And don’t protect her.
“This is about Maggie, isn’t it?”
I huff. “No. To be honest, I wasn’t even thinking about Maggie right now. But since you brought her up, you have to admit, there is no future in which Indie acts like the mother that Maggie needs. She can’t even take care of herself, let alone a child. And Nathan. Don’t get me started on Nathan. He’s Team Indie. He tried to get away and he got pulled back in. He’s here for good now, McKay. And he’s not here for Maggie. They’re just… not meant to be parents.”
McKay raises one eyebrow. “But you are?”
I exhale in frustration. Because no. As much I like to think of myself as Maggie’s father, I’m never gonna be the kind of man who wins that Father of the Year award. I can’t quite grasp what fathers do.
This is not a joke, either. This is a serious puzzle for me. If I’m not supposed to tell her secrets, ask her for advice, or teach her to protect herself in all possible ways—what the actual fuck do fathers do?
Breakfast and bedtime stories?
Check homework?
Bandage booboos?
Do we get a hobby or something? We already fish.
All these things, these are what McKay does. Not me. I mean what is the fuckin’ point of having a kid if you’re not allowed to tell her secrets, ask her for advice, and teach her to protect herself?
I don’t get it.
But I’m not ready to admit this to McKay. “I get it. I’m no parenting expert. And I’m not doing that bad of a job. She’s nothing like Indie and at least I didn’t buy her.”
McKay holds up a hand. “So let me get this straight. You regret buying a little Company girl and turning her into a killer. But somehow you think that because you didn’t… buy Maggie, she’s… different? It’s the exact same thing, Adam.”
“It’s not even close.”
“She pulled the trigger, Adam!” McKay is actually laughing at me. “She shot Donovan in the back of the head. Where did she learn to shoot?”
“I never taught her how to shoot, McKay. She’s too small for the kickback.”
“Do you even hear yourself? And that’s even worse. You didn’t teach her how to shoot, but she picks up a gun, in the dead of night, shoots one bullet, and ends up hitting somebody in the back of the head like magic.”
“It was a dart.”
“It doesn’t matter what it was, Adam. She hit him. Don’t you see? You’ve already traded Indie in for a newer model.”
I walk over to the bar, reach for a bottle of Johnny Walker Platinum on the top shelf and I’m just about to pour when McKay puts his hand over the glass. “I don’t blame you.”
“For what?” I ask. “Buying her?”
“No. For hating her.” I look up at him, ready to deny it, but he shakes his head. “You have every right to hate her. You have every right to cut her loose. But I’m asking you not to. Not yet. I’m just asking you to give it a little more time.”
“How much time? I don’t think I can do this anymore, McKay. I need something to look forward to because right now my life feels like one long, eternal sentence in hell.”
“Just let Merc do his thing. We set it all up, Adam. We can’t back down now.”
“And then what? What happens if it works? What happens if it doesn’t?”
He doesn’t know so he can’t answer.
So I answer for him. “Let me tell you what happens if it works, OK? We stay at Old Home. I do what I do, you do what you do, Indie and Nate get weirder and weirder—” He opens his mouth to object, but I point at him. “You know it’s happening, don’t tell me you don’t.”
He shrugs. Accepts what I say is true—because it is.
“If it works, things go back to the way we’ve been doing them. I send assassins out to clean up old-school Company assholes who don’t know the fuckin’ war is over yet. Nick Tate keeps killing little blonde girls. But they keep coming. There are always more bankers, and car dealers, and real estate agents, and little blonde girls. And you spend the rest of your life putting Indie first and holding down the Old Home fort. No end in sight. And if it doesn’t work, we end him and his fucked-up second personality. Indie hates us. Goes on some rampage for another four years killing and doing God knows what. Takes Nathan along for the ride—probably Maggie too. And then we’re right back where we started from. Only worse. Because we won’t be in a position to stop it at that point. We’ll be slaves, McKay. Slaves to the Company.” I actually laugh here. “No, that’s not right. We’ll actually come to the conclusion that we have always been slaves. Rich ones, for sure. But slaves nonetheless. At that point, well, there is no point. We’ll kill each other in some suicide pact and end it once and for all. Going out knowing that we gave up our one life for evil.”