Chapter 57
When he pulled up, I went to the window. He was outside the gate, his car parked right in front of my house. He smiled at me—that sweet grin and that cocky face like he was gonna fuck me. For a second, I almost ditched the whole plan and hopped in his car to head to that damn motel. I'd miss that cock I barely got to enjoy.
I was pissed at him, but deep down, I wasn't even sure I had the right to be that mad. Hell, I didn't know how to act anymore, hadn't even stopped to think if any of this was right. My dad just said:
"Go to the kitchen."
I barely sat down when he crossed the open door. The jerk walked in all smiles, but one look around and he was shaking like a leaf. He could tell right away the vibe in there wasn't good for him. He clutched his wallet and keys like they were lucky charms, still trying to play it cool. He hadn't noticed us in the kitchen yet.
"Have a seat, man," my dad ordered, his voice flat, without lifting a finger.
The guy let out a nervous laugh, tried a "good afternoon" that nobody answered, and sat down all hunched over. Then he looked toward the kitchen. Froze. Put his hand to his face, and his expression turned to pure panic. From happy to scared shitless in seconds.
"Son... which motel were you gonna take my daughter to?" my dad asked, straight up.
"N-no motel, sir..." he stammered.
"So my daughter lied?"
Silence. The jerk went quiet, not knowing where to look.
"You're not gonna answer, huh... I get it," my dad said, pausing long, almost poetic-like. He scratched his belly slow, and when the guy opened his mouth to try speaking, he cut him off again:
"And that other pretty girl over there?"
Mariana had her eyes and mouth wide open, stiff with tension. Diana was holding back tears, but you could see the anger in her—the lips trembling, about to break. Me, if I had to stand up and walk right then, I'd have face-planted on the floor.
Our boyfriend looked around like someone might pop up and save him from this mess. The only one who disapproved of the whole thing was my stepdad, shaking his head no—fucking coward.
The jerk tried to look at me, his eyes begging for help. But I stayed still, no expression. Inside, it was a mix of fear, nerves, and, hell if I know why, shame. Shame because my dad was right there, talking about motels, like I was still a virgin. Little did he know...
"You're not gonna answer?" my dad broke the silence, his voice heavy. "I'll help you: you were dating my daughter and that girl at the same time."
The old man's stare was like a knife.
"You know what happens to punks like you where I come from?"
The guy just nodded yes, not daring to open his mouth. And that was the smartest thing he could've done. If he let out one wrong word, my dad would've killed him right there. And I'm not exaggerating.
"And the girl's money?" my dad turned full mobster. "I want it now."
The guy sighed deep, trying to muster some courage.
"Look, sir... I don't have it right now." And he turned his begging eyes to Diana. "I told her I'd pay her on payday."
My dad didn't let up.
"Boy, guys like you got no word. You're a piece of shit, a dirty dog, a goddamn worm." His tone rose, sharp. He adjusted the gun at his waist, leaned forward on the edge of his chair, and said: "I want some guarantee from somebody or something, and I want it now. Or you leave here in a body bag, you piece of shit."
My mom, quiet till then, spoke up like she knew how to play along:
"Easy now, man. You're not gonna shoot somebody in my house, for God's sake. Cops can't come here, you hear?"
If I didn't know my mom, I'd swear she meant it. But nah. It was all theater. If my dad was Lampião, she was Maria Bonita. Just piling on the fear for the poor bastard.
"But... but, sir... I don't have..." the guy stammered, sweating bullets.
My dad stood up. Went to the window, took a look outside, and when he came back, he looked at me. Smiled. And it was that smile of his, the same sneaky son-of-a-bitch grin I'd inherited.
"Come here, kid."
"No, what, sir?"
"You come here. Be a man."
My dad grabbed him by the neck, but didn't even need to squeeze hard. The guy went limp and they both went out.
The three of us jumped up and ran to the window, but my mom shut it down quick:
"Sit your asses down. Everybody in the kitchen."
"He's not gonna kill him, right?" Diana asked, almost crying, her voice choked.
"No, I don't think so..." Mariana answered, like it was the most normal shit in the world.
The two of them stayed outside, in front of the house, for about ten minutes talking. I was biting my nails from nerves. Then, from the other window, I saw the guy pulling his car into my garage. My dad waited at the gate, arms crossed, watching him park like a warden watching a prisoner head back to his cell. When they finished, they came back in.
"Now, kid, ask forgiveness for disrespecting this house."
I thought that line was real interesting, symbolic in a way.
He went to my mom, head down, shaking like a leaf.
"Forgive me, ma'am..."
My mom let out a soft but clear "no."
"It's up to you, woman," my dad said, face stern.
"Ask forgiveness from Julia."
"I-I'm sorry, Jully..." he said, almost crying.
That's when my dad couldn't take it: he smacked the back of his head hard, quick, making us three scream in shock.
"Sorry my ass, you piece of shit! It's forgiveness. And to you it's Julia, you fucking lowlife!"
The guy hunched his shoulders, trying to shield from the next hit, and stammered facing me:
"F-forgiveness... forgiveness, Julia."
I stayed quiet. What I really wanted was for him to blow up. But the truth? After all that, if he wanted to take me to the motel, I would've gone. Fuck it, who's gonna judge me?
My dad pointed at Diana then.
"Forgiveness for her too."
"Forgiveness, Diana. I promise I won't do this to anyone else..."
"Now you can go, kid. Whenever you want, you know: just come in and get your car, no need to talk to anybody, the garage'll always be open, no lock even," his words froze everybody in the room. "We got a deal?"
"Yes, sir..." the guy answered, voice choked.
My dad leaned in a bit, eyes hard.
"I'll remind you, so there's no mix-up: I'm not Jully, I'm not Diana, nor the sluts you scam on the street. You can get your car anytime... but if you take it without settling with me, you know, right? I'll come after you. And it won't be to talk. Got it?"
"Got it, yes, sir."
"You can take your car keys."
The guy left without saying goodbye, head down, no guts to even look back. And when the door shut, the silence was broken only by our heavy breathing. The vibe of revenge done right started exploding inside, like lit gunpowder. When he crossed the gate, we were cheering and laughing like it was the end of the World Cup.
"Auntie, where's the champagne?" Mariana yelled, being a smartass.
"What champagne, Mariana! Cut the crap." My mom scolded, but laughing.
Diana hugged me and laughed loud, almost crying.
"God, I feel so washed clean! Serves that little shit right! I'm so happy... OH MY GOOOOD!!!! SCREEEAM!!!!!"
She even ran to hug my dad, who got all awkward, and the blonde squeezed him so hard she nearly crushed the poor guy.
But somebody wasn't satisfied: me.
"Dad, his car can't stay in our garage..." I let out that sneaky daughter-of-a-bitch laugh. "We ride bikes through there, always scraping stuff... it'll end up scratching his whole car."
My dad looked at me, serious, but then gave back the same cocky smile, just like mine.
"I want his car to fuck off. If it gets scratched, fuck it."
His look was the most son-of-a-bitch approval in the world.
"Mariana, Diana... let's go check something in the garage." I said, already grabbing a kitchen knife.
And off we went. Diana and I unloaded all our rage on the car's body, scratching it from end to end, no mercy. Mariana laughed, making a scene. It was the first time I saw real anger in Diana's eyes, each scratch like she was erasing his name from her life. But the fun didn't last long—even though she didn't live with us, the habit of yelling came from my dad.
"JULLY, THAT LITTLE SHIT GAVE ME HIS PHONE NUMBER BUT I FORGOT HIS NAME."
I laughed—my dad had a shitty memory.
"IT'S CLETUS, DAD!!!!!!"