scotch and sat with Uncle Cane. The four of us faced each other, and my father and Uncle Cane stared us down with a silent coldness. Like they were meeting an enemy rather than their own family, they were harsh.
“Be straight.” My father brought his hands together with his elbows resting on his knees.
“Spit it out,” Uncle Cane said. “Or we’ll drag it out.”
I felt like a young boy again, being disciplined by my guardians. Most parents wanted to be the only ones who disciplined their children, but my father and uncle were different. My uncle had been a second father to me. If I acted out of line, he didn’t hesitate before giving me a good smack. My father did the same to Carter. “I’ll start with the important information and work backward.”
“Alright,” my father said. “What is it?”
I didn’t want to say his name out loud because I knew how much it angered my father. My father didn’t talk about the past very often, and that was for a reason. He lived through more than I knew, and I could see the pain behind his eyes anytime the past was mentioned. “Bones has a son.”
My father tensed slightly, his eyes narrowing even more than before.
Uncle Cane was a lot more transparent. Both of his hands automatically tightened into fists.
“He’s our age, give or take a few years,” Carter said. “His mother was pregnant when the older Bones died. She named her son after him, at least, made Bones his middle name.”
“But that’s the name he goes by now,” I said. “That’s what he calls himself. He’s covered in tattoos, he’s arrogant, and he’s associated with the Underground. He knows the Skull Kings, and anytime we’ve asked someone about him, there’s fear in their eyes. Once we confirmed he really was who we thought he was, we knew we had to tell you.”
My father looked at Uncle Cane.
Uncle Cane stared back.
The silence stretched, becoming heavier with every passing second.
My father spoke first. “I want to know how you even crossed paths with him. How do you know who the Skull Kings are, and how did you find the Underground? But I suspect ignorance is better at this point…so I don’t murder my own son.”
As much as I wanted to look away, I didn’t. I held his gaze, seeing the fierce disappointment in his expression. It hurt. It hurt so much that I wished he would just punch me in the face instead. An apology would fit right about now, but I knew they were just empty words to him.
“And mine,” Uncle Cane added.
Carter held his father’s gaze, but I knew he felt like shit just the way I did.
“Fuck it.” Uncle Cane rose off the sofa and helped himself to my father’s desk. He pulled out two cigars, lit them, and then handed one to my father.
My father didn’t hesitate before he took it.
“Booze isn’t gonna cut it this time.” Uncle Cane sat down again, sucking on the tip of the cigar like it was air rather than smoky ash.