Page 108 of The Kiss Of Death
“Your mother was an incredible woman and an exemplary housewife who always supported your father. She was a rock who prioritized her family’s needs above her own,” he said. “You look just like her. Every man would be lucky to have someone like her in his life.”
He knew my mother.He knew how I lost her, but it was the first time he’d mentioned her directly to me. I sensed a compliment behind his words, but everyone kept telling me how perfect Mom was and that I could never live up to those expectations. What if Mom was more than the perfect housewife?I’ll never know.I’ll never know if she failed like me. I’ll never know if she ever had her heart broken, or what she truly wanted in life.
“A woman is not just an addition to a man’s life.” I forced another smile, but this time, my lips trembled slightly.
“You’re right,” he replied with a sly, shark-like grin. “You’re saints.”
We weren’t saints, just humans—neither whores nor madonnas. Just human.
“Mr. Archambault, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kay’s voice cut through, and Sylas and I flinched in our seats. He was here, extending his hand for a shake with Sylas’s father.Oh my—“Your son has a great talent for politics, just like you. He’s bringing a modern vision to today’s society.”
“Kay, I’m with my father. We can—”
“Modern?” His father frowned, rising from his seat and shaking Kay’s hand doubtfully.
“Yes, positioning himself in favor of those we haven’t heard. The LGBTQ+, trans, and basically the complete opposite of your stuck-up political ideologies.”
“Oh my god, is that a mouse!” I shrieked in a lame attempt to switch the subject, but my alarmed voice went unnoticed.
“This is your son here, isn’t it?” Kay displayed a picture on his phone, showcasing Sylas at a street demonstration, holding the gay pride flag in one hand and a beer in the other. “So supportive of our cause.”
“Get away from us,” Sylas’s father rebuffed Kay sharply. “You’re a virus for my son.”
“Kay, don’t—” Sylas attempted to reason with him, but his efforts faltered.
Was Kay drunk? His breath reeked of alcohol. Cillian and Levi hurried into the café, each seizing one of Kay’s shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension.
Kay laughed, nudging them away. “A virus, he swallowed whole, sir, and—”
“Sylas, come with me, now!”
My heart pounded in my ears. I was mute, unable to move or do anything to prevent what was going to happen.
“Yes, Sylas, obey your daddy like an obedient dog. I know you like that position.” Kay smirked.
“You little—”
“You’re being watched,” Levi interjected, his tone ominously calm as he positioned himself between the two of them. “Sir, you wouldn’t want to get violent. The press wouldn’t take kindly to the minister of defense displaying aggression toward the gay community, especially when Kay’s father is one of the wealthiestindividuals in our country.” Levi turned to his friend, gritting his teeth. “Kay, I told you to stay the fuck out.”
“You know what? Fuck you all! Especially you—” Kay pointed at Sylas, his face breaking up. “I’m done fighting for you and trying to understand the weird dynamic you and your father have! He can’t love you for who you are, but I could! Yet it’s still not enough for you! I’m done waiting for you, fuck you!”
As Kay stormed away, he knocked over the coffees the server was bringing to us. In his wake, Cillian hurriedly trailed him. Sylas stood on the verge of an emotional collapse, tears welling up in his eyes, his fingers trembling. I seized his hand, and he squeezed it tighter.
“Well, I see nothing has changed,” his father said, trying to maintain an outward calm that betrayed the underlying menace—just like my father before firing someone. “I thought you were with Dalia; you lied to me. Both of you.”
“It’s not her fault, Dad. She didn’t know. I lied to her. I—” Sylas’s voice faltered, breaking as he attempted to shield me from the storm.
“Let’s discuss this nonsense in the car.”
“Dad, look at me, please,” Sylas pleaded.
His father finally met his gaze, his jaw clenched, his head held high.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something, and I think you know…”
“Stop,” his father warned, averting his eyes.
“Look at me, Dad.”
