Page 61 of The Queen's Denial

“Just tell me who you think poses a threat.” He shoots me a side-long glance and gives me a shit-eating smirk. “And if you’ve been doing anything but watching her every day, maybe you could give me updates on the Russians, the congressmen, and the dirty law enforcement you're supposed to be scoping out. Now is the time to sway the dirty ones, Andy.” He turns his face to me full-on now. “You should know that, my friend.”

I lean back on the couch miserably. The fact is, he’s right. I’ve been seriously slacking in my work, as I was worried about, and I realize that even more now talking to him. While I sit as a sentry outside of Chi’s house, I’m supposed to also be looking out for possible leads in government and law enforcement that we can turn and use for our own purposes, but instead, I’m focused almost entirely on intelligence. And not even intelligence for all of the families we work for. Mainly just Chi’s.

I know the cartel in New York is having a problem with uprisings — a civil war of sorts — and we heavily favor keeping the current leader in power, but I have barely even touched that, instead delegating it to Gus. I told myself at the time that Gus is older, and since the bullet to his stomach really did a number on him, it would be good for him to take over operations in a place where immediate action would likely be unnecessary. But the truth is, immediate action likely won’t be necessary anywhere right now. Right now is the calm period, where everyone is regrouping and gearing up, studying others and their own standing in this mafia world we work within.

The fact is, truly, that I am blowing my time as leader, and Cas is simply making that clear. I need to do better. I need to stop being so fucking preoccupied.

I give him a rundown of the general details I know from the lieutenants I’ve delegated work to, and he nods as he studies his arms distractedly. He’s not here for himself. He’s here to give me a lesson to get my shit together if I want to keep running this thing. If I don’t want him stepping back in and giving up on nurturing the budding life he’s started with his girl and his daughter.

“I also met with Fink and Castro,” I begin in a monotone, talking about the two congressmen I’m working at the moment. “We have good blackmail, and they’re obviously freaked out. Fink has a few more days to decide, and Castro has a week. They’ll agree, but they’ll run out all their time trying to think of how they can get back at us. Once they go up the chain and realize there’s nothing they can do, they’ll agree.”

Cas puts his t-shirt back on and slaps my shoulder. “Good. Get them on board, and start working the rest of the guys on the list, too. We can recruit at least a dozen, and I know you’re the best of the two of us to do it.”

Cas rarely gives me encouragement. “I must look like shit,” I say, wincing at the despair in my own voice.

“Yup. Total and utter shit.” Cas’s face doesn’t change, but he seems to be considering his next words carefully. Finally, he spits them out. “If you don’t like this, then do something about it, man. No one else will.”

I know exactly what he’s talking about. He’s talking about Chi. He’s talking about wrangling her and her father into my scenario of what I want to happen with her. But what the fuck is that, even? She wants to do what her father is asking of her. She wants to be the Yakuza queen. Anything I said would just be heart wrenching for both of us. This is what Cas doesn’t understand about my situation: it is not the same as his situation was with Mara. Mara didn’t know what she wanted, so he was able to sway her decisions. And it was hard for him to do even that.

“Chi knows exactly what she wants. And it’s not to stay here with me and live in my safehouse, playing wifey and having two little kids and a dog.”

Cas narrows his eyes for a moment, considering my response, but then shrugs. “Then change her mind, or your own.”

I look at him incredulously. “You know shit doesn’t work like that, asshole. Even you must realize things aren’t so fucking simple.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. You want her, then take her. You don’t, then just move on.”

I know he’s oversimplifying shit because he truly believes he did this when he isn’t second-guessing himself. And since he almost never second-guesses himself, he believes it most of the time. He broke through Mara’s defenses, muscled through her indecision, and made her choose what he wanted. He seems to conveniently forget all the hardships they faced, in part because of her stubbornness, but also because of his own.

I shake my head. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite, man.”

Cas’s smile simply widens. “God, you’re so cranky today. Remind me never to leave you to run off to Japan with some half-witted daddy’s boy.”

I give him one last killer stink-eye. “I think it’s time for you to get the fuck out of here, boss.”

*****

The day before the wedding, we go out and drink. As usual, Cas doesn’t even feel the alcohol. Usually I don’t drink much, but I decide to fuck it all and get wasted. I remember pushing the stripper’s tits out of my face like an asshole, which I now deeply regret after I remember the lame jokes made at my expense the next morning. I don’t remember much else, including how we got back to the little farm that Mara chose for the wedding venue. Cas preferred a place in the middle of nowhere and Mara fell in love with the simple charm of this place in particular.

Cas wakes me up by locking his arm around the back of my neck and pulling me off the bed while I’m still half asleep.

“I made you a fucking Bloody Mary, you little bitch,” Cas says with a snicker. “It’s the only cocktail you can drink without the guys making fun of your sexual orientation again, and honestly, you could use the tomato juice. You look like shit lately, and even worse this morning, for obvious reasons.”

“Ughh, fuck,” I say, sipping the drink Cas puts in my hand. “How did I forget about fucking hangovers? I never used to feel like this when I’d drink, man.”

“Yeah, well we’re in our 30’s now. Get used to it.” Cas lays out our tuxes and starts shaving.

“What are we, the fucking odd couple? You have the presidential suite. Go to your own room and get ready.”

Cas’s eyes glitter with mischief. He stops for a moment and looks at me in the mirror. “And leave you here to nurse your hangover all alone? That wouldn’t be half as fun.”

I roll my eyes. “I’d get over it.”

“I’m talking about for me. I’m enjoying watching your miserable ass.”

I seethe at him while I wash down the Advil he’s left for me on the bedside table, but I’m not really mad. I don’t really believe that he’s in here to watch me suffer. I lie on the bed and give him the show he says he wants to see as I throw my arm over my face and press on the sinuses above my nose with my other hand to ease my headache.

Somehow, I’m shaven, dressed, and otherwise presentable in the next hour, and before I know it, Cas and I are standing at the altar waiting. I know what I’m about to see, though, and I wish I were still drunk enough to deal with it.

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