Mickey - The View From Here - Gallavich

Reality Check

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, AND THEMES OF VIOLENT HOMOPHOBIA. LET'S CALL THESE TERRY CHAPTERS. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

I had the next day off, so my dad decided I would come with him and a couple of my brothers on a job. My family’s business dealings were by far not legal. The jobs were always sketchy, so, it wasn’t unusual that I didn’t ask any questions about the job. The less I knew the better. I would do my part, take my cut, move on.

We arrived downtown in the afternoon, parking in front of a gay nightclub.

Don’t ask questions, I reminded myself. Just do the job.

I didn’t know what the job was yet. My work included a lot of roles. I could be a drug or gun dealer. I could be muscle. I could shoot. I could be the ringleader of my brothers in my father’s absence.

At the moment, it seemed we were debt collectors.

Suffice to say I didn’t feel comfortable at all in that nightclub. No one was there because it was still daytime, yet it felt overwhelming, like the walls knew my secret.

Glancing around, I wondered what it looked like at night, when the club came alive.
I imagined the scene in my mind and pasted myself into it. Then I pasted Ian into it and he fit. I, of course, didn’t. No matter. I was used to not fitting in.

Silently, I promised myself I would bring Ian here one day. He seemed like the type to enjoy a club night now and again. He would have fun and perhaps I could too.

While my brother, Iggy waited in the car, my other brother, Joey and I stood outside of the club owner's office. We were waiting patiently for my dad to do his thing when the club owner invited us into his office.

My dad sat by the owner’s desk, sneering.

“Your father said he needed his medication,” the club owner, a skinny, beautifully effeminate man told me. He was genuinely concerned about Terry, who had most likely threatened him only minutes ago. “He said one of you has it.”

I nodded that I understood, rolled up my sleeves, and clocked the man in the face. The whole medication thing was just a way my dad convinced someone to be alone in a room with three of the Milkoviches.

The man fell to the floor, his nose bleeding from my punch.

I didn’t enjoy this, okay? I only enjoyed beating people up if they deserved it. This guy, who probably only owed some money, didn’t seem to deserve this.

It’s your job. It’s your family.

I kicked the club owner in the stomach, my brother joining me until we were stomping our boots down on him. My father approached to gloat over the man, cackling before he had a bout of coughing that made me wonder if he was dying.

“I gave you the money!” the club owner cried out in confusion and agony.

This gave me pause.

My father glared at me. “I didn’t say stop.”

“If he paid you—”

Terry only raised a brow and I shut my mouth, proceeding to beat the club owner until my father said I could stop.

On the car ride home, Terry pulled into an abandoned lot and killed the engine. “Get out,” he said.

My brothers and I all went to do as he asked.

“Not all of you. Dipshits,” he growled before locking his gaze with mine in the rear-view mirror. “You.”

Reluctantly, I got out, already knowing what was coming.

Terry got out of the car, walked up to me, and backhanded me across the face. He grabbed me by the collar and sent his closed fist into my jaw.

Against my wishes, my knees buckled and I landed on my ass. Soon, my father was on top of me with his hands around my neck.

Vicious, he asked me, “since when do you second-guess me on a job? You don’t speak unless I tell you to speak. You don’t stop unless I tell you to stop. Do you understand? Or is your tiny brain incapable of one fucking task?” He smacked me in the head to emphasize his point. “You stupid fuck. You’ve been a pussy ever since you got out of the joint. You turn into one of those fuckers like at that club? Huh?” He smacked me again, over and over, hauling homophobic slurs at me.

Grabbing my jaw in his clutches, he informed me, “not in my house. Not in my family. If you embarrass me like that again, or if I find out you’re doing something you aren’t supposed to, I’ll shoot you in the fucking head.”

During the rest of the ride home, I realized that my dad had smacked some sense into me. That club, that life, being in a relationship were all things that were never meant for me. Some people were fortunate and could be themselves. Some people couldn’t, people like Terry made sure of it.

It was no mystery to me why my father had me beat that man. Terry was warning me. He knew. Or at least he had an inkling about me.

He was right. I had grown soft since I got out of prison. I had let myself get distracted, neglecting the effort I usually put into making money and keeping my sex life private. I forgot how much effort it took sometimes.

Ian would be able to go to that club. For all I knew, he’d already been. That was something he had yet to understand. No one cared if he was gay. Me being bisexual was a big deal in my house. I had needs, so I had Ian, but it was clearer than ever that we needed to be careful to keep what we had a secret.