At the end of the day this would be my burden and my burden alone to bear.
The doors opened to the clubhouse conference room just after twelve-thirty in the afternoon, and in walked the fucking Prez. Talking on his cell phone, not paying any mind to where he was and what was going on around him, until he abruptly stopped. His boots crossing the threshold, seeing it was just me filling the large space between us.
Sitting at the head of the table.
In his fucking seat.
He quickly ended his call, narrowing his eyes at me, questioning, “The fuck is goin’ on?”
I nodded to the seat on the other end of the rectangular table, ordering him to sit down. He understood my silent demand, closing the door behind him. Cautiously stepping further into the room to take a seat. Each of his steps were cool and calculated, heading straight for the chair that was parallel to mine. His eyes never wavered from my stare as he sat down like he was told.
I was shocked by the fact that he actually listened. Grabbing the gavel, I hit the table three times, announcing church was now in session.
“You scared?”
“Of you?” he challenged, grinning.
“Of the fuckin’ truth.”
“What truth would that be, son?”
“The truth of how fucked up you really are.”
He maliciously smiled, arching an eyebrow. “Like father, like son.”
Slowly and deliberately, I shook my head no. “I ain’t anythin’ like you, motherfucker.”
He leaned back into his chair, placing his boots up on the wood table with a loud, hard thud. “That what you think? You’re exactly like me. You kill for what you believe in. You protect what’s fuckin’ yours. You take shit from no one, includin’ me. You’re a fuckin’ Jameson, through and fuckin’ through.”
“Is that right?” I countered, nodding my head.
“Fuck yeah it is.”
I didn’t waver, demanding, “We need to have a word.” I never took my eyes off of him as I grabbed the files that were sitting on my lap. His eyes immediately went to the manila folders in my grasp. “You want ‘em?” I taunted, holding them up in the air. “Or should I make you fuckin’ beg for them.”
“Fuck you! I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to pull, but how ‘bout you cut the pussyfootin’ bullshit, and just tell me why the fuck I’m here.”
I dropped the folders on the table, sliding them across the polished surface. They stopped right in front of him. “I ain’t got a fuckin’ death wish like you do.”
He jerked back, confused by my declaration. Waiting a few seconds before opening the first file. The one I placed right on top, just for him.
“I gotta know. Did ya really think I wouldn’t have figured it out? I just wanna know how fuckin’ stupid you really think I am?”
His eyes were glued to the first photo. The realization of what I knew immediately seized over his face. “Where ya get this?” he asked, looking me dead in the eyes.
“In your extensive music collection. Never thought you were the classical music type, Pops.”
“Creed, it ain’t what it fuckin’ looks like.”
“A picture is worth a thousand words, so are all those fuckin’ documents. So, I’m gonna ask you again... did ya think I wouldn’t have fuckin’ figured it out? But by all means, keep goin’, Prez, there’s a ton of incriminatin’ evidence, exactly like the contents of that folder. The last envelope, though... that’s the one that really fucks with me.”
He took in my words, slowly spreading the photos and documents out on the table in front of him. Taking in each and every picture with no remorse or guilt present on his face. I sat back, watching, waiting for a reaction, even though I shouldn’t have. I knew he was a heartless bastard, a fucking prick, but I slightly hoped that maybe somewhere deep inside of him, there truly was a man with an underlying conscience.
His face stayed stagnant, proving my suspicions. He really was just a fucking monster.
He grabbed the last document with a photograph clipped to it, the one I had been losing sleep over. The one photo that Martinez really wanted me to have was the one I’d been waiting for my old man to see.
The same one I wanted to fucking kill him for.
“How long?”
He peered up at me through the slits of his eyes, conscious of the fact that he finally had been caught. His moment of truth, probably the first one in his miserable fucking life. There were no more bullshit lies he could spew, the truth was held blatantly in his goddamn hand for me to see.
Angling his chin up in defiance, he snarled, “From the moment she came runnin’ into her momma’s restaurant, wearin’ pigtails and a fuckin’ pink baby doll dress.”
“You sick fuck!” I slammed my fists on the hard wood, sending my chair flying out from under my body. It took everything in me to restrain the urge to take him the fuck out, right then and there.
He chuckled, eyeing me up and down. “I get a lot more money for little girls than I do for women. She was such a cute fuckin’ baby girl. You would know, Creed, she’s been followin’ you around since the day I wanted to fuckin’ take her. Do you remember that day? You were standin’ out front with her. If it wasn’t for her overprotective fuckin’ father, it would have been done already. It didn’t help that her uncle is the fuckin’ detective that’s been on our ass for years.” He shrugged, throwing the document and photo back on the table. “So, I had to let it go. Until the moment she stepped foot on this compound and spread her legs for your fuckin’ brother. Comin’ back six weeks later sayin’ she was knocked the fuck up. She’s nothin’ but a two-bit fuckin’ whore! I bet you it wasn’t even his fuckin’ kid. But...” He deviously smiled, big and wide. “A pretty young girl and a newborn baby,” he paused, shaking his head, “now, that’s some serious fuckin’ bank.”
“You motherf—”
He pounded his hand on the table, standing. Pointing at me. “I was doin’ it for you! And for your fuckin’ brother! Look what she’s done to you! To the both of you! Makin’ you lose sight of what is really fuckin’ important! This goddamn club!” he roared, walking over to me. Getting right up in my face. “What was next, huh?! You tell me that your leavin’, too? Turnin’ your back on your brothers?! On your fuckin’ colors?! Goin’ to make a nice life for yourself? Get a house with a fence and a fuckin’ dog?! How was that goin’ to work, huh? You get to fuck her on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and your baby brother gets her all the other days?”
I lunged at him, grabbing him by the throat. Slamming his back into the wall as hard as I could. Knocking the wind out of him, causing a loud gasp of air to escape his mouth.
“How many girls, you piece of shit?! How many fuckin’ girls have you trafficked?!” I let go of his throat just enough to where he could speak.