Impossible Spindle

Eight

VIII
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Matthew

I phoned for I decided would be the last time but when his voicemail didn't pick up, I got a little hopeful that he'd actually answer.

But he didn't.

"Fuck you."

As I entered the dining area, it was already empty. No staff, nobody. Except for the immaculately placed breakfast and the fruity smell of coffee. I dropped my phone on one of the chairs, a little too harsh because it slid out from the seat, then on the floor.

"Fuck you too!"

"What was that?" I peeked one glance behind my shoulder and found Rachael descending the stairs. I had no appetite to eat but there were only grim chances that she'd let me go without eating everything now.

She neared the dining table, her eyes on my phone between us. Picking it up I shoved the thing inside my pocket. "Never mind."

"He's still not answering?" Damn, she knew me well. How could she know everyone that well? "You told me yesterday that he's not." She added quickly, trying not to make the fact sound so obvious.

"Yeah. He's not." My eyes did a once over. She was in another one of her black dresses, it made me wonder how much of them she actually owned. Maybe a hundred at least. "Where is dad?" I turned back, not wanting the unsettling memories to revive and sat on my usual spot. She sat beside me.

"Work," She said while filling my plate with steaming ricotta pancakes. "But that's normal for Zander right? He's never home on weekends anyway." I watched as her hands jammed on the coffee pot before she reached for the fruits at the center. It was hardly a minute and she already missed cutting the banana slices with the right edge twice.

I held her hand still gripping the knife tight. "You'll only cut yourself doing that."

She remained frozen, her head lowered. I gently pried the knife from her palm and she jumped, finally coming out of her daze.

I stifled a smile. "You should eat."

It looked like she wandered off again. I ducked into my food and saw her doing the same after sometime. We ate in silence, and I checked on her time to time to see her playing with the fork. She barely had more than a few bites.

I didn't interrupt her. She was definitely thinking about Zander. There were a few things I knew which agitated Rachael, and my brother was one of those. He'd made a habit of being out every weekend－apparently partying, fucking, and getting his ass drunk. It always bothered Rachael more than it should because nevertheless, she could do nothing. Zander wasn't a kid, and he unquestionably wasn't me. Where I managed my time between work and Ndrangheta business well, I made sure to be home as much as possible for her. Since I came to power after my father, he was occupied with the responsibilities as the Consigliere after the former got killed in an accident, until it'd be my brother's one day. It was a shame we couldn't chop the bastard into pieces who did the kill, which was one of the many reasons to finish what I'd left off. The things I'd do once I found her...I couldn't think straight from the thrill it would give me that fucking day.

I was almost done eating when Rachael chose to start. "Can you talk to Zander if he shows up at work today?"

Wiping my mouth patiently, I turned to her. "That's the first thing I'm doing even if it means I have to hunt every bar or hotel where he's probably passed out right as we talk." I had a colloquium to attend today at the London Business School but that could go down for now. I got a fucking ticking bomb disguised as my brother to tackle.