Hate You, Love You. - Chapter 109

Jason

The keys to the contemporary-styled mansion jiggle as I place the master key into the key hole. Today was a rush. I never knew how much I missed being on the streets till I beat Gerald’s ass again. I won the match fair and square this time and he didn’t scratch my Veyron nor did he try to swerve me off the road. It was a sweet victory in the dead of night and the look on his face was something I’d pay a million dollars to see. He was a solid five minutes behind me so it took him forever to get to the Jaguar.

Even after eight months, I still got it.

The highlight of my day was seeing her face once I won. It was something I could get used to seeing everyday. Her eyes lit up like the fucking moon as she ran to hug me, ignoring  Pearson’s comments to hold on. I loved it. Her scent. Her smile. Her laugh. Her everything is so perfect and I can’t believe she’s mine. I dropped her off by 10:30pm on the dot, acknowledging her mother’s trust in me and headed to the base to fill out a few paperwork. A new delivery of revolvers are coming in from Italy and they have to be distributed to the appropriate mafias.

The fluorescent lights are still on as I proceed inside. Placing my keys on the nearby table, I head towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I’m tired. It’s 12:00am right now and I need sleep if I’m going to be able to function properly tomorrow. Speaking of school, I still have homework that I haven’t done.

It’s funny how these teachers still give us homework when the SAT’s are two months away. Though I’m not as smart as Mel, I still read and try my best to do homework. Coach Blake doesn’t play when it comes to being serious in academics. If your grade drops, he drops you and you can say goodbye to your budding basketball career. I’m the captain and the district’s Basketball State Champion, I can’t for the life of me not take schoolwork seriously.

”You’re home late.” I see my sister coming down from the spiral stairs in her night robe.

”Are they home?”

She shakes her head. ”No, they’re not. They left when you were out.”

I nod once. ”Oh.” Our parents not being home is nothing novel to me. When one is a well-known lawyer and the other owns a popular cosmetics brand, it becomes really hard to balance work life and personal life. Before, I used to resent them, especially my mum, because she wasn’t always an absent parent.

Growing up, it was always just the two of us. Even when we lived in motels and run down trailers, she still made the time to be there for me. When she married Dean, my step-father, things changed. He gave her the capital to start her brand, invested in the company and it is what it is today. I guess she just needed that extra push to realize her dreams and she got that.

I would admit though, part of the reasons why I formed a gang was because I wanted to be rebellious. I wanted to do the exact opposite of what they’d expect me to do. I was an angry teenager with a lot of issues: I lost my parents to their careers, I lost my baby to Mariah’s decision and I lost myself due to everything happening in my life. I slacked off a bit in school and stopped attending basketball practice till coach threatened to cut my dick off with a knife if I didn’t get my shit together.

Needless to say, I was a mess and mum saw it too but it was too late for her to start playing parent.

Now, I’ve made peace with the situation. I’m eighteen going on nineteen and I don’t need their attention or love. We live in the same house, but they’re clueless as to what my sister and I do. That’s our dynamic and I’m okay with that.

”Where did you go?” She questions as she joins me in the kitchen. She grabs the bottle of OJ and pours it in a glass. ”It’s not like you to stay out of late.”

”How would you know that? You left abruptly without as much as a phone call.”

The glass stills in her hand and she turns to me. ”How long are you going to hang that over my head? I told you I was sorry.”

Before Patricia left for Paris, we were really close. She never treated me like a step-sibling but instead regarded me as her blood brother. She’d always tell people we were real siblings even though we looked nothing alike.

She’s a product of Dean’s first marriage. His ex-wife died in a car crash years before my mum and I entered their lives.

Patricia took care of me when our parents didn’t. She became a surrogate parent: she took me to school sometimes, she’d cook dinner and helped me do homework even though dad hired the best tutors for us. Heaven knows I didn’t understand shit that those stuffy old teachers who only cared about their pockets were talking about, but Patricia did and she took the time to simplify things for me. I was a slow learner so it took a lot of time for me to assimilate.

”Sometimes sorry isn’t good enough.”

She sighs and her lips form into a thin line. She says nothing and I know she feels guilty. ”I’m sorry.”

”Why did you leave for Paris, anyway?” She has been home for months now and we haven’t so much as discussed why she suddenly packed a bag and took the first flight to another city. She never gave me a concrete answer, always danced around the question and gave me bits and clues that I couldn’t quite piece together.

”Bob and I broke up.”

”Bullshit.”

Never a concrete answer.

”It’s not.” Her stance is defiant as she meets my eyes. ”We really did break-up.”

That’s not why I called bullshit.

”That much is obvious,” I respond with a roll of my eyes. ”What I don’t understand is why you broke up.” When Bob came over for family dinner a month before she told me they hit splitsville, they seemed happy.

”That’s none of your business.”

”It is.” I open the cookie jar cupboard and grab a jar of almond and oatmeal cookies. ”You owe me that much since you abandoned me.”

Playing the guilt card.

She sighs and motions for us to sit on the sofas overlooking the fire.  Our family  portrait is poised on the wooden headboard and I sigh internally. I was fourteen when that picture was taken and Patricia was seventeen. We were all smiles and it reminds me of the past when we weren’t so…distant.

“You coming?”

I nod  with the cookie jar in my hand. We settle down and she stares at the burning embers.

”I cheated on him.”

That, I didn’t expect.

They only dated for two years I believe and they always looked so in love. He is a Siddeno, yes, and I did try to warn her that she should stay away from him but the heart wants what it wants. I would know that all too well.

I feared my sister would get mixed up in shit once she started dating a Siddeno, especially one who was as high in rank as Vladmir was. He was an underboss at the time and I didn’t want us to mix business with pleasure. However, I decided to keep my mouth shut. She wouldn’t have listened to me.

”Why?” I know my sister, she never does anything without a reason. Although there’s no justification for cheating and I’m the last person to call saint, I believe that everything has to be done for a reason.

”Because he became the head once his father stepped down. He didn’t have time for me anymore and I felt that his responsibilities to the mafia were more important than our relationship,” she chuckles sardonically. ”He relegated us to the background once he became the ‘big man’ and I was left in the mud. You know how the Siddeno’s are, they are suspicious of people who aren’t of their circle so they never really accepted me into their family. He never even defended me, defended us, in front of them and allowed them to disrespect me and treat me like crap.”

She continues. ”He promised to do better, but he never did. It was always promises but they were all empty. Push came to shove and I ended up sleeping with Diego Acosta.”

”What the fuck?” I whisper yell. ”Are you crazy?”

Diego Acosta is a known hitman for the Floretini’s. Tall. Muscular. Looked like he could pummel you with a single glare. I’ve only met him once and that was when Janet and I had to do a delivery.

”You could have gotten yourself killed!” You don’t date the head of a well known mafia and screw another member of the opposing one. Everyone knows about the rivalry between the two biggest mafias in the US.

How the fuck is she alive?

”Don’t you think I l know that?” she answers calmly. ”Quite frankly, the only reason I’m still alive is because Bob decided to take pity on me.”

”What do you mean?”

She chokes a sob. ”He killed Diego.” Shit. ”I loved him and he fucking killed him in front of me in Paris on my twenty-first birthday.”

”I’m sorry.”

”It’s my fault,” her eyes are filled with regret. ”I should have known that Bob was a brute and should have ran away as soon as I had the chance.”

She plays with the belt of her robe and I ponder over her confession. I know that Bob is violent, it’s the mafia world for fucks sake, it’s either you hunt or be hunted. Would I say my sister deserved to have her lover killed in front of her? Not really. Patricia hasn’t been known to make the wisest of decisions and this is just on the list of her many screw-ups. Well this and cheating.

Like I said, Patricia doesn’t do anything without a reason and now that I see why, I can sympathize.

”After that, I came back home and moved to Paris. I needed a fresh start and a new perspective on life.”

”You knew that you would get caught.” I look her dead in the eye. ”Why’d you do it?”

”Love.”

Love?

”You may not understand this but love makes you do stupid things. We had a connection so deep and it was something I hadn’t experienced with anyone before. In a short amount of time I fell in love with Diego because he understood me.” She wipes the stray tears from her eyes with her sleeves. ”He was there for me when Bob wasn’t and he treated me with such care. He was patient, he listened to me and he always had my back. Our relationship was a taboo but we didn’t care.”

Not caring got him killed.

”Looking back, I wish I had ended it before shit hit the fan. We met at Salem, the club, and it was initially about the sex, but it became much deeper than that.”

”He didn’t deserve to die.” I don’t know what I would have done in Bob’s position because my sister is not a victim. She may play the victim card now but we both know that none of this would have happened if she was faithful. Bob didn’t put a gun to her head and tell her that she couldn’t leave (It’s not evident in her tale that he threatened her). She had the power to do so but she stayed and I’m guessing it’s because she loved the pride and respect of being called the ‘Don’s woman.’

”That’s all in the past now. He killed him and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

I take a bite of my almond cookie and hand the jar to her. ”No bad deed ever goes unpunished and even those who feel that they are unconquerable should beware that they do not fall.”

”What do you mean?”

She shrugs and hands me the cookie jar back. ”That was a quote.”

”Did you have something to do with Bob’s disappearance?”

If anyone has a motive, it’s my sister. The man is still missing and with each passing day, I believe he’s dead. The rest of Bridgewood seems to have forgotten about it because it’s not publicized in the news anymore. Life has seemingly gone back to normal.

”I resent the man but I do not repay evil with evil.”

That’s a lie. Patricia has a knack for getting revenge against anyone who crossed her. Even though we’re not related by blood, you could say I inherited her love for pulling pranks.

There was a time a girl called her a bitch in high school and she repaid her in kind by vandalizing her locker with the word BITCH and placing a stink bomb in it. I would know this because one drunken night, when we were invading Dean’s wine cellar, she told me in a fit of giggles.

Bourbourn does that you.

“He disappeared because of karma. It’s a bitch and it bites back hard.”

Somehow, I don’t believe that.

”Maybe you’re right.”

It may or may not be a coincidence that he disappeared a month after she reappeared in Bridgewood.

”Goodnight, brother. You have school in the morning.” In a tone of finality, she walks up the stairs and I follow her with my eyes.

Patricia, I’m on to you.