Once Victor closed, the door behind him Anthony and I stared at one another in an awkward silence, giving me the opportunity to size him up. He was a big brute of a guy standing about six feet three inches tall with his dark hair slicked back. I swear the guy had stock in a gel company somewhere. He had the same hairstyle since I could remember the only difference now was that at the age of thirty he had some gray hairs creeping along his hairline. His face was young, not a line on his olive skin. However, his crystal blue eyes were hard and uninviting when you looked at them. Anthony was as intimidating as they came. He could take you to your knees with one cold hard stare. He was wearing a black fitted T-shirt despite the cold temperatures and the fact that it was January. He had bulked up since I had last seen him not to mention he had gotten some ink. He had full sleeves of tattoos covering his arms. I guess I’d be shitting my pants if I didn’t know him or maybe if I actually gave a fuck.
“Where are your keys?” He asked, seemingly running out of patience. Someone didn’t like the fact that they had to babysitting the drunken orphan. Are you still considered an orphan at twenty-six? I squinted, trying to figure out why he needed my keys. He sighed heavily. “Mike, let’s get some shit out of the way, yeah? I’m really sorry you lost your mother. I get that you’re mourning and I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through but I’m not Victor. I’m not going to remain silent and catch an attitude from your ass. I’m not into playing games don’t have any fucking patience for them. So I’m going to ask you again where are your keys?”
I looked at him for a moment raising an eyebrow at his no nonsense tone. It was then that I realized that while I was passing through one shit storm after another my brother my best friend grew up. Hell, he could’ve been married with a fleet of kids for all I knew. I’d even gather that he was high in the ranks when it came to Victor’s organization. I set down the bottle of liquor on the table reaching into my pocket for my keys I held them out towards him.
“Is there any gas in that piece of shit truck of yours or are we going to have to first stop at the gas station?” He said as he took the keys from my hand reaching for the garment bag.
“Wait, why are we taking my truck?” I asked, wondering how much I actually had to drink.
“How do you suppose we get back to New York? We going to spread our wings and fly?” He turned around, mumbled what sounded like a bunch of curses to me, and walked out the front door.
I stood there half sloshed half mind-fucked. If I strained my brain it made sense that the three of them came here in one car, why didn’t the four of us drive back together? That I couldn’t wrap my head around. It was probably wiser not to ask questions and just go with the flow seeing as how Anthony was currently on the rag.
I took a deep breath headed to the door, turning back to glance over my shoulder at the home I would be leaving behind. In that moment I realized why my mother was so hell bent on moving from the home we had lived in with my father. Finally understanding her need to escape the demon's death left behind I stepped outside closing the door softly behind me. What’s that saying? When one door closes, another opens? So that’s what I did. I closed the door on my mother’s death only to open the one that would lead me down the trail of reliving my father’s.
“Wake up princess.” Anthony says, shoving my shoulder forcefully. I groggily blink my eyes open, realizing I must’ve dozed off on the ride. It’s not really a surprise being as how Anthony is a miserable fuck. Seriously, what happened to this guy? He used to be fun at least I thought so. He didn’t say more than two words when we started this little excursion back to New York. It’s no wonder I fell asleep.
I sat up straight and looked out the window. Grumpy pulled over at a rest stop and got out of the car.
“Where are we?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I winced as the sun pierced my fully open eyes. Christ, I was going to be fucking blind.
“Need to take a leak.” Anthony mumbled before slamming the door in my face. Nice. I shielded my eyes with one of my hands and opened the door with the other. It felt as if my body had been beaten everything ached.
It was no use trying to catch up to Anthony, who was already inside the rest stop. I don’t know what the fuck his problem is. I stretched my legs out and my arms over my head as I glanced over at a sign. New York, 82 miles away. I groaned and decided to check out the newsstand inside the rest stop praying they had a pair of sunglasses. I made my way inside the newsstand, my stomach growled and I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I ate anything. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a bag of chips. The sunglasses were by the register so I made my way towards the counter and spotted Anthony paying for two cups of coffee. Bless his heart. I grabbed the first pair of sunglasses I saw not giving a shit what they looked like and pulled the tags off pushing them onto the bridge of my nose. The dark lenses acted as a mask as I balked at the wad of money Anthony produced from inside his jean pocket.
Anthony took the Gatorade, chips and the tag from the sunglasses out of my hands and handed them to the cashier. I forced my gaping mouth closed as my rich babysitter paid the girl shoving his wad of money back into his pocket when he was done. He nodded towards the bag the clerk had put my snacks in signaling for me to grab it while he carried the coffees. I was on a five-second delay mesmerized by the cash Anthony was carrying but managed to gather my bearings and follow him out of the rest stop towards the car.
Once we were both in the car I couldn’t help myself, it just kind of spilled from my mouth.