We had around two leads over the last couple of days, and both of them have resulted in the same thing. Nothing!

I’m fucking getting fed up with it all, and I feel as if I should just let Valentino do exactly what he intends to do. Because I’m done. I’m here running around the city as if I know what I’m doing, but the truth of the matter is that I’m no closer to making a decision than I was when I first flew out here.

“Marco, what do you want to do?”

Rick, my PI asks as I can tell what’s going through his mind, even he’s encouraged me to get Dad and Valentino to sort it out. I’m trying to be the good guy, but I’m failing fucking miserably because it’s too fucking late. I should have done it years ago. Tried to leave the business, but I never did. Now that Silvia is dead, I want to be the good guy. It’s too fucking late. Dad is fucking right. I hate to admit it. But that’s the only explanation for the reason why I’m failing. “What do you think I should do Rick?”

He sighs. “You know that there’s only one road to go and that’s the one you’re avoiding, but you can’t fucking do it, Marco. Not now. You need help, and I’m just a one-man band. One that’s too old and tired for this shit.”

I point to him. “See you want out of it too.”

He signals at the bartender, ignoring my question. But as he takes off his cap and scratches his balding head, It’s clear he doesn’t want anything to do with the business. Let alone tracking Steven down. “You’re in over your head. First, you decide to take that girl to the island, then you want me to dig up shit on her. You didn’t even go over what I sent you. Did you?”

I shrug as I confess that I only paid attention to some parts, but not all of them.

“Drink up!” He points to the drink and then turns to face me. The bar is nearly empty. It’s at the back part of town. Only local construction workers mainly drink here, and it’s too early for them to be out drinking. But no doubt they’ll be turning up soon, which suits me fine, because I don’t like where this conversation’s heading. Not with Rick. Not now, especially with David not picking up his phone either.

I wonder if he’s gone and done something silly with Leah. Then again, the way I’m feeling right now. I don’t think that I fucking care. Maybe he’s doing me a favor. Doing something I’m too scared to do at the moment.

I take a swing of the drink and then tap it on the bar, thinking it’s touched the right nerves and settled me down a little, but not enough total on board whatever Rick has to say about the subject.

“You take Steven’s stepdaughter to the island, and then you want us to find the man himself. I don’t fucking—”

I hold up the once filled glass as the tender replaces it. “What did you say?”

He puts his hand on his hip and takes off his cap as he repeats, “Steven’s stepdaughter. She’s on the island with you.”

“Who?”

He rubs his head. “Leah. The one that work’s in the diner. The one with the crappy fake ID.”

I nearly choke as I say, “But you told me that she had a fake ID of Dana something. That was it. I don’t remember there being a conversation about her being Steven’s stepdaughter.”

He takes out his phone from his back pocket and then hands it to me.

Dana is some fake ID. Her real name’s Leah Hopes. But she’s Steven’s stepdaughter. She never changed her name. Be careful.

I look at my phone and realize that I fucking deleted it. I got the message and remember reading about the fake ID and then getting rid of the message. For some reason, I thought it said something else. Not what I’m reading now. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’d never made such a shit decision.

“Do you think that Steven sent her to me?”

Rick lifts up his glass and then hesitates for a minute and asks, “Who suggested you go away together?”

“I did,” I say as my mind starts to replay what happened not so long ago. Did I think of this as a good thing to do?

“Marco, the last few weeks have been a fucking living hell. I respect you. Worked for you for over a decade. But it’s clear that something’s not right. You’re investing in a business deal, that’s a fucking life sentence. If you don’t end up dead, then you’ll be ending up in prison. Was it because of this girl? Was that the reason you didn’t look at all of the reports? I just don’t fucking get it. But I’m not going to go down for this. It isn’t fucking worth it. Think about what I’ve said and then get back to me. When you come to your senses.”

I put down the drink next to his empty glass as his words sting my ears. I heard every word, but I’ve been ignoring them, as it’s clear that I haven’t been paying attention to anything.

He pats me on the back as he heads out of the door. He doesn’t wait for me to say a word. Not that there’s anything for me to say. I can’t reply in my defense because I know he’s right. I fucked up, and there’s a price to pay for it. One that I know I’m not going to like. Fuck, I really should have been paying attention.

I signal for the bartender to pass me another drink. I need to get the fuck out of here and go home. To my family home, a place I haven’t been to in a while, but this is way out of my control. I’m fucking kidding myself by saying I can handle it. I can’t fucking handle anything, not including my supposed clean life. One that I’m not going to live, no matter how hard I try.