Page 84 of Rhet

Draven throws his head back and laugh “You thought that we would hug? I’m the walking proof that you fucked your wife over.”

The waiter places a cup of black coffee in front of me.

I look up at Draven really taking him in. His tattoos are intricate with geometric shapes and lines. I have to admit I like them. His jaw and nose are like mine, even the way he smiles. If Trent were here, he would have welcomed Draven. He would have been upset, but he wouldn’t hate Draven for our dad’s slip ups.

“Does mom know about Draven?” I ask, as I sip the hot coffee hoping to God that it burns my throat.

My father sighs as he leans forward and rubs his eyebrows “She has known since his birth,”

I nod thinking about how my mom continues to deal with my father’s infidelities.

“I just want you to show him what we do at Banner Shipping,” my father states.

Shifting my focus to my new baby brother, I question him “What were you doing before for work?”

“I sell cocaine near your shipping yard around 56thStreet and Washington,” he replies causally.

“Corruption is really in your DNA Daddy-O” I lift my coffee cup in cheers to my dad.

He grumbles and calls a waiter over asking for a bourbon on ice.

“How much are you making a week?” I put my coffee down.

He squints and folds his arms over his chest “You wanna work with me?”

I chuckle “No, I want to show you how you can make double working with me?”

“Drugs is an easy game bro,” Draven shifts in his chair.

A waiter places my father’s drink in front of him.

“Anything for you sir?” the waiter asks Draven.

“Sure, um scrambled eggs, please scramble them dry,” he states.

The waiter nods “And you sir?”

“I’m good thanks.”

My father gets up with his drink “I will be back in a few minutes.”

We both watch our father leave.

“Does he do that often?” Draven ask.

“What?”

“Leave his mess for someone else to fix,” Draven replies.

I laugh “Yes. Stop being a solider, come let me show you what an emperor lives like.”

“Fuck you. I’m no one’s solider.” Draven says as a waiter places his food in front of him.

“You don’t own the drugs you’re selling. But I own the streets you sell them on.”

Draven tries to ignore me as he digs into his scrambled eggs.

“I never said I wanted to work for you,” he answered.

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