Page 196 of Rhet

A tear slides down my dad’s face. “He wasn’t supposed to die. I just wanted him to be roughed up. I wanted him to be tougher”

I feel like shooting my father right in the back of his head.

“Tougher? Why?” I murmur

“Because he didn’t want him to be like him and Carson. Rhet is not like you Trent was,” my mom says, and tears run down her face.

“You know about Carson?” I ask in shock.

My mom wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes focus on my dad “I know everything.”

My dad just stands there looking lost, while my mother fumes. Silence permeates the room. “My brother was perfect in every way. Sorry you couldn’t see that,” I said

My father deserves to die. But not at my hands. I walk back to my seat and take up the black case on the table.

“Carson died hating you.” I state.

He deflates, his shoulder drop. He looks so lost.

“You keep destroying lives, mom’s, Trent’s, mine, Carson’s,” I state as I walk to mom. I bend near her ear and whisper.

“If you want dad gone. Use this under his tongue,” I get up walk to the door,

As I’m about to leave I stop, “Zeeta is pregnant.”

My mom gasps and claps “Oh that’s wonderful news”

I stop and turn around waiting for him to say something.

“I told you not to get the whore pregnant,” my father’s face twists with hate.

I take a long look at him, try to commit to memory every aspect of his face.

“There is nothing redeemable about you is there?” I reply as I close the door behind me. Walking briskly out of the house I stop at the top of the stairs and exhale. Reaching into my pockets, I take out a cigar and my cutter. After lighting my cigar, I take a puff letting the smoke settle around me. I head to my car, and slide in. As I turn the radio on the smooth voice of Frank Sinatra engulfs my car. Yes, Frank I did it my way too.

RHET

It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Zeeta. Draven is constantly at her side. Every day he gives me a report on her progress. If she needs anything he has a card, he can get it for her.

I want to go and fix things but part of me is still angry at her.

Taking the blueprints of the new Waterfront I spread it across my table.

Someone knocks at my door, “Come in I shout.” My mom struts in wearing a cream cashmere sweater, a pair of dark blue jeans and a pair of red bottoms.

I approach her and give her a kiss and a hug.

“Don’t you “Hi mom me. I brought you some dinner. You’re not answering your phone, you’re not returning any messages.”

I avoid her stare “I have been busy Ma.”

“Busy doing what?” she throws the brown bag on my table and sits in the chair in front of my desk.

“I want the Waterfront project to come off the ground. That’s why I’m so busy.” I say as I return behind my desk.

You’re not busy you are using this as a distraction,” she picks up my letter open in the shape of a sword “Is this new I like this.”

“Distraction from what?” I roll up the blueprints on my desk and make my way to my mini bar.

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