I’m safe.
Then it hits me.
Luke. And Dad.
I rush around, checking all the people who are huddled outside. I spot Cassidy talking to her mom, along with Vince and his family. I see Tony and Grandma and almost everyone else in my family.
But Luke and Dad aren’t here.
My stomach plummets.
They’re still in there.
I need to go back. I have to.
I can’t lose them.
I move toward the door. It’s like I’m on autopilot. Someone grabs me and pulls me back. They hold me so tight I can’t move.
“What are you doing?”
I turn and see that it’s Vince, holding me.
“They’re still in there!” My throat hurts, and my voice sounds hoarse. “They didn’t get out!”
“Matt, if you go in, you’ll die, too. Do you think they want that?”
But I can’t just stand here. So I fight against him as hard as I can. He manages to hold me tight.
I wish I were stronger.
We watch the bar burn. The flames are towering, and a pillar of thick black smoke is rising up into the sky. Please, I think. I’m not religious, but I pray sometimes. I think it’s a leftover from the Catholic masses Dad used to make us go to before he gave up on trying to make Luke and me religious. So I don’t know if anyone is listening, but now feels like the right time to pray.
Smoke is billowing out of the doorway. I think it’s getting thicker. As a group, we move down the alley, away from the burning building.
I can’t lose my family tonight. I just can’t.
Two figures appear in the doorway.
It’s Luke. And Dad.
Luke’s dragging Dad out. He’s limp. They reach safety, and both of them collapse against the alley wall. I run over to them. Luke’s clothes are steaming, and he’s coughing a lot. But I check his body, and he seems uninjured.
Dad’s mostly okay, too. He looks like he might be in shock, as he’s not moving much, and his stare is fixed on a single point on the ground.
I’ve never seen him look like this.
I wonder if he got hit by the same shock that I did, before Cassidy pulled me out of it.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask.
“He got trapped in the bathroom,” says Luke. “I had to put out a fire by the door. There was an extinguisher under the bar.”
Luke’s an actual hero.
I turn my focus back to Dad. He still looks out of it.
“Just breathe,” I say, trying to keep my voice as even as possible.
He takes in a few deep breaths. That seems to break him out of his daze, and he faces me. I’m expecting him to be mad, but honestly, it’s relief I can see in his features.
He waves a hand. “Stop crowding me.”
He’s going to be fine.
We got so lucky.
And then it hits me. The Donovans. They’re the reason I almost lost my father and my brother. Now that I know Jason isn’t a member of the family, I have no sympathy left for them.
I think I might hate them.
“Everybody down!” shouts Vince.
Just as he says that, I notice headlights at the end of the alley farthest from us. It’s a sleek silver car, blocking our path.
The headlights turn off.
What are they doing?
Has someone come to help us? If so, why are they blocking the alleyway? And why would Vince tell us to get down?
“Run!” shouts Vince.
Everything goes still.
The window lowers. It happens in slow motion.
Other people figure it out a second before I do.
Everyone around us scatters. I see the nozzle of a gun poke out of the window.
Luke grabs my wrist and pulls me into a stumbling run toward the other end of the alley. We go as fast as we can, running close to the wall. I turn back and see Dad right behind us.
I hear the gun first.
Then I feel it.
Bullets rain down around us. It’s so dark, but I can hear them hitting the dumpsters around us. I see sparks, and hear bullets hitting the metal. A body to my right falls, but it’s too dark to tell who it is. Luke is still holding on to my wrist, pulling me forward, his grip like a vise.
I swear I feel a bullet skim over the top of my head.
Luke and I manage to make it out of the alley. We round the corner and press our backs against the wall, so we’re protected. Dad joins us a heartbeat later.
My relief is immense.
But we aren’t safe yet.
Some family members return fire.
Down the street to my left, in the parking lot, is Dad’s car. Cassidy and her mom made it to theirs.
“Where’s Vince?” asks Dad, but I can tell in his voice he already knows.
The dark shape we saw fall.
Hatred fills Dad’s features, and he pulls a gun from a holster on his hip. He takes a step toward the alley.
I glance at Luke.
We each grab one of Dad’s arms. He fights us, but we manage to hold him still. I’m glad he’s still weak, as we manage to overpower him.
“Dad, stop!” I shout.
“Get off me!”
“It’s too late!” shouts Luke. “They’ll kill you, too. Please!”
He stares at us for a second.
“Killing yourself won’t do anything,” I say. “If you want revenge, you need to be smart. Make them pay some other way.”
It’s the only thing I can think of to say that’ll make him stop.
He nods. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
He’s being really scary. He just, like, switched. From furious enough to murder, to cool and collected, all in a heartbeat.
How can he do that?
If it was Luke in the alley, then, well, I don’t know what I’d do.
The gunfire has stopped.
Keeping our heads low, we run over to the parking lot.
I get into the back seat, and Luke climbs into the passenger side. Dad steps on the gas, and we speed out of the lot. I glance at the burning bar, and feel something I never have.
I hate the Donovans.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Vince’s funeral is one of the most elaborate spectacles I’ve ever seen.
I think he’d like it.
The service is taking place in this grand churchlike building. There’s a priest, apparently a high-ranking one, if clergy have ranks. He’s a big deal in the community, is what I mean. He greets the family before the service with a smile, like today was just another day.
At least his eulogy is good. It’s epic and sad.
I glance around. Maybe a hundred people have shown up, and each one is wearing beautiful clothes. Which is good. If someone showed up in jeans I might’ve lost it.
It’s about respect.
To my left is my aunt Sara and her two daughters. She’s a widow now, and my cousins no longer have a father. All because of the Donovans.
I’ve never seen three people look more ruined.
I know my uncle was a torturer. He did unspeakable things and never really seemed to care about it. But looking at his grieving family, I know he didn’t deserve this.
I also can’t help but think how easily this could be Luke’s funeral.
Or Dad’s.
Or mine.
We three got lucky.
Vince, and others, didn’t.
There were numerous injuries from the fire, and two others died in the shooting. It’d be all over the news if our family didn’t have control over the local media. We’ve kept it quiet and explained the fire as the result of a gas leak. The bar burning down made headlines, but nobody knows what really happened.
People tell us we got lucky. But that’s the thing about luck. It runs out eventually.
If nothing changes, one day, maybe soon, I’ll be at one of these things for Luke or Dad.
Or they’ll be at mine.
* * *
I mean, some people are smiling and laughing and acting like this is just an ordinary gathering. Other people are inconsolable.
“There you are,” says a voice, and I turn.
Cassidy.
She sits down beside me. She’s wearing a black dress. Her makeup is perfect. Either it’s waterproof, because I’m pretty sure that’s a thing, or she never really cared about Vince. For some reason, that thought really bothers me.
“How are you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Shitty. How are you?”
“I don’t even know, to be honest. I don’t think it’s hit me yet.”
It’s a lie.
I’m angry.
I just don’t know how I feel about feeling that. It feels like the sort of thing I shouldn’t admit.
She nods. “Were you close?”
I don’t feel like lying.
“Not really. I guess it feels weird because now I’m never going to be.”
“I get that. Death is so hard because people are built to want what they can’t have. Now he’s always going to be the one who got away. Sorry if that’s weird to say, I’ve just been thinking about it a lot.”
I let that sink in for a second. It brings Jason to my thoughts. Even here.
What’s wrong with me?
“Hey, I was just wondering, did you talk to your dad?” she asks.
“About what?”
“My theory about the Friend Scheme.”
That feels like a lifetime ago.
“Oh, yeah. I did.”
“And?”
“He didn’t listen to me. You shouldn’t be offended; he never does.”
“Oh.” She frowns.
Now she knows I’m not worth her time. I’m never going to be in charge, and now that I’ve shown that I’m a dead end, she’s going to bail.
“I’m going to do a lap,” she says. “All right? And you should try the cookies over there, they’re weirdly good.”
“’Kay.”
She stands up and walks away.
I’m probably overreacting. It’s a funeral reception, everyone is acting weird, because we aren’t taught how we should act at one of these things. Cassidy isn’t going to drop me over this.
I pull my phone from my pocket. I turned it off during the service.
No new messages.
I squeeze my phone case for a second, so hard I’m worried the screen might crack, then put it back into my pocket.
* * *
After the reception, we all went to our place.
People are drinking, but nobody is having a good time. Obviously.
Barely anyone is even talking. What could we even talk about? Talking about anything else would be disrespectful, and I don’t think any of us need to vocalize just how awful this is.
Luke makes his way up to me.
He’s wobbling all over the place, and his eyes are red.
He collapses onto me. I’ve never seen him this drunk. He stinks like bourbon.
“So this girl—I know it’s not Cass,” he says. “Is she hot?”
His face is so dazed it’s like he isn’t even listening.
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s smoking.”
“Show me pics.”
“Dude, no.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
He leans in close. “What are you hiding?”
“I…”
“You think I don’t know,” he says. “But I do. I’ve known the whole time.”
“Known what?”
He closes his eyes, for like a few seconds. Then he finally opens them.
“What?” he asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re drunk.”
He raises a finger to his lip. Like this is a secret, not the most obvious thing on the planet. I do think, though: What does he think he knows?
Dad makes his way up to us.
“Can you two fetch a wineglass for everyone?” he asks. “We’re having a meeting.”
Luke does a very wonky salute. “Yes, sir!”
Dad turns to me. “How much has he had?”
“I’m guessing a lot.”
“I’m not drunk, you two are drunk.”
“Christ. Luke, go sleep this off. Matt, set the table.”
Luke is now leaning most of his weight against me. He’s really heavy.
“Sure,” I say.
I help Luke to his room. Eddie trots after us.
“Sorry,” says Luke. “I’m such a mess.”
“Just don’t throw up on me.”
We reach Luke’s room. He takes off his jacket and throws it onto the floor. Then he walks around and collapses onto his bed.
“Would you say I’m a good brother?” he asks. “I try, you know.”
“The best. Now lie still.”
I grab his trash can, take the lid off it, and then put it beside his bed. Last, I fetch him a glass of water. When I get back to his room, he’s passed out, with his arm around Eddie, who looks up at me, like: I’ve got this.
“Good boy,” I say.
I leave Luke’s room and then set about putting wineglasses on the table.
Dad’s got a few expensive bottles of white in the fridge, so I bring those out, too. When I’m done, people start taking their seats. It’s only the adults, though, along with Vince’s daughters, because nobody is going to tell them what they can and can’t do right now. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to join or not.
“Did you get one for yourself?” asks Dad.
I hadn’t.
I go back and fetch myself a wineglass.
And I join the table. Sara pours. I take a sip, and it’s actually nice. It’s rich and tastes decadent.
Maybe I can get used to this.
I do hate the Donovans now.
And this is what my life is. There’s no escaping it. I may as well just get on board.
Sara is here, along with her two daughters. Vince’s usual seat, next to her, is empty. I guess everyone thinks sitting in it would be too weird. Becca, his oldest daughter, is holding his switchblade. I wonder if that means she’s taken up his mantle. That’s a fucking terrifying thought.
“Now,” says Dad, and everyone falls silent. “Has everyone got a drink?”
I’m surprised Dad’s not making me pour wine for everyone. A bottle is passed around, and the few people who don’t have wine fill their glasses. Becca tries to pour herself one, but Sara shuts that down.
“Where’s Luke?” she asks as she passes the wine bottle down the table.
“He had a little too much.”
“A little,” says Tony. “The boy was staggering all over the place.”
Cruel laughter breaks out.
“Shut up,” I say.
Everyone turns to watch me.
“Don’t talk about my brother like that,” I say. “Have some respect.”
It’s so quiet. But then Dad smiles.
“Well, look at you,” says Tony. “Finally grown a pair, eh?”
“Bigger than yours.”
Tony’s eyes widen, but he, too, is smiling.
Everyone seems to be on board with this new version of me. If I ever wanted it, in this moment, I have that ever-elusive thing.
The respect of my family.
“Enough,” says Dad. “We have a lot to discuss. This war needs to stop. If we had done what I suggested, my brother would still be alive and our allies wouldn’t have been burned. Jimmy’s has been in business since the thirties, and they took that from us, too.”
Oh no.
I have an idea about Dad’s plan.
Vince was one of the very few people who wanted to do it back when it was first brought up. But now Vince is dead.
Things are different.
The family will greenlight now. For him.
And if I know it, I’m sure Dad figured it out ages ago.
“I suggest we go through with my original
plan,” says Dad.
No, I think. This can’t be happening.
I hate the Donovans … but this is mass murder.
“I suggest once again to call a peace meeting and then eliminate any Donovan who shows up. All opposed, raise your hands now.”
I am opposed.
Obviously.
But nobody else is responding. Grandma is still, her expression hard to read. So I keep my hand down.
“Good,” says Dad. “All those in favor?”
Grandma raises her hand, then every single hand in the room but mine raises.
We can’t do this.
It’s evil.
Still, I know I have no choice, and I know it doesn’t really matter. It’s clearly going ahead no matter which way I vote.
So I raise my hand.
Dad’s lips twitch up into a small smile. “Good, it’s settled, then.”
I hope I find a way to forgive myself for this.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The meeting is happening this weekend.
The school bell rings. I’m in final period, calc, but I’ve spent the entire class staring out the window, thinking about the meeting. Dad has hired contract killers. Every Miller who goes to the meeting is supposed to be armed, too.
Even though this is a double cross, Dad’s expecting a firefight. One last battle for the city.
I’m expected to go.
I pack up my books and head to my locker.
I’m feeling mostly like myself again. I still hate the Donovans, but …
I don’t want them all to die.
I need to find a way to stop the meeting. To make Dad, and the rest of my family, see reason.
That feels impossible. I’m just one guy. And what I’m going up against is massive. I need to stop the wheels turning on a business that has successfully run the underbelly of this city for decades. It’s something not even a well-equipped police force with heaps of funding has been able to do.
I head out to my car and drive home.
When I get there, I go straight to my room. I toss my backpack onto the ground and then fall onto my bed. I try to zone out my thoughts with an episode of My Favorite Murder, but it doesn’t work.
I can’t just sit by and let my family do something I know in my gut is wrong.
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