I became a gangster's advisor

The screen door creaked behind me, unexpected and unwelcome. Boots struck the stairs instantly, and I locked my gaze on the sudsy water. “Go away,” I whispered.

“Janine,” Marcel’s bellowed, an acrid smoke proceeding him. “Janine, you’d best not have company. I didn’t appr…”

Silence was worse than his screaming concealing his mood and action. Unpredictable. I curled my fingers around plate until the edges strung. I breathed trying to calm myself and turned from the sink.

Marcel stood at the stairs, his fingers hooked in his suspenders as if they were all that held him up. And in the doorway was Sam. Sam!

His eyes flashed toward me, lips twisting in his old grin. A grin that was gone by the time his gaze returned to Marcel.

“Hello father.” He said. Stepping silently forward, he pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat, laying his hand on the table indifferently.

“Sam,” Marcel stammered. His hand plummeted to his side. “What… But how–”

Sam raised his hand. “How isn’t important. Just know I became a gangster’s advisor.”

“Not possible,” Marcel said. “You’re dead.”

“Anything is possible when you have enough money.” Sam said. “Isn’t that what you taught me?”

Sound tore through the kitchen, my screaming and the sound of the plate breaking as it hit the floor joining it.

Then silence.

A hand touched my shoulder. Sam stood before me, light trickling through him as he smiled. “Come mother.” He extended his hand.

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