Page 18 of Tears and Other Fears

“Answer me, Samuel,” his father demanded once more. For my sake, I hoped we didn’t grow up to be like our parents. The idea of being like my mother made me sick. But I could see the blatant similarities now. Mr. Smith looked like a busted cage of evil. His demons were oozing through the iron bars of his weathered appearance.

“Dad, I can explain.”

“I think it’s best I do, hmm? It’s me that is coming to collect a debt, after all,” Renon interrupted with a sinister smile. The drug dealer thrust his hand out for Mr. Smith to shake, but the haggard father didn’t accept the polite gesture. Mr. Smith simply looked Renon up and down like he was a disease he wanted the vaccine to. Oh well, it was all an act anyway.

“Why was I called up here when we’re having a graduation party downstairs? For fuck’s sake, Samuel, Pastor Anthony is asking where you are. I invited alumni of the school and future partners. You can’t even survive one party without disappointing me.”

Here we were, in a crowded room full of questions, and yet Mr. Smith was worried about his image. How predictable and boring. I hated boring.

“Believe me, we’re better off having this conversation up here. You don’t want this getting out,” I replied with a sinister smile before moving to sit on Samuel’s bed. A plume of his cologne wafted over me the moment my ass touched the soft mattress. The smell was intoxicating and made me think of the whips and chains I’d found in his room. You know what they say: People that seek control through sex usually felt no control in their lives. Maybe that was why I pinned Noah down while talking dirty to Samuel. I liked the cogs and wheels of my relationships to grind—figuratively and literally.

Renon tugged at his tie before answering Mr. Smith. “Your son owes me a lot of money. He approached me last year and wanted to invest in a business opportunity of mine. He figured hisconnectionswould like my product. Samuel owes me my percentage and hasn’t paid up. My other investors are getting antsy and are prepared to act if not compensated immediately.”

I snorted, knowing precisely what Renon was doing—polishing up the truth so it was something Samuel’s father would understand. I guess that’s what happened when a scrappy drug dealer attended business school. I bet he could sell sand to the beach if given a chance.

“A business venture? That’s what this is about? Listen, unless my son signed a contract with lawyers present, he doesn’t owe you a dime. You can take me to court, but I can assure you, I’ll win. Ialwayswin.”

“It’s not that sort of business,” I replied with an eye roll. “Let me simplify what Renon so eloquently said,” I added before glancing at Samuel. He looked murderous; I could practically feel the tainted drugs on my tongue from his stare alone. Go on, Samuel. Get mad. Feel that revenge. I liked them angry and helpless.

“Octavia, please don’t,” Samuel croaked out. He lost the right to beg the moment he aided in my brother’s death.

“Your son deals drugs,” I said, and Mr. Smith flinched before slumping his shoulders. “I don’t know if he’s using or just trying to make some side cash—hell, I don’t know why he would even need side cash. But he owes a lot, and the people sending invoices aren’t afraid to take drastic measures.” I didn’t know if that last part was necessarily true, but I could assume. “Your son is fucked.”

I watched as Mr. Smith’s face turned red, those rosy cheeks blooming with rage. “Samuel, seriously? Again? Why do you do this?” Mr. Smith replied in exasperation, shocking the hell out of me. “I swear you are my greatest mistake. Do you need more attention, boy? Is that what this is? Do you need to suckle your mother’s tit and let me tuck you into bed?”

My brow shot up, and Renon stifled a chuckle. “Dad, I just. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“You owe seventy thousand dollars, asshole,” Renon replied with a roll of his eyes. “That’s kind of a big deal.”

“Why, Samuel? Why do you do this? I’ve given you the world, and you fuck it up at every turn.” Samuel looked scarily pale as he slumped against the wall and fell to the floor in an overly dramatic move that made me question how I ever thought he was a dominant man. Samuel Smith was a fucking coward. “Who is the supplier?” Mr. Smith asked while pulling out his checkbook from his pocket.

“The Mexican cartel,” Renon replied quickly. Shit, those guys didn’t play around. I wasn’t sure what surprised me more, the fact that Renon worked with such an organized organization or the amount of money Samuel owed.

“Does the Mexican cartel accept checks?” Mr. Smith spat before using his hand like a makeshift table and writing out his son’s debt. “Please tell your employers that I sincerely apologize for my son’s negligence and that I’m grateful for their cooperation. In the future, please come to me on matters of my son, and I’ll rectify the situation immediately.” It sounded like such a practiced line that I had to stop myself from shaking this man by his shoulders and knocking sense into him.

I stood up, needing to feel like I was on an even playing field with these men.

This was so anticlimactic that I felt that deep-seated need to lash out. It was almost too easy—too bland. This was the reveal I got? After everything? It was a hollow sort of relief. Things were falling into place, but it wasn’t big enough for me. I wanted Mr. Smith to roll over in a fit of rage. I wanted him to disown his son and wrap his pudgy hands around his throat. I wanted broken glass, flailing fists. This wasn’t nearly enough for the months of pent up fury and grief I suffered through. Mr. Smith seemed desensitized to Samuel’s antics like he was used to cleaning up his son’s messes.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit.

But all I got was the click of a pen and the scratching of seventy thousand dollars on paper. “He killed my brother,” I said with a growl the moment Renon had the check in hand.

Mr. Smith’s eyes widened but then fizzled out. “You. I know you. You’re that crazy chick. The one whose brother overdosed on campus? I heard you’ve been causing quite a stir. I thought you were admitted.”

At the mention of crazy, I preened. I guess I learned to wear that label like a badge of honor. I conditioned myself to accept their prejudice. “Your son likes crazy, apparently. He fucked me, knowing that he was the reason for William’s death. Then he held a gun to my chest.”

I expected to shock the ugly man, but he didn’t bat an eye. He didn’t tense. He didn’t have the decency to look ashamed for what his son had done.

“He knew the drugs were bad, and he gave them to my brother,” I added with conviction.

“Sounds like that was a risk your brother was willing to take,” Mr. Smith replied callously. He didn’t even seem surprised. Maybe he knew all along. Perhaps he knew what his son was capable of. Maybe the world was as fucked up as I believed it was.

“Your son killed my brother. What about the debt of a life?” I asked, my voice rising. A hand clasped around my wrist, a subtle warning from Renon that made me want to rip off his hand.

“You can’t prove that my son had any involvement in your brother’s death,” Mr. Smith replied calmly, though there was a glower hidden behind his stare. “No one would believe you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I replied darkly.

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