Page 56 of Cunning Lies
“There wasn’t a scratch on you,” I say. “So what happened? Whose blood was that?”
“Why are you so concerned?”
“I’m curious.”
“Does that mean you actually like me?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He carries on in silence for a few minutes and I’m almost about to take the teasing remark back. The truth is that I do…likehim, even if it’s wrong. It may be the fact that I’ve never spent this much time with a guy that wasn’t Uncle Jay or Patrick, or it may be because Kenzo makes me feel wanted. Needed. Evensafe.
“I was taking care of business,” he says.
My gut twists. He did something that he doesn’t want to tell me, and since he refuses to lie, he’s avoiding the question.
“Kenzo,” I say sternly. “Tell me.”
His jaw is set. “Patrick won’t bother you again.”
Every blood vessel inside of me constricts, pain pulsing through my skull. Patrick won’t bother me? That means—
“You killed him?” I gasp. “Why? How could you?”
Kenzo waves a hand, dismissing my question. “Everyone dies. What does it matter if I cut his life short?”
My mind spins as I stare down at my bowl. Uncle Jay is going to be crushed. What am I going to do? What am I going to tell him?
This is my fault.I shouldn’t have said anything about what happened. It was in the past. I had said Patrick could do it. Everything was fine.
And I screwed it all up.
“Don’t cry over him. Fuck,” Kenzo says, irritation and confusion swimming in his posture. He leans back in his chair, studying me, but I won’t let my eyes leave the soup. The miso paste settles at the bottom of the bowl. Bile rises in my throat.
“Why are you upset?” he asks. “He raped you, Vi. He didn’t deserve to live.”
I can’t change the past and make it so that I never told Kenzo our family secrets. And I can’t bring Patrick back from the dead, no matter how hard I try.
But I can save Uncle Jay.
“You can’t kill Uncle Jay,” I say. I don’t know why I say it—Kenzo doesn’t have any reason to kill Uncle Jay, but Ihaveto say it. Uncle Jay is the last family member I have. Myonlyfamily. Without him, I’m alone, and I can’t accept that. “Promise me you won’t kill Uncle Jay.”
“I don’t make promises,” Kenzo says flatly.
I reach across the table, grabbing his hand. “Please.”
He sets his spoon down beside his bowl, then his eyes challenge my racing thoughts.
“Has Jay ever touched you?” he asks.
“What?” I ask. “No!”
“If you tell me that he’s never touched you, then I’ll see what I can do.” He rubs his forehead. “Damn it, Vi. If it makes you happy, I’ll even promise. Butonlyif he’s never laid a hand on you.”
I let my memories flash across my mind. The drunken nights. The lessons. The fake situations. The ‘friends’ I was introduced to. We’re a screwed up family, and there are some nights that I don’t remember at all. But in those flashes of clarity, Uncle Jay never touched me.
“I promise,” I say.
Without another word, Kenzo picks up his spoon and devours the rest of his bowl. If last night was any indication of Kenzo’s extreme side, then maybe this calmer side, this relaxed side, is more like him.
