Page 83 of Cunning Lies
“What if they killed me? Would you do anything about it? Would you find out who did it? Would you—”
“Vivy,” he says, cutting me off and using a nickname I haven’t heard in a long, long time. My neck and shoulders tighten. I swallow my anxiety. “You should understand the nature of our work by now. This is business.”
Business as usual, babe,Kenzo had said.If we’re done, I’ve got business to take care of.
It’s just work to them. Death means nothing. Businessalwaysprevails.
Uncle Jay pats my shoulder. “We’ve been lucky so far, but when we took this job, we knew the risks.”
I told Uncle Jay and Patrick the risks. I told them I didn’t want anything to do with the yakuza, but they told me it was worth it. That we would get that dream house on the beach. That we could retire. That we’d never have to worry again. That we’d finally have the stability, the freedom, the protection I always wanted, if I just gave them a chance.
Maybe that was a lie to get me to play along.
“Did the client specifically say that we might die?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Come on, Vi,” Uncle Jay says. “When you mess with an organized crime group like the yakuza, things are going to get messy. Everyone knows that.”
Minutes pass, and I gawk at him. Uncle Jay fidgets, uncomfortable in the silence. The scarred nub of his pinky taps his legs; the truth of our situation is always simmering under the surface, no matter how well Uncle Jay plays it cool. Outside, Kenzo is on a phone call with someone, and his skin is gleaming with sweat. If I wasn’t so anxious, I’d be salivating. He looks like a god capable of destroying the world.
And soon, he’s going to destroy us.
“What if it were me?” I ask, the tears breaking loose. “Would you even care?”
“Patrick would do the same thing in our shoes,” Uncle Jay says, his nostrils flaring. The concern and sweetness is gone, replaced by malice. “You can’t let hypothetical situations hold you back. I thought I taught you that a long time ago.”
When my biological parents died, I often cried myself to sleep, saying it was my fault. I was the one who liked candles. I was the one who risked their lives to go on that dumb candle shopping trip. But Uncle Jay would stroke my hair and shush me.It’s okay to be sad, sweetheart, but you can’t do anything about it anymore. No amount of tears will bring them back. You’ve got to move on. Besides, we’re your family now.
“Patrick is dead,” I say. It’s hard to breathe, but I force myself to stay strong. Patrick may have raped me when we were growing up, but I’m still responsible for his death.
No. No. No,I yell at myself.Patrick raped me. Kenzo killed him for that. It’s not my fault.
But the tears don’t stop. I may not be responsible for Patrick’s death, but I am completely responsible for whatever comes next.
“I’ve gotta go,” Uncle Jay mutters. He fixes his shirt and stands up. “If I had known that you wanted to grill me about Patrick, then I wouldn’t have come.” He angles toward the door. “Bottom line—Patrick is dead and we’re alive. If we don’t make this job work, then his death meansnothing.And I refuse to let that happen.”
His eyes are cold. There’s nothing about him that I recognize at that moment. The man who protected me growing up, who saved me from my messed up situation, sees me like an obstacle right now.
“They can kill us,” I say. “Both of us.”
“I know.”
“We’re too deep.”
“I’m not quitting.”
I’ll never win.
“If we have to finish the job, then we have to do it quickly,” I say. “I can’t keep pretending to be some mafia wife anymore.”
“Once we get the info about GHF, we can leave this place behind,” Uncle Jay says. “So get to work.”
He tries to open the front door, but it’s locked. He sighs. “For fuck’s sake. He’s locking me in here too?”
I swallow down bile, then knock on the balcony door, hoping that my worst fear isn’t about to unfold.
Kenzo unlocks the front door, letting Uncle Jay out without a word. A tingling sensation rolls through me, my eyes widening. Kenzo knows we’re working together. If he’s willing to let Uncle Jay go free, then that means that there’s hope.
But once Uncle Jay leaves, Kenzo returns to the balcony. He calls someone else, keeping his eyes on the parking lot. He must be watching Uncle Jay walk to his car. Maybe he’s sending him into another trap.
