Page 67 of Break You

A deadly silence descended on the room. Nobody spoke a word, or moved a muscle.

Rocky was the first to break the stasis.

“I… What? I mean… is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Which part? The part where I love you? Or the part where my private investigator called me this morning and revealed that, after extensive digging, he’d unearthed the fact that one Julian Michael Alexander Cross III, Esquire—aka Xander Cross, and my fucking father—has pledged to pay for your entire college career, the only caveats being that you maintain the specified GPO and that nobody could ever find out? Both are true.”

“I can’t… I don’t understand.”

That made two of us, and watching Rocky’s reaction, I believed she was as blindsided by the news as I had been earlier. We faced off angrily, each of us determined to stand our ground.

Our stalemate was interrupted by a slow round of applause. We turned to stare at Pixie.

“Well done, Loaded Boy. I see we’re both as ruthless and resourceful in our own ways as our dear father.”

What? “What?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Sorry to be the one to break it to you, little brother.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I didn’t even register that I’d lunged toward him until I felt Rocky pulling on my arm.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re gonna get yourself killed,” she hissed from the corner of her mouth.

Pixie’s henchmen had their guns at the ready—every single one pointed at my head again. If they all fired, they’d turn my skull into a colander.

“It’s true. Kiya, you wanted to know why I haven’t offed him by now, and it’s a fair question. Truth is, I’ve been enjoying this game of cat and mouse, me and brother dearest have had going on all this time—which is the only reason I didn’t bury a bullet in him after I found out he was stealing from me.” What the fuck? This was madness.

“But all good things must come to an end, and now that the cat is out the bag, I really don’t give a fuck what happens to the mouse. So be careful, Loaded Boy. They say blood is thicker than water, but that’s bullshit. Family ain’t about blood. It’s about who you choose, and she’s the only person on my list.”

We at least had that in common.

“Dude, are you insane? Or high? Or both? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

I didn’t give a fuck about his threats. If he was going to kill me, he was going to do it regardless. I wasn’t about to suck his dick to try to change his mind.

“You know I don’t sample the merchandise, Cross. I might not be a tech billionaire or have graduated high school as valedictorian—or at all—but I’m not a moron.” He turned his head from side-to-side working out the kinks in his neck with several loud cricks, before carrying on. “It’s very simple. Our dad knocked up my mom when they were at college, and until a few years back, never gave it a second thought. I’m his dirty little ghetto secret; one he thought was buried, until I lifted the lid again. It’s why I recruited you. I mean, it made business sense—I knew all those rich pricks at St. Joe’s loved to powder their noses and had the money to feed their habits, so it was a total win-win.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” I thought I’d seen Rocky mad before, but that had nothing on how she looked now. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she tore Pixie apart with her bare hands. “How the hell is recruiting your brother to deal for you a win-win? And what in the name of abject stupidity, does any of that have to do with my college fees?”

Pixie steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair, crossing his feet on his desk. He looked like every clichéd don from every cheesy gangster movie ever made. I half expected him to stuff his cheeks with cotton balls and bust out his best Godfather impression. I swallowed down my laughter.

“Patience, Baby Girl, I’ll get to it. See, people like him and our father think they’re better than people like us, looking down on us from their golden castles, with their inherited billions. But one thing you learn in this business, is people are people. Everyone bleeds the same red blood. Everyone screws up, and everyone can end up an addict. Only difference is that some people get lucky at birth and can pay their way out of their mistakes, and we get our shitty existence. He—” He pointed my way, looking at me as though I was something the dog puked up, “—got the money, the maids, and the minders, and I got running on corners to survive. I hired him because I wanted to show we weren’t so different after all. The only difference is where we were born.”

“That makes no fucking sense.” She was right, it really didn’t.

“It makes all the sense. He stole my life. He got the dad, and all the shit that goes with it. That should have been me. Should have been mine. If I couldn’t have what he had, I wanted to infect his perfect existence with the reality of mine.”

This time it was my turn to do the slow, sarcastic round of applause.

“Congratulations. You take out the bat-shit-crazy award for stupid ideas. All of this Cain and Abel BS would have been great, if it wasn’t for one teeny-tiny little fact. And that fact is that I hate my father.”

“Our father,” he growled like a bear.

“Whatever. You know what? You’re fucking welcome to him. Let’s call him your father. I hate him. Want to know why I took up the offer of dealing for you in the first place? Why I worked so hard at it? Why I was skimming all those years? It was to get as far away from that asshole as I possibly could and never look back. I managed it just after you caved my face in. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. As far as I’m concerned, that man is dead to me.”

I could see Pixie trying to assimilate this new information.

“What? Did you think we were sitting around in a gilded palace, playing happy families and counting our billions? If so, you couldn’t be more off track. Whatever you’re thinking is wrong and let me tell you, the best thing your father could have done for you was leave you the fuck alone. You might not see it, but he gave you the best gift he could have given you—being absent from your life.”

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