Page 232 of Bona Fide

“We can make this work.” I ball my hands into fist to keep from breaking down in front of him. My blubbering won’t help the matter. “We belong together.”

“I love you, too. More than you will ever know, Sox.” Swiveling on his heel, he leaves me in Emmy’s office alone in the stillness of the room and not with very many options.

I either leave with my pride or try to push on.

I hate both options.

* * *

My keys fallwith a clatter to the table next to my door with just as much defeat as I feel. I came back home because I wasn't going to repeat the same fight with Wade over and over again. Plus, I've been away from my business too long. I know Sadie is itching to go back home, and I needed to be in a place where I felt somewhat comfortable.

Me: I'm home.

I roll my eyes as soon as I hit the send button to my brother. Not only was tonight a complete disaster but the Hulk was at Andy’s birthday party—to look over me.

Imagine how well that went.

The whole night is a liquor-filled blur. I shoved guys away from me whose faces I don't remember before the Hulk could Hulk-smash them or whatever it is he does. He seems to like the lighter I saw him with at Camp David, he spent the whole night sipping on beer and flicking it open and closed.

My brother needs new friends.

And speaking of needs, Marty and I need to have a major sit-down to talk about everything with my father. As promised, he gave me the USB full of classified files and multiple emails between a general in the Air Force and my father discussing plans about bombing a small town that they called Salem.

After hours of sifting through communication, I found an email addressed to my dad with the message: Burned at the stake.

News article clippings, screenshots of headline news on CNN and MSNBC spoke about a little town in a small country called Tolnova being devastated by an alleged US air attack with only a dozen or so survivors. Another week and a half of articles looking for answers to the US government’s involvement and then everything abruptly stops.

People forgot about it.

Marty was an orphan. He has one picture of his family on the drive—his real parents, himself, and two younger-looking sisters.

It’s when I didn’t need to look anymore.

The moment that I knew where all this anger and need to release it stemmed from. His whole life was taken in one night. His entire world changed because my father wanted to prod into Russia’s good graces. Tolnova wanted independence from the Russians coming in to collect their abundant supply of oil, natural gas, timber, and valuable minerals.

And Marty’s father, he spoke against it.

He was labeled a terrorist—how people bought into that, I don’t know. Apparently, my father wanted to become best friends with Russia and, in good faith, bombed a town that had a big mouth who spoke against it.

My father might be dead, always was in my head anyway, but in light of the evidence against him—he deserved it. He murdered innocent people. He bombed a small town and split families.

They say when you kill by the knife, you fall on it—Marty took the quicker approach and shot him. And called it completely fucked up, but I’d never be able to hold this over my brother’s head.

He’s my brother and, in my brain, nothing has changed between us. Except the fact that this whole torture-kill thing needs to be dealt with. I don’t know all the logistics behind B723, but Marty needs to get out.

I need him. Mama has been praying for him to come home, and he owes me.

Dead dad and all that shit.

On the way home from my party, the Hulk fed me McDonald's to sober me up then made a point to tell me that he’ll be sleeping in Marty’s room.

I always wanted a chaperone in my late twenties.

He also made a declaration to stop calling him Hulk, that his name is Bishop, and, well—fat chance that’s ever going to happen.

Marty: I know. I'd yell at you for drinking so much but you'll probably feel it in the morning.

Me: And I'd yell at you for having someone stalk me but, alas, won't do us any good.

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