I cross the living room so quickly Cargill can barely draw breath. When he opens his mouth to speak, I shove the cocked .38 between his lips, pushing his tongue back and making him gag. “My father was ten times the man your father ever was,” I say. I’m furious, the howler monkeys going full tilt in my head. Cargill’s eyes nearly cross as he tries to look at the gun in his mouth. He makes some sort of garbled plea. I want to pull the trigger and paint the wall with his brains, see his blood spatter across the wood paneling. Do it, a voice whispers.

I yank the .38 out of his mouth, nearly taking one of Cargill’s teeth with it. Cargill moans and drops to his knees on the carpet. My hand holding the .38 is shaking, and with effort I still it. I lean down to whisper into Cargill’s ear. “You weren’t going to show me any mercy in that warehouse. I just did you a favor. Remember that. And don’t ever cross my uncle again.” With that, I turn my back on Cargill and walk away, leaving him blubbering on his living room carpet.

THE WEEKEND AFTER I get out of the hospital, Ethan has a barbecue. Initially it’s just the five of us—me, Ethan, Frankie, Caesar, and Uncle Gavin. But Uncle Gavin shows up at Ethan’s house with Johnny Shaw, and to my surprise they are both driven by Gus, who is standing outside by the car and gives me a big, ugly smile when he sees me. Turns out five days is about all of Alice that Gus can stand. “She’s my sister, and I love her,” he says. “But she’s a lot, you know?”

“She’s awesome,” I say, “but I get it. I’m kind of a lot, too.”

“Kind of?” Ethan says. He’s standing at the front door wearing an apron that says WINE TIME.

I stick my tongue out at Ethan. “Come on in,” I say to Gus. “Grab a plate.”

“Absolutely,” Ethan says.

Gus shrugs. “I’ll eat anytime.” He lumbers up the front walk and squeezes inside. I follow to find Ethan and Caesar in the kitchen, discussing dry rubs versus marinades, while Frankie is ignoring them and shaking something over a platter of steaks. “Seasoned salt and pepper,” he announces. “My own private recipe I got from Papá.”

“Ruben always knew how to grill a steak,” Uncle Gavin says. He’s sitting in Ethan’s usual chair, hands planted on his knees as if he’s on the verge of getting up and leaving.

“He was a good man,” Johnny Shaw says from his chair opposite Uncle Gavin. Behind him stands Gus, who pretends to fade into the background. He’s about an inconspicuous as a Great Dane in a wading pool.