Chapter 10
Kevin stopped pretending.
Finally.
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“I wanted them to see.”
“See what?”
“You lose control.”
I almost laughed.
“By attacking my son.”
“He was fine.”
“Stop saying that.”
Kevin stepped closer.
“He got mud on him.”
“You laughed.”
“So?”
“He cried.”
“He always cries.”
There.
Contempt.
The kind I wanted everyone to hear.
Kevin continued.
“He cries when he loses games.”
“He's four.”
“He cries when food isn't what he wants.”
“He's four.”
“He cries when you leave.”
“He's four.”
Kevin threw up his hands.
“Exactly!”
Silence.
He didn't hear himself.
I did.
Everyone did.
“He's four.”
I repeated.
“And your evidence against him is that he behaves like one.”
Kevin's face hardened.
“You make excuses for everything.”
“No.”
I stared.
“I recognize age.”
Dad interrupted.
“The south crews needed confidence.”
I turned.
“You knew?”
His face changed.
He had said not mine.
Now—
“I knew Kevin wanted a demonstration.”
“Did you know about the bucket?”
Silence.
Madison looked at Richard.
“Grandpa?”
He said nothing.
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Layers of deniability.
Dad gave the bucket.
Kevin invited witnesses.
Madison delivered humiliation.
Each person could pretend they only handled one piece.
I looked at Daniel Ross.
“What happened after?”
He swallowed.
“Kevin said you'd blow up.”
I glanced at the collapsed barbecue station.
Fair.
“And?”
“If you hit him…”
Silence.
Kevin smiled.
There.
He wanted that too.
“Go on.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“He'd tell the crews you were unstable.”
I stared.
“Because I defended my son.”
Kevin laughed.
“Because you lost control.”
“You attacked me.”
“You were supposed to slap me.”
I blinked.
Interesting.
He hadn't expected the counterpunch.
“Why?”
“Because you'd look emotional.”
The same trap.
Provocation.
Reaction.
Narrative.
I looked at the guests.
Some looked ashamed.
Good.
Kevin continued.
“You always win when everything is hidden behind numbers.”
He pointed toward the house.
“Today people saw you.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Today they saw you.”
His smile disappeared.
I continued.
“They saw your daughter dump mud on a four-year-old.”
Nothing.
“They saw you laugh.”
Nothing.
“They saw you slap your sister.”
Nothing.
“They saw Dad attack me.”
Nothing.
“And then they saw your stolen card.”
Silence.
I nodded toward Daniel.
“Is that what inspired confidence?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
Kevin stared.
Daniel continued.
“It looked ugly.”
Good.
Kevin turned on him.
“You took my money.”
There.
Another slip.
Daniel's eyes hardened.
“Your money?”
Silence.
Kevin realized.
Too late.
I looked at him.
“You paid Daniel from my account.”
Daniel stared at me.
Kevin said:
“Don't.”
I looked at Daniel.
“How much?”
He swallowed.
“Fifty thousand.”
“For?”
“Loyalty dinners.”
Kevin snapped:
“It was operational.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“He wanted us to say we'd support him if Claire stepped down.”
Silence.
I almost smiled.
“Did you?”
Daniel stared at Kevin.
“No.”
Kevin went pale.
“You took fifty thousand.”
“Yes.”
“And lied?”
Daniel's face hardened.
“You told us the money was Claire's approval.”
Silence.
There.
Fraud in mafia language.
Not paperwork.
Authority impersonation.
Kevin had been using my own money as proof I supported replacing myself.
I looked at him.
“That is almost impressive.”
He glared.
Then Daniel added:
“There were more payments.”
My attention sharpened.
“How many?”
He looked at Thomas.
Then me.
“Five crews.”
Kevin said:
“Enough.”
Daniel ignored him.
“Two took the money.”
Kevin smiled faintly.
Good.
“But only one agreed.”
His smile vanished.
“One?”
Daniel nodded.
“Marcus Dean.”
I knew Marcus.
Aggressive.
Old-school.
Not surprising.
“Where is he?”
Daniel looked toward the street.
“On his way.”
Kevin stopped breathing.
I smiled.
“You invited your own replacement vote to a four-year-old's birthday party.”
No answer.
May you like
I looked at the ruined candles.
“How thoughtful.”
