Page 104 of Proof

All by myself.

My fury was like a living thing beneath my skin and under any other circumstances, I would have needed to move around or take my aggression out on something or someone. God, how had I ever thought I’d be able to do this? I’d been so certain that I could maintain some level of professionalism, but I couldn’t. I was the fucker’s bitter son first, the disciplined Marine second.

“How did you know we were coming?” JJ asked.

My father put out his hands again. “A father just knows these things.”

“You fucking piece of shit—” I began. I still had the gun aimed at my father, but I was keeping my hand off the trigger in case JJ pulled the same trick.

“Awww, son, how about you start calling me Pops?” my father suggested. “Or Dad, maybe Daddy… no, that one won’t work ’cause this one”—he pointed at JJ—“probably calls youthat.” My father acted lost in thought for so long that I almost thought he’d passed out. “I know, how about SaDa?”

“He’s hammered,” Sully muttered. “We’re not gonna get shit out of him until he sobers up.”

“Nope, yep, maybe,” my father responded. His eyes were on me as he spoke, and I couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation wash over me.

“SaDa? What the fuck does that even mean?” Sully asked. It was a rhetorical question but the second he said the strange word again, my father’s eyes shifted to the right just a little. He did it again a second later. Something about his eyes was off. He was acting drunk or high or a little bit of both, but his eyes…

“Sully’s right, Cass,” JJ said. I watched in astonishment as he lowered his gun and then turned his back on my father.

He fucking turned his back… and he remained between me and my father, giving the asshole an opportunity to shoot him in the back. We hadn’t checked him or the desk for weapons. What if?—

“This is a waste of time,” JJ said to me as he took a few steps forward. His eyes pinned mine. I recognized the look for what it was. He knew something. JJ had caught something I had yet to process. I gave him the tiniest of nods to indicate I understood not to pull the trigger the second he moved out of the way. I watched in surprise as he went to the bar that was stacked with an endless array of liquor bottles.

It was the same direction my father had shifted his eyes in.

JJ stuck his gun in the waistband of his jeans and studied the various bottles. “Not one fucking cheap bottle of whiskey,” he said in irritation. “Nothing but the best for dear old dad, huh, Cass? Probably been drinking this shit from the second you were born.” He glanced over his shoulder at my father. “And by the way, it’s the other way around, he calls me Daddy,” he commented as he jerked his head in my direction. “What are youdrinking?” he finally asked as he began shifting the bottles of alcohol around.

“My best buddy, Johnnie Walker,” my father announced, his words slurring heavily. He lifted his glass again, as if toasting someone. “That whiskey cost more than your house, sonny.”

As JJ pretended to examine the bottle, I began running the strange conversation back and forth in my head.

“It’s not whiskey, is it, big brother?” JJ asked.

“Scotch,” Sully said gruffly.

“Come here, babe,” JJ said as he held out the bottle. I kept my gun trained on my father although I had no intention of pulling the trigger. My father’s eyes held a certain desperation to them while his arms continued to bob around as if disconnected from his body.

When I reached JJ’s side, he pretended to show me the bottle before saying, “Guy’s probably got a million bucks’ worth of shit to get his drink on.” JJ began moving bottles on each shelf. He rattled the names off some of the bottles in disgust. “A million bucks right here when he could grab himself a great fucking glass of scotch like Pops did for five bucks at O’Shauney’s.”

“Never said the fucker knew how to spend all that cash, just said he did,” I responded as I watched JJ return the bottle to a different spot than it had originally been in. He made a show of moving the bottles around like he was trying to make the one in his hand fit. That was when I saw it.

A camera.

A very small, very well-hidden camera.

The sight of it had everything coming together in my head. Certain words began to stand out.

SaDa.

Buddy.

Big brother.

O’Shauney’s.

“Gimme a refill,” my father said as he waved his glass around.

“I’m done with this shit,” I sniped as I put my gun away. “Let the fucking cops have him,” I added as I began to walk past his desk.

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