The Cousins(47)

A persistent ringing wakes me up Saturday morning. My room is stuffy and hot, and I push aside the tangle of sheets weighing me down before reaching for the floor to pick up my phone. Efram is gone, probably working an early shift at the pool. I’m not due at The Sevens until noon, so even though it’s past ten I don’t need to get up for another hour. And wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for…Oh hell.

My dad. I want to let it go to voice mail, but I can’t. I know why he’s calling. “Hey, Dad,” I say, heaving myself into a sitting position. “How was bankruptcy court?”

“Postponed,” he says.

“Sorry, what?”

“Your mom and I need a little more time to finish the restructuring plan we’re proposing. So we asked the trustee for an extension until next week, and he said yes.”

“Okay,” I say cautiously. “Is that good or bad?”



“It’s good. Gives us a better shot at hanging on to Empire.”

Empire is Empire Billiards, named after my mother’s favorite movie, Empire Records. My parents bought it when I was too young to remember what life was like before Empire became the family business. My first memory of it is the two-year anniversary when I was five; my dad carried my mother through the door with me trailing behind, into what felt like the biggest party I’d ever seen. Even though, looking back on it more than ten years later, it was probably just our relatives, a few of the construction workers and plumbers who’d become Empire regulars, and a lot of balloons.

It didn’t matter. I loved that place. It felt magical to me; someplace where I could learn a new game and where grown-ups were always happy. It took a lot of years for me to recognize how much of that good mood came from the bottles behind the bar, and how many times the bartender, Enzo, diplomatically cut off regulars when they’d had too much. But nothing ever got out of hand at Empire. It was my dark, musty, sticky-floored second home.

“Jonah?” Dad’s voice yanks me back into the present. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” I say. “You said you’ll have a better shot at hanging on to Empire. But it’s not a sure thing, right?”

“None of this is for sure. We’re doing the best we can.”

I had prepared myself, when I worked the late shift at Empire the night before I left for Gull Cove, that it might be shut down by the time I got home. I thought I was ready. But every time one of my parents calls with an update, I get hit with the same stomach-curdling mix of resentment and anxiety. Nothing ever seems to get resolved; it’s always delays, and meetings with creditors, and a bunch of legal terms I don’t understand. It’s death by a thousand cuts, and even though I told my parents I wanted them to keep me in the loop, I’m starting to wish they’d spare me the details.



“But you’re still open, right?” I ask.

“We are,” Dad says. “We’ve been working on a few different ways to cut costs.” Something about the way he clears his throat makes me positive I’m not going to like whatever he says next. “We had to let Enzo go, unfortunately.”

I’ve never hated being right more. “Dad, come on!” I protest. Enzo’s been the bartender at Empire since it opened, and he’s the only guy there who can still beat me at pool. He’s also funny, loyal, and more like an uncle to me than a guy who works for my parents. “How can you fire Enzo? He’s an Empire institution! He works his ass off!” My voice sounds harsh and unfamiliar to my own ears, like I swallowed something sharp.

“He’s expensive, Jonah. Tough decisions have to be made.”

“He’s a person. You can’t put a dollar sign on him and be done with it!”

“If you think for one second—” Dad’s voice rises to match mine, and then he stops. Breathes in and out, composing himself. When he speaks again it’s in a tone that’s almost normal, except for the brittle edge. “If you think it didn’t break my heart, and your mother’s, to let Enzo go, you’re mistaken. We had no choice.”

You had a choice not to listen to Anders Story, I almost say, but stop myself just in time. It’s not like he doesn’t know that. “Okay, so…” I trail off as a loud rap sounds on my door. “Hang on, somebody’s knocking. Let me get rid of them and I’ll be back.”



“No, go ahead and get on with your day,” Dad says, sounding as relieved as I feel at the possibility of ending this call. “That’s all the information I have right now anyway.” He clears his throat again. “Maybe I’ll just text the next update.”

Shame at giving him a hard time stabs at my chest, but I have too much residual anger about Enzo to turn it into an apology. “That works,” I say, and disconnect. I let the phone drop onto my pillow with a frustrated grunt and shove my hands into my hair, tugging until it hurts. Another knock sounds at the door, louder than before.

“Coming,” I snap. “Hold your horses.” That’s an Enzo saying, one he’d always throw at me when I’d bug him to take a break and play pool with me. Hold your horses, kid. I have work to do. Goddamn it. If I keep thinking like this, I’m going to be useless all day. I force myself to take a couple of deep breaths, then stand and head for the door, running a hand over my disheveled hair when I catch sight of myself in the mirror over my dresser. Not that it matters. It’s probably Reid Chilton wanting to borrow toothpaste again.