Page 44 of Sing For Us

“I love you more, sunce moje.”

***

“Are you having fun?” Emin asks me as I take a sip from my whiskey. The bar we are hanging out in is just fifteen minutes away from my house.

“I don’t know,” I furrow my brows. “I am just worried about my dad.”

“Come on! He told you that everything is fine and that you should go out.”

“Point taken. But there is this nagging feeling that I should be at home.”

“That’s your guilt eating away at you that you should be young and stupid sometimes.” He is right. All my life I have been training to be the perfect assassin and to take over my dad's jobs slowly, but I am starting to get exhausted. Everywhere I look, I see people my age having fun and hooking up, so why shouldn’t I? Emin notices the realization on my face and pats me on the back. When I look at him, I smile. Emin is my best friend, and I have gone through thick and thin with him. He always protected me, and when I needed an assist on a hit, he was there.

My dad always joked that he and I would make a great couple, but I had none of it. And neither did Emin. We met while I was in high school in Switzerland; he stood up for me when a boy mocked me when I stuttered just once. From then on, we became lifelong friends.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me, while another song by Jala Brat is playing. It’s a high-energy fusion of Balkan tunes and modern Western hip-hop beats. The people around us are dancing to the upbeat tunes, and my eyes are scanning the room. Is there no one interesting here?

“What?” I don’t even look at my friend as I am still looking for someone who might indulge my wicked desires. But there is absolutely fucking no one.

I sigh. “When was the last time I got laid?”

“Seriously?” I swear to God, Emin’s laugh is so loud that you can hear it above the music. There is nothing else to do but to laugh with him as well. After we have calmed ourselves down, we take a sip of our drinks.

“Dude, I am serious. I don’t know what to do.”

“For someone who graduated college early, you can be quite daft.” I furrow my brows at his assessment and I pout my lips. I did graduate earlier than most students, at nineteen. But that can’t be what’s off-putting, right?

“I even know what you are thinking.” My friend can read my fucking mind. “And no, it’s not because you graduated earlier. I think you are also fooling yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are not looking for your next great fuck. No, you are looking for love.” I almost spit out my drink. What the fuck is he talking about? I wipe my lips and start shaking my head furiously.

“Absolutely not. I–” He cuts me off by wiggling his finger in my face.

“I’m not even going to indulge in your delusions that you don’t want it. But I will say this as your best friend.” He is squinting his eyes, as if he is asking me for permission to continue. I nod.

“You will know when he is the one when you can’t stop thinking about him. It will become so all-consuming that your heart will be hurting when you are not near him.”

“That sounds like bullshit.” I counter in a second. Love is for fucking wusses, and frankly, I don’t have time for it. Between caring for my dad and doing his hits, I am spent.

“Fine. Just so you know, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you.” And I mean that. “Can you come by later? I need a second pair of eyes on a plan to take out a hit.

“Sounds good.” I finish my drink, and I put money on our table. My cue that I want to leave.

“Same time next week?” he asks me, and I nod at him. As I am driving home, I can’t get Emin’s words out of my head. My life is just starting, and I should find someone who shares the same passions as me.

***

“Baba, I am home!” I yell throughout the house as I enter from the back. My dad and I decided that I should park in our underground garage behind our house to keep my anonymity.

“Baba, hello?” I don’t get a response, and my teeth are on edge. Something is wrong, and I take tentative steps towards the living room. I am not even in the living room, and I hear gurgling. I grab the nearest weapon I could find, a vase, and I sprint towards the living room.

What I see makes my blood boil, and the tears in my eyes are already forming.

A tall man is standing over my dad’s body, while he is bleeding out.