Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Savannah smiles at that. “Yeah. I remember this one picnic…” She shakes her head. “She was a good mother, Vinnie. Or she tried to be, anyway.”
“She was resigned to her place in the world. In the family,” I say. “I think part of her problem with you is sheer jealousy, Sav. You’re getting to live the life she didn’t get to live. A life on your own terms, with the man you chose, not one who was chosen for you.”
“Yeah, I get that, but shouldn’t she be happy for me? I’m her kid.”
I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes and running my hands through my hair. “I think in her own way she is. She just feels… I guess she feels like I came back for you. And she was just as happy to have me overseas. Where I was safe from our grandfather.”
“I’m not sure that’s the case.”
The voice sends chills down my spine.
Savannah and I both turn around. Our grandfather stands in the doorway. He takes a few slow steps into the room.
“And how is my daughter?” he asks, his voice solemn.
“You’d know if you bothered to come last night like you said you would,” I say to him.
He snaps his head in my direction. “Watch your tone with me, Vincent. You expect to gain my trust by being belligerent?”
“I’ve done everything you asked,” I say.
He leers at me. “If that were true, you’d be in Colombia.”
“What are you talking about, Grandpa?” Savannah demands. “This is our mother. You really think Vinnie was going to get on a plane when our mother—”
“Be quiet, Savannah,” Grandfather says. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. And believe me, that day will never come.”
Instinctively, my hands curl into fists. I could break the motherfucker’s nose right now for talking to my sister that way.
But I hold myself in check.
“Sav,” I say. “Excuse us for a moment. Spend some time with our mother.”
I walk toward Grandfather, effectively pushing him out the door and closing it behind me. I walk with him to the alcove at the end of the floor.
“What the hell was that about?” I ask.
He scoffs. “What? About Savannah?”
“Of course not. I know exactly what that was about. I know how you feel about Savannah. You think of her as a second-class citizen, just the way you think of your own daughter. The woman who, by the way, gave you three grandchildren.”
He exhales sharply out of his nose. “That’s debatable.”
I cock my head. Did he just say what I think he said?
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He smirks. “Read into it whatever you want, Vincent.”
“I can’t say anything about myself, but I remember my mother being pregnant with Mikey and Savannah. I remember touching her belly and feeling the baby’s kick. They are your grandchildren, Grandfather.”
His face remains stoic. “Yes, they are.”
What the hell is he trying to say?
I have no idea. But I do know what I need to get done.
“You need to stop texting Raven Bellamy.”
“You are not in any position to tell me what to do.”
I raise an eyebrow. “At least you’re not denying it.”
“Is that what you want? Fine. I haven’t been texting Raven Bellamy.” He scowls. “Why would I bother with Raven Bellamy? She’s of no consequence to me at all.”
I shake my head slowly. “That’s where you’re wrong. You know she means something to me, and you’re not one to let any kind of potential leverage pass you by.”
“She’s better off if she stays the hell away from you, Vincent.”
“Well, for once we agree on something.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “Just leave her alone. I’ve ended it. All I want is for her to be safe.”
“And she will be,” he says, “as long as she doesn’t interfere in things.”
“She hasn’t interfered in—” I stop.
We still don’t know who that Uber driver who told her to invite me over last Friday night was…
Who…
Cogs start to turn in my head. Brick Latham was killed, and… Isn’t it interesting that neither Raven nor her parents were home that night?
Perhaps my grandfather didn’t have anything to do with the Uber thing after all.
Or…
“Did that attorney ever do any work for you?” I ask.
“What attorney?”
“The one whose throat was slit at the Bellamy ranch house Friday night,” I say. “And don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. We’ve been through this.”
“That attorney could mean anything, Vincent. I have many attorneys, and why on earth would I ever do business with an attorney who specializes in nonprofit organizations?”
“Why wouldn’t you? Nonprofit organizations are a great way to launder money.”
He presses his lips together, and I can see the tension in his face.
I’m on to something, and he knows it.
I point at him sharply. “Fuck it all. It was you.”
“Vincent, I am never one to not own up to what he has done,” he says. “And for once, it was not me.”