Page 16 of Knox Unleashed
He never uses Knox’s name. It’s alwaysheorhimorthat man.
While the history between our families is deep, I think the thing that bothers my father most is the way Knox can lead without fear, whereas my father has to threaten to get anything done.
I try to think of a lie my father would believe. He’s a clever man and will see through it straightaway if it’s weak. If I tell him it’s about unpaid invoices, my father will overreact and use it as an opportunity to challenge Knox.
“He’s thinking of buying a business.”
“Yourbusiness?”
I knew that would garner his interest, as he hates this place, but I shrug, like I’m indifferent. “He asked. I said no.”
This has my father’s full attention. “You know what else he’s thinking about buying?”
I shake my head. “The man barely says two words to me on any given day.” It’s a lie, but my father doesn’t know this. “It was a short conversation. Have I ever considered selling? I said no. That was it. I didn’t ask any more questions because what he does is his concern and not mine.”
My father comes over to the rack I’m moving. “You never did have a good head for business. You could fleece the man. Make a killing. Then, get a proper job instead of running this shit hole.”
When I took on running this place while my grandfather was sick, it was losing money. Now, thisshit holeis profitable and pays me a decent salary. Not enough for trips to Paris to see all the art in the Louvre, but enough to give me a sunny break once a year and keep gas in my car.
When I don’t answer, my father does that thing where he dips his chin to try to get me to look into his eyes. “You think people won’t notice?”
“Notice what?”
“You, standing out there with the president of the local organized crime gang.”
I sigh and turn to face him. “Dad. It’s a free country. I can’t stop the man asking me questions.”
“You embarrass me when you let people think they can walk in where my family runs their business.”
There it is. It’s not about me, or what Knox really wanted, or whether he intended to do me any harm. It’s about how me being seen with him affects the sheriff’s reputation. I feel old instincts rise, the urge to apologize, to promise it won’t happen again. To smooth things over and make his life easier so he’ll leave faster.
But I think back to something my therapist said before I paraphrase her response. “I can live my life without running mychoices through a filter for your approval or consideration of how it will affect you. You’re the sheriff. You do you. I run a bait and marine supply business that relies heavily on the patronage of the local community, including a group of men who identify as bikers. Your opinion here doesn’t matter.”
Dad’s nostrils flare, and his breathing gets heavier with every word I say.
“Maren,” he says, low and controlled. “I don’t know where you got all that bullshit from, but that was a new low, even for you. From childhood, I gave you rules for life, for self-discipline, to maintain control of who you are and what you stand for. I expected better.”
I huff at that. “Yeah, well, we view my childhood differently. Your actions caused me nothing but pain and loneliness.”
And maybe that’s why I’m still here, because even though both my grandparents are gone, I’m wrapped in the memory of them standing here in this building. I practiced rollerblading in the large storeroom with my grandmother. I learned to fish off the dock with my grandfather. And I did hours of homework sitting behind the counter with them.
“You wouldn’t evenbehere if it weren’t for me.”
“I’m sure Mom super appreciated the two minutes the sperm donation took.”
The words fall out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. My hand flies to cover my mouth way too late.
“You bitch,” my father says, getting close to my face.
His hand goes up, and as it does, I take a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
And I was doing so well at not falling into old patterns.
“That club is dangerous. That man’s brother almost killed me. Since then, I’ve done everything I can to hold my head high and know I’d defend this town with my last breath if I had to.”
A whisper of a thought flashes through my mind:It would be better for everyone if someone took that shot.
“Men like that protect their own. So, you refused to sell to him. What happens next? If they can’t have it, they decide you can’t have it either. You wake up tomorrow and the store is on fire, burning around you like the death trap it is. And then, who will you come running to? Me. Your actions will put them in my path again. Do you want them to try to kill me too?”
