Page 53 of Forgetting the Enemy
Before I know it, Ricco and I have had one too many shots, and we both pass out, me on my desk and Ricco on the couch in my office.
***
I wake with a start as someone is banging on my office door. “What the fuck?” I yell.
Ricco moans and rolls over on the couch. The door flies open and in walks my father.Oh, fuck!
“Michael, I heard what happened.Stai bene?” he asks.
“Sto bene. I’m fine. Nobody was hurt, thank God.”
“Your mother and I just got home. After the shooting, Ricco called Marco and told him to be on high alert and to get us home.”
“Where were you?” I ask.
“I took your mother onto the south lawn for a picnic,” he says proudly. “And before you chastise me, I made sure that Marco was there and we were well protected.”
“Gosh, Pop, you are such a hopeless romantic. You make us all look bad.”
“Maybe you should try a little romance once in a while, son. It will do wonders for the relationship. Like there isn’t a doubt in my mind that tonight—”
Oh fuck, no don’t tell me!“Ewww, Dad, stop. You’re talking about my mother, and there are some things you don’t discuss with your children.”
He laughs and then turns serious again. “You know who it was?”
“Not yet, but we found two bodies. Ricco has Jude and Darius working on getting an ID on them now.”
“Once you know, you plan to strike back?” he asks.
I nod. “Of course. Zaira was caught outside in the crossfire, Pop. If it wasn’t for her quick thinking, they would have gotten her.”
“She okay?”
“Yes, she’s a little shaken up but fine. Her arm is hurting, but I think she banged it on the side of the pool when she jumped in for cover.”
He laughs again. “Brilliant. I knew that girl was a keeper.” He pauses and then says, “And how are things with you two?”
I shake my head. “The same.” I offer nothing else, and my pop doesn’t pry. The last thing I want to tell him is that I almost fucked her brains out a little over an hour ago.
“Well, I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing.” He looks at Ricco still passed out on the couch and smirks. He turns back toward me. “A word of advice?”
“Sure, Pop,” I reply.
“Alcohol will not make the hurt go away. It may numb the pain for a bit, but it comes back worse. Face these obstacles head on, with a clear head and a clean conscious.” My father is a wise man.
“Thanks, Pop. I will.”
He turns toward the door and walks out, closing it behind him.
