Guns, Not Roses

~Chapter Twenty: The Devil Wears Charcoal-Grey Suits~

A slow smile spread across Berry’s face. “Then why don’t you, boy? Go ahead.” He patted his chest. “I’m right here.”

Anthony regarded him – the neatly-cut salt-and-pepper hair, the charcoal-grey suit in this heat, and the glacial blue eyes, much like his own – and wanted to inflict on him the same abuse he’d endured at his hand.

But now was not the time. No, he knew that he’d be seeing Berry Dekker again, now that he knew exactly what he looked like; now that he knew that he was the same bastard he’d been the last time they’d seen each other.

“Bullets would be a blessing,” he said quietly, bending down and gathering his bags. He straightened and glanced at his father. “I want you to suffer. Dad,” he added as an afterthought, although this man was not his ‘dad’.

Berry ignored the threat. “I’ve always been watching over you, Anthony. Always. It’s my business to know your business. And I am deeply ashamed.”

“And I deeply care,” Tony spat. “Go back to your mission work. Leave me the hell alone.”

“It’s not too late for your soul to be saved.”

Tony snorted. “My soul? Worry about yourself, old man.”

And he slid the card in and exited the room, slamming it, and his dark memories, shut behind him.

***

The door was banged open with a force that startled Savannah out of her meditation. Sitting among the pouffes and cushions Buddha-style, she saw Tony’s shadow stalk past the doorway, bags in hand. She instantly sensed that something was off. Left to her own devices the entire day, she’d thought she’d go crazy, but the exact opposite had occurred – she’d become sane and serene.

Meditation certainly had its perks. Savannah had been able to release the pent-up rage she’d felt towards Anthony Dekker, her father, and whoever had wanted her dead. Anger was nothing more than a festering disease that could consume oneself. It did nothing positive, and only made you waste precious moments. Savannah had no idea what Tony was going to do with her, but for now, she didn’t really care. She hated to admit it, but she hadn’t been this happy in… years.

Unfurling her legs and standing up, she stretched for a minute and then went up the stairs to the master bedroom, intent on hearing a human voice. It had been a long day of silence, save for nature’s noises outside.

Tony was spilling clothing out onto his bed, most of it women’s wear. Back turned to her, she could see the tense muscles through his T-shirt.

“What happened?” Savannah’s voice seemed loud in the echoing silence.

When he didn’t answer her, she tiptoed into the room, closing the door behind her, which was silly, as they were the only ones in the house.

Anthony flinched when her hand touched his shoulder. Spinning around, the look on his face visibly sent shivers down her spine. He’d scared her.

“This is all for you. I apologise if our tastes differ,” he said brusquely, stepping aside so she could look at the clothing he’d spent all day picking out for her.

“Who cares about fucking dresses? Something’s bothering you, Tony.” She fought the urge to reach out and touch him again. “For Pete’s sake, don’t pretend with me.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair and gazed down at her. “Savannah, could we please skip this? I’m starving, and I know you haven’t made dinner.” He pushed past her.

“Don’t you want to know what I was up to while you went on your little shopping expedition?” Savannah sang from behind him, watching his retreating back as she padded behind him.