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CHAPTER FIVE. daddy issues.
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FOR THE FIRST TIME in what feels like forever, I finally spend the night in my own house. It feels fitting, chaos overwhelmed my last visits at both Jason and Lola's places, and there's not many places on this island where I can seek comfort. That is with the exception of my father's study, which is believed by my mother to be left untouched since he was taken from it in handcuffs, though she doesn't know that I spend my most lonesome nights in that very room.
Sure, I'll admit being within the same four walls that contain the memory of his sighting isn't particularly welcoming. The moment my bare feet grazed the hardwood flooring which broke his fall as Sheriff Peterkin and her right-hand man Officer Shoupe threw him to the ground, I could feel tears begin to prick against my waterline. I stopped myself with a few self-controlling blinks, since I haven't cried since birth and frankly have no reason to break that pattern. Anyone can imagine that it wasn't ideal for a 17 year-old girl to watch her one role model be snatched from beneath her grip, especially considering it was at the moment that my involvement in the family business was supposed to be initiated.
Since I'm telling you how my father was arrested and is now sleeping solemnly behind iron bars, you'd think our company was on some grade-A, organized mafia crime shit. As cool as that'd be, it's far from the truth. Caesar Flores was, in fact, an accountant. Possibly the only reputable one in this county, hence why his customers ranged from those with pure intentions and from those with a foot stuck in life's gutter. The latter amounted to more people than we expected and, as you can imagine, dealing with them began to create a challenge that required my dad to dabble in dirt. Dissatisfaction breeds revenge and, like a herd of life-sucking vultures, a group of Judas' formed with the aim to take my father down.
That's where I come into this. If our thoughts had gone to plan, I'd be merely an apprentice at the firm, skipping the common pre-college, frat party summer for weeks of cute office outfits and an entrance to a comfortable career path. Instead, I'm now the hands of the avenging operation, collecting lists of names from my father on those who he assumes wronged him and dealing my own hand of hurt to them in return. What my dad believes will wound his betrayers is if I damage their sons' hearts — although I can't help wondering if he believes that to be my sole strength as a person. I'd like to imagine he thinks of me high enough to be capable of actual vengeance, but it's not like I can really ask him anymore. He's gone, and I'm left to be in charge.
