Page 16 of Risky Fight

“Absolutely,” I reply, returning his smile, “being eaten is no fun.” It’s lie but he will find that out when he’s a grownup. We lie to kids for a while about these things. “Nolan, I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends when you start school.”

“I heard Roark say homeschool might be best, but there’s no friends here.” He sighs, and I can tell he misses his home. His support system and the company of other kids.

“Roark would be a shit teacher,” I say out loud.

“Swear jar,” he giggles from his belly, “you’re right. Was he good at school?” It’s my turn to laugh — Roark has never beengoodand school wasn’t a place for a boy like him.

“Not really, no,” I tell him, “but you are too smart for homeschool, I will try persuade him to send you to a nice school where you can make friends.” Roark can’t alienate this boy that way, he will already have a famous dad, no mam and ties to the mob. For him to be a loner isn’t fair, let him be a child until he is old enough to understand his legacy, then allow him to choose.

“I don’t even think there is a school near here, at least at Pop’s house in the city there were people,” he says, and I gather he has met the family. I’m sure the old man is delighted to have a grandson to carry on the their legacy and family name. He’s a sucker for tradition, and likes things taken care of the old-school way.

“This place is in the sticks,” I agree with him, “want to go find a snack?” I check the time, we have been playing for a while now. Kids eat often, and I haven’t a clue what his routine is.

“No thanks,” he shakes his head, “I will eat at lunch time, I don’t want to stop playing now.” He goes back to his game where he is lining up his cars in color order along the edge of the carpet. I watch the singing animals on the TV while he does it, wondering how different his life will be now that he knows his dad.

Chapter10 - Roark

“Where is Nolan?” My stepsister asks when I walk through the front door without him, they have gotten used to having him all day.

“I got a nanny for him,” it’s not a lie, “he is staying at the house today. It’s safer not to be taking him in and out, I don’t want anyone to see him. Not yet.” She looks disappointed, the girls have fallen in love with the little charmer already.

“You don’t need a nanny, Roark, you have family. We will watch him. I don’t mind going to watch him at your place,” she says, and I appreciate it, but this arrangement gives me even more leverage to keep Lou with me. She is working off the boys’ debt by being my nanny, and whatever else I decide I want her to be.

“It’s okay, I have everything set up so it will work for us,” I say, “but thank you, I appreciate you girls helping me out.” I put an arm around her shoulder in a rare moment of affection. “Where’s the Old Man?” I ask her, the house is very quiet for this time of day. Usually you can hear his loud voice bellowing through the hallways.

“Out back by the pool. He says it’s hotter than Satan’s ball sack. He is not working today.” She shrugs, the heat has been unbearable the past few days. Anywhere that is not air-conditioned is downright unpleasant. “Brace yourself, him in a speedo is enough to scar you for life.” I laugh at her expression and walk through the house, out the back door to where my dad is sitting in the swimming pool under an umbrella drinking a whiskey. The weather isn’t normally nice enough to swim here — but even I must admit it looks tempting today.

“Hi,” I say, “hard day in the office?” I joke and he flips me the middle finger. I sit down at the cafe table under the brolly and wait for him to swim over to where I am.

“I am Irish, I am not made for sunshine,” my dad says splashing water on his face. “We have to meet the Russian crew at the dock this afternoon.”

“I know,” I say. “I have taken care of the O’Neill situation,” I tell him as the housekeeper comes out to offer me some cold water.

“Really? There’s been no payment,” he says.

“There will be, I have something of theirs.” That gets his attention. “I have taken Lou.” His whiskey comes out his nose as he chokes on my declaration.

“You what?”

“They owe us money, we need insurance. I wanted a nanny, and if they don’t pay, she works off the debt and we save on my childcare bills.” It makes sense to me, he just looks suspicious. “I have sent for them. Once they know I have Lou I am pretty sure they’ll pay up.”

“Those boys would sell their sister, you sure this will work?” I am banking on them not paying so I can keep her — but I am not telling my father that. “They don’t have the money, it’s just prolonging things.”

“They’ll find it if she is in danger,” I say, stretching out my legs, “if it was my sister I’d find a way. And mine are not even real sisters.” He hates when I say things like that.

“We both know Louise isn’t in danger with you Roark.” He calls me out, and I know I have to prove myself now. Show him I can be as hard as he is. That this isn’t me being soft, that I would do whatever it takes to make sure the money is paid, or someone pays the price for it not being paid.

“Lou isn’t who she was, and neither am I. This is collateral, nothing more. It’s just convenient she can look after Nolan.” It’s hard to hide the emotion from my voice, when it comes to her, I can’t be rational. Last night proved it.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” my father says and it makes my blood boil, “an accountant, a straight-laced lad. He’s not going to take this arrangement well, I don’t want any problems with the cops. Not when we’re busy with the Russian deal.” He’s right. We need to keep a low profile for now, cops sniffing about will not look good.

“I will deal with the number cruncher, he will not be a problem.” I don’t know the man, but I assume he will understand a threat when he hears one. He can’t have her. Even if I can’t have her, no one can have Lou. She is mine, and I am a jealous fucker that way.

“No cops,” he reiterates, “I am trusting you to handle this how you see fit. If this is what you want to do, then you do it.” He climbs out the water and towels off, the sun has already burned this skin to a bright shade of beetroot red. I want to prove myself, that I am more than a monkey fighting in a circus ring. That I am worthy of his legacy. “I see you’re all over the news today.”

He sits down with his towel wrapped around his waist. I haven’t seen the news — I was busy. The morning paper is on the table, and he points to it. My father is one of the few dinosaurs that still gets a newspaper delivered. “Sports page,” he says.

I flip the pages until I find it, a bold headline across the top of the sports section.UFC’s Golden Boy Retires. The slightly smaller subtitle is where I get angry, ‘Amid rumors of his connection to organized crime, Roark has gone off the radar.’

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