If I Should Die

TWO

When I was ten, I wanted to kill my brother.

I pushed him off the roof because I caught him searching my room for money. I was half his size and five years younger. I may have been born with a vagina, but I’ve always had more balls than he ever did.

He only broke his arm. I went down to the front yard and broke his fingers for good measure. He’s lucky I didn’t cut off his hand like they do to thieves in some countries.

When I turned fifteen, my daddy’s best friend tried to force me to suck his dick. I shot him in the balls.

I don’t suck dicks.

Daddy took care of that problem. I didn’t kill the prick, but he’s dead.

Amen.

Before he got himself killed, Daddy always warned me that my temper would get me in trouble. I listened. Common sense taught me I had to control the Amazon inside. Can’t push my brother off the roof because he’s family, and blood is all we can count on. Can’t shoot someone in the balls because it’s messy, and messes are hard to clean up.

I hate messes. Yet time and time again, I’m forced to clean up other people’s shit. I never forget who created the problem in the first place. The threat of punishment keeps people in line. Revenge is a dish best served cold? I say revenge tastes good any way you can get it.

My oldest brother calls me a monster, but I prefer Amazon. A mythological race of warrior women stronger, better, smarter than everyone else. And my temper has served me well, when necessary. No one screws with me, that’s for sure.

Returning to Spruce Lake after all these years was the last thing I wanted to do. It felt like being kicked back to the street turning tricks as a twenty-dollar whore after pulling in two hundred bucks an hour as a call girl. The saying that when you want something done right, do it yourself pounded in my head, taunting me. If I’d just had the damn Hendrickson property burned to the ground last year, I’d never have to step foot in St. Lawrence County again.

Yet here I was. Waiting at the curb of the tiny airport for my driver, who was late.

It wasn’t that there was anything particularly wrong with my hometown, other than I hated every square mile of the pit, but I’d grown into a city girl with city girl instincts. If Spruce Lake wasn’t essential, I would have simply ignored the situation and let the good old boys handle the problem, not caring whether they got themselves arrested or killed. But not only was that wretched piece of mountain important for my business, it was critical at this point in time.

My reluctance to return was somewhat due to some old grievances related to my last visit. But when had I ever let a threat stop me? I would face any problems head-on, like I did everything else in life.

If I hadn’t left Spruce Lake, I would never have met my husband, now deceased and burning in Hell, thanks to me. I used everything Herve taught me, used everything he had—his knowledge, his money, his life.

If I hadn’t left, I would never have learned more than my brother about the business. I wouldn’t be feared and worshipped, and I would never have the power to run such a vast operation from afar.

But part of leadership was punishing the weak, and my people were acting like a bunch of fucking hillbillies. I didn’t even want to take ownership of the motley crew. Not a clearheaded, forward-thinking brain among any of them.

Maybe I didn’t hate my hometown, I’d just out-grown it. I would have been happy to have a house here to relax and keep my eyes on things, but business in the city was too intense. And about to get busier.

If only I could put an end to that resort. If I could control the damage from the arson fire. If only the Hendricksons had postponed their plans until next summer, I wouldn’t have to resort to any extreme measures.

Another thing my daddy always told me: avoid murder unless there’s no other choice. I haven’t always followed that advice, but I always had a reason to kill, damn straight.

My ride finally drove up, thirteen minutes late. I probably wouldn’t have shot him if he were later. It would have been just one more mess to clean up.

But he didn’t have to know that. Fear would keep him in line.