Comin' Home to You (14 page)

Nicky shook his head quickly. “So how is that a reason to take out Scar? There's more to it than that.”

Paxton smiled. “Intuitive. Good. I like that. Yeah, there is more to it. I can judge a man. I can judge his character, his aspirations, all the things that make a man a man. Scar is the type of man who will bury everyone beneath him to climb to the top all for his own goals. He will make friends, and with them, he will destroy his enemies. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust his motivations. He’ll destroy all I have built for a stupid little boy. Fuck that! I am not letting him fuck everything I have helped build.”

“He wouldn't do that. Yeah, he might want to climb to the top, but so the fuck what? He ain’t going to destroy all that you-”

“He damn sure will!” Paxton boomed. He had no intention of hearing a dissenting argument. “He’s a fucking Grayson. His father made an attempt at the throne before. He got what he deserved in prison and I swear, you tell Scar that and you and your family will fucking regret it.”

Nicky knew what Paxton could do. He stayed silent as Paxton ranted on.

“I don’t trust a Grayson in my position. I definitely don’t trust Scar. Anthony here doesn’t either. He isn’t destroying what I helped build.”

Nicky could understand that presumption, but at the same time, Paxton came off as exceedingly paranoid. Although, his suspicions had substance. For the longest time, Scar and his family had known that Buddy Grayson was murdered within prison walls. The motive, however, was unclear. There were rumors of the killing being about a petty pornographic magazine. If Scar knew that it was an assassination by his own boss, then there would be hell to pay. Possibly another reason that they wanted him dead. A more likely reason was that they wanted a stronger stranglehold on the meth trade.

“Even so,” persuaded Nicky, not voicing his thoughts on their reasoning. “It’s like you completely forget about his earning power.”

“He’s replaceable,” Paxton growled. “I’m growing tired of this heat and I am growing tired of your nonsensical questions. Anthony, you talk to him. Talk some fucking sense into him.”

Passerini wiped a bead of sweat off of his brow. “Okay, let's talk numbers.”

There were many more questions he wanted to ask, but Nicky thought it wiser to listen instead.

“You do the job, you take Scar's spot immediately, and you will take all orders from me until we feel you can do the job on your own. For pay, we will give you $10,000 when Scar is disposed of. You get to be the one paying out your boys, but you will be kicking up more to me and the top. But if you follow your buddy Scar’s route, you’ll be doing well. Shit, you’d be making six figures a month.”

“Six fucking figures!?” That amount made the eyes of Nicky almost burst from his head. His best friend was a millionaire and still paid those under him poorly. His fists clinched tightly. “He makes THAT much in a fucking month!?”

“Told you he made a lot. He earns it, that’s for damn sure. But that still isn’t an excuse for the way he treats you. Does that change your perception of your best friend?”

“A little.”

“Then you should take back what you deserve. We know how hard you work. I’d wager a few grand that if Scar didn’t have you, his operation wouldn’t be worth a rat’s shit. You’re running this show, now you just gotta take it. That man that you think is your best friend, well he’s the reason why you are living in that roach infested trailer, scraping by when you should be in a built house eating steaks for dinner. You only succeed when you put in the work for the real tough jobs. Time for you to step it up.”

For a moment, Nicky was easily persuaded by Passerini’s motivating rallying cry. All he had to do was simply kill Scar. He had experience in ending lives, so why would this one be any different? He easily answered his question. He’d be killing his best friend. They had been close since boyhood. When he had nowhere else to turn to, the Graysons took him in and treated him as one of their own. Maybe Scar was withholding money. That’s something he can ask about, man to man. This wasn’t a good enough reason for murdering his closest friend.

Crossing his arms and looking at the sand below him, Nicky wasn't sure how to go about saying no. He didn’t want to anger them further, but he just couldn’t kill Scar. There was no way in hell he could do it.

“There’s gotta be another way. Why can't just tell Scar to not be so shady? half-joked Nicky.

The two bosses remained silent, each with a vexed look on their face. Paxton put his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Let me break it down to you one final time. If you don’t do it, someone else will. But this someone else will be loyal. He won’t be a traitor. Remember, we don’t like traitors.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means what it means,” said Passerini, through a shit eating grin. “You saying no is equal to you being a traitor. You remember what we do to traitors and their families?”

A wave of fury came over Nicky, but he quietly held it in. Threatening him or his family was a cardinal sin in his eyes. But as before, talking back or returning the threat to these two wouldn't be sensible. He'd be willing to bet he would be at the bottom of the lake in an hour if he didn't watch his mouth.

“We'll give you a week to do it,” ordered Paxton. “If he's not dead by this time next week, then we’ll find someone loyal to do it. If you do decide to grow a pair, we want this done low-key. We don’t want the FBI or DEA up on our shit. I’d like it if he disappeared, kinda like how his older brother just disappeared one day.”

Passerini took a quick glance at his cell phone. “What he said. No one else needs to know about this. We don’t want any of your hillbilly friends to rise up in vengeance and create a national scene. We’ve done well to stay out of sight and out of mind for years. We need it to stay that way.”

Distraught and dejected, though not showing too much emotion, Nicky meekly nodded.

Paxton showed a phony face of pleasure. “Good. You made the right choice. You’ll thank us when you have that house you always wanted for your family.”

The opening of the screen door caused his trip down memory lane to end, almost perfectly on cue. Out came his five year old boy dressed in Mickey Mouse pajamas. His shirt was a little short, causing his pooching belly to be visible. He had dark hair like his father, but his face was almost a clone of his mother. Holding an action figure in one hand and a potato chip in the other, Joshua stared at his father in wonder.

“What are you doing, daddy?”

Nicky swallowed. Suddenly, it was a little tough to breathe. “Sitting outside, little man. Ain’t it past your bed time?”

“Aw, I don't want to go to bed. I'm not tired.”

“You need to, bud. Go back inside.”

“Will you come in with me?”

Nicky disliked having his private time interrupted. Frustrated, Nicky almost yelled at the boy to go back inside. He didn't feel like being a caring father right now. But the boy's innocent face broke down those walls. This boy was one of the main reasons he was contemplating doing such a monumental task.

Sighing, Nicky’s rubbed his son’s head. “Alright, go back inside. I'll be in there in a minute.”

After laying Joshua in his bed, it took very little time for him to fall asleep. With his fatherly task completed, Nicky went back outside to resume his activities. Cracking open a can of beer, he took a long drink and sat back down. The other two kids were still awake, while his wife seemed content watching reality shows on the television. Watching the condensation drip off of the cold aluminum beer can, he remembered that his future actions would affect them greatly. Even though he loved his family, there was always a wary feeling toward them. It was an anxious sentiment, one that he couldn’t describe. He always felt like he would be betrayed or let down by them. He had already cheated on his wife before. Nicky never stopped loving her, but he constantly believed she would leave him or something to that extent at some point in the future. It was a feeling he could never shake. A peculiar upbringing created his mindset.

Nicky’s father and mother divorced when he was eight years of age. His mother, who was constantly hooked on drugs, never put up a fight when it came to custody for Nicky and his younger brother. His father reluctantly took the two boys with him, but didn’t pay much attention to them. While being extremely poor, the elder Suarez spent most of his nights at the bar, usually bringing home any woman drunk enough to have sex with him. One of those women eventually became his wife. Mary Jo, or Mommy Jo, as she liked to be called, was the opposite of a classy broad. She would either get drunk at the house in front of the boys or come back from the bar plastered. The couple spent most nights fighting or having sex extremely loudly. This resulted in many sleepless nights for the two brothers, as her wails could be heard a block away. She wasn’t a good mother figure either. Both boys spent most breakfasts or dinners fending for themselves and their clothes were never washed.

But one night completely changed everything he knew about family. A twelve-year old Nicky was asleep in his bedroom, until the stumbling of a person entering the front door woke him up. He knew by the inebriated laughter that it was Mary Jo. She had just returned home from the bar, as per the usual. From what his ears processed, his father didn’t seem to be with her. That happened from time to time. He would get caught up drinking with friends and completely ignore his wife. Nicky expected a long night of sleeplessness, if Mary Jo continued to drink. Her loud, intoxicated behavior wouldn’t stop until the sun rose. That was almost the every night norm at his home.

Unexpectedly, his bedroom door opened. Not wishing to make any conversation with his abhorred stepmother, he pretended he was asleep. Mary Jo would have moments where she would open the door and watch him, but he was unsure if she was just being creepy or checking up on him as a normal mother would. Waiting for her to close the door and resume her drunken activities, Nicky patiently waited for her departure. Instead, he heard footsteps approaching his bed. Faking light snoring sounds, he hoped that would be enough to make his stepmother go away. She did the opposite by climbing onto his twin sized bed. Nicky opened his eyes, but didn’t move a muscle.

His stillness persisted even as Mary Jo rubbed his crotch.

Nicky was motionless as his stepmother slowly took his pajama pants off and placed his flaccid penis into her mouth. He can still remember her moans as she playfully sucked it, before inserting his erection into her vagina. He remained petrified as she rode him and cried out in pleasure.

He couldn’t move because it felt so damn good.

After she was done with him and had left his bedroom, Nicky was left alone in the darkness with his thoughts. He just lost his virginity, something he constantly talked about with his friends. But there was no way he could tell anyone that his stepmother practically raped him. Regardless, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it. The next day, while his father was out of the house, Nicky rubbed Mary Jo’s breasts from behind as she was on the couch watching television. To his surprise, she freaked out, pushing him down to the ground. His father walked in to hear the commotion. She immediately screamed that Nicky came on to her and tried to have sex with her last night when he was gone. Following her fabricated story, Nicky endured the worst beating from his father that he ever received. He somehow managed to escape, but not after becoming a bloody mess with multiple broken bones. He never returned to his home, deciding he would rather stay with his best friend Scar. From what he learned over the years, Mary Jo left him a few weeks after, and with no one left, the Suarez father’s anger was lashed out at the younger brother. The little sibling resented Nicky for running away and abandoning him. The boy fled a year later. His current location was unknown.

Such an event made lasting impressions on his psyche. Every time he spanks his son for disobeying, flashbacks played from his father almost beating him to death. Each time his oldest son spent time alone with Rachel, he wondered if she would pull a stunt like his stepmother did. Nicky knew he wasn’t the uncaring man his father was and that Rachel was not the filthy whore Mary Jo was, but he could never shake those thoughts from his head. However, it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to provide for them and for the children to grow up better than he did. He knew they deserved better and so did he. All of these emotions and beliefs were what made him sit outside at night, dreaming of a better tomorrow. Solitude was one of the only actions that helped his onset of anxiety.

To obtain that life he truly wanted, Nicky had a job to do. He only had two more days to accomplish the task. Since Thursday, he did nothing but think of ways to avoid ending the life of his best friend. Even if his hand was being forced by his superiors, there was no way he could consciously unload a bullet into the back of Scar’s skull, or unsuspectingly poison his drinks. Just thinking about his best friend dying gave him debilitating anxiety. Scar and the Grayson family took him in when he fled from his father. He could never repay their generosity in two lifetimes, and now he was expected to murder the head of their family and lose his best friend? This was all too much for Nicky’s fragile state of mind.

But if he didn’t do what needed to be done, his family would be in danger. Passerini had no qualms doing dirty deeds. Even if he didn’t do it directly, his blindly loyal men would put a bullet into a child if he so wished. Paxton was the same way. It didn’t leave Nicky with much choice. He tried his best to use his newly gained knowledge of Scar’s money hoarding ways as ammunition to hate him. It was then that he realized that no matter what he did or how he thought, there was no way he could kill Scar. What right did he have to murder his best friend and take away from everything that he loved and cared for? Nicky tried to imagine if the roles were reversed. Could Scar kill him, knowing that he is a father of three? Scar loved his nephew like it was his true son. There was nothing wrong with doing what he did to provide for him. Nicky would have done the same if he could have. Scar was his brother and there was no way in hell he was going to end his life.