by Aiden Bates
Despite an entire multi-course meal to plan and cook, several trips to Whole Foods to make, a daughter to wrangle, a father to appease, and a full day of work to do, for the entire day I had car crashes on my mind.
“This bacon Waldorf is surprisingly good, Daniel.” My father was already a glass of wine in by the time we made it to the salad course. As far as I could tell, he was none the wiser that the house was bugged. He had no reason to be, I supposed. I just hoped that it would stay that way. “It would be a smash at my next fundraiser dinner if you wanted to bring it around.”
Smash. The shattered front windshield of my Omega father’s car, spiderwebbed and splattered with blood.
“Nothing your Alpha buddies like more than the idea of an Omega who can cook, I suppose.” I pushed my own salad around with the back of my fork. I guessed Lissa and Rusty weren’t the only ones who did that after all.
“Oh, salad isn’t cooking, son. Don’t get ahead of yourself now.” My father patted his lips with his napkin, eyes flitting toward the kitchen hungrily. He was always hungry. “Now, if you have something special planned for the main, on the other hand…”
“Roasted chicken thighs in a rosemary wine sauce with crushed potatoes.” I’d have to go pull it out of the oven any minute now.
Crushed. The front end of the car, completely crumpled in on itself like a beer can beneath a steel toed boot.
“Ah. Now we’re talking. Tell you what, son, if word gets out that you know your way around a nice cut of meat…” My father chuckled to himself in a way that felt inappropriate with Lissa at the table. I had to resist the urge to cover her ears. “Don’t you worry, Daniel. We’ll get you set up with a new boyfriend soon enough. This single dad thing was hard enough on me as an Alpha. You being an Omega and all… I think it’s high time we got another man in the house. Find a new Daddy to spoil little Lissa here and let you put your feet up for a little while. Too much work on your plate, and one of these days you’re gonna crack.”
Crack. The jaws of life the firefighters had to use to extract my Omega father from his vehicle. Not his body—his corpse.
“I don’t want a new Daddy…” Lissa looked at me, eyes brimming with worry.
“Grandpa’s not being serious,” I said quickly. I reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “You don’t have to worry. He’s just…joking around.”
“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” Lissa grumbled. She pulled her hand away and glared at the special salad I’d made for her. Waldorf salads were my father’s favorite, but not exactly on Lissa’s list of edible foodstuffs. Instead, I’d given her some greens, carrots and tomatoes. She’d immediately drowned them in Ranch.
“Oh, don’t pout over dinner, Lissa. That’s not very becoming of a pretty young lady like yourself.” Dad clicked his tongue at her, but then his lips broke into a smile. “I know what will cheer you up. Be right back.”
Dad put his napkin down and stepped out of the kitchen into the foyer. When he returned, he had a big pink box with him, wrapped up with an elaborate arrangement of ribbons and a huge, ornate bow.
Lissa glanced between me and the present with suspicion. I’d tried to get her excited for the dinner by reminding her that Grandpa usually brought presents when he visited. The only way he knew how to hug people was with money, after all. For a little while, the promise of a new toy had almost worked. But pink wasn’t exactly her color. Lissa much preferred green, or better yet, an explosion of rainbows.
Dad pushed the box toward her across the table anyway.
“Go on,” he urged her. “It’s not going to open itself.”
My Omega father’s funeral had been a closed casket. The last time I saw his face was when he was storming out the door, keys in hand.
Lissa opened the box with care. As she extracted the item within—a massive, glass-eyed porcelain princess doll—she was pulling her infamous ick face again.
“Um.” Lissa looked to me, obviously uncomfortable. She knew better than to tell my dad that she didn’t like it. Of course, he had no way of knowing that she was the furthest thing from a princess girl. But she also hadn’t entirely worked out how to lie yet. The Rasner family genes had failed in us both on that front.
“She loves it, Dad. Thank you so much.” I nodded at Lissa. “Why don’t you tell Grandpa, ‘thank you,’ then go put the doll up in your room?” That would give me time to push Dad toward the kind of questions that might lead to another break for Rusty’s case.
“Um. Thanks.” She said the word like it left the taste of worms in her mouth, then popped up and dragged the doll off my its limp, jointed wrist.
“Did I do something wrong?” Dad looked like he could hardly handle the mere thought.
“Not at all. She’s just…tired.” I gathered up the ribbons and tissue paper and moved the box off the table. “School takes a lot out of her.”
“It’s that attention deficit disease,” Dad said with a grumble. “Probably got it from that no-good Alpha father of hers. You know, Daniel—”
He was cut off by a knock at the door. I froze.
It was seven in the evening. We’d never had visitors at this hour before. Who could that possibly be?
“Ah…maybe the mailman delivered something to the neighbors by mistake?” I moved to rise, but Dad stopped me.
“No, it’s fine. Just my security team. I’ll go get it.”
“Security team?” This was the first I was hearing about a security team being along for dinner. I didn’t know whether I should be annoyed or try to set some extra places.
But Dad waved my concern away as he moved for the door. “It’s just standard procedure. They should have carried this out earlier today, but we had protesters outside of my office again.” He rolled his eyes and laughed as if to say, those crazy kids. As if any protesters who showed up outside Congressman Rasner’s place of work were just troublemakers, not Omegas whose lives he was constantly on the verge of threatening with his shitty policies. “Didn’t want to push dinner late. You know how I feel about tardiness.”
Incredible, that my father could hold punctuality in such high esteem while he treated the lives of his constituents like garbage. The mental gymnastics he had to do just upon waking up every morning must’ve been Olympic-level at least.
“Congressman Rasner. We’ve completed the exterior sweep.” A man in a slick black suit and an ear piece was behind the door when Dad opened it. “Do you mind if we enter and wrap up the interior search?”
Interior…search? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.
I didn’t know where Rusty had hidden the bugs, or how many of them he’d installed. But if a government-level security sweep was about to tear through the place…
I knew it couldn’t be good.
“Shouldn’t take long, right? Cozy little house like this.” Dad shot me a smile as he moved aside. “We’ll have to get you somewhere a little bigger one of these days, don’t you think, son?”
“Um. Yeah. Yeah, I don’t know. Lissa seems to like it here enough, but…”
My voice trailed off as I watched six men in matching suits enter the house. One of them disappeared down the hall and came back with a terrified-looking Lissa, whose eyes were nearly wider than the dinner plates of the good china I’d set out.
“What’s happening, Daddy?” There was a tremble in her voice as the man led her my way.
“These nice men are just making sure the house is safe for Grandpa.” I scooped her up in my arms and kissed her forehead. There was a tremble in my voice, too, even though I was trying my damnedest to fight it. “Dad, is this really necessary? I mean, we’re family…aren’t we?”
“Of course you are, Daniel!” Dad smacked me on the back hard enough I felt it in my lungs. “Don’t fret about this. It’s just procedure. Part of why I don’t come over and visit more often in person—it’s a hassle, but in my line of work, that’s just how it goes.”
As the men combed the house, I held my breath. In my arms, I could feel
Lissa do the same. For different reasons, I imagined, but our shared tension was palpable until all six of Dad’s security team returned to the foyer.
“How’re we looking?” Dad asked the one who must’ve been their leader. I didn’t even know how he could tell them apart—they were all exactly the same towering height, same build, same haircut. Like carbon copies of the same Men in Black agent.
The man leaned forward, holding his hand up to whisper something discreetly in Dad’s ear. What he said, there was no way of telling. His voice wasn’t even a murmur, and my father had long ago perfected an impenetrable poker face.
Whatever was said, Dad only clapped the man on the shoulder and gave him a nod.
“All clear,” Dad announced to Lissa and I with a smile. “Sorry about that. Like I said. Procedure.”
“Of…of course.” I carried Lissa back over to her seat and placed her into it. “Why don’t I go grab the chicken?” I forced a smile down at Lissa. “And chicken nuggets for Picky Polly, here, of course.”
“Thank you,” Lissa said, sounding relieved for the first time since dinner had started.
As I plated up the chicken, my phone buzzed in my pocket several times. But I had to ignore it—especially now that Lissa and I were even more on edge than before, I had to give my full attention over to keeping this dinner focused.
If Rusty’s bugs had dodged Dad’s security sweep, then now more than ever I needed to make sure I could get Rusty something he could use.
But no matter how I tried to steer the conversation, Dad brushed off my attempts. He was in political mode, all masked up and smiling like he was getting his picture taken for the cover of the Washington Post. He made all his favorite hokey jokes, teased Lissa about getting a boyfriend (which she despised) and didn’t let his lovable good ol’ boy persona drop for even a second. He might as well have been campaigning.
I didn’t know why I’d expected anything different. My father’s political persona was all I’d ever known. I hadn’t even gotten the sense that he was ever faking anything until I was a teenager. And by that point, it didn’t matter. He’d already convinced the media by then that he was the perfect father and I was the perfect son.
“I hope Lissa will at least join us for dessert,” my father commented as she mopped up the last of her chicken nuggets and ketchup. “Or will she be eating pancakes and ice cream while we enjoy creme brulee?”
“I hate pancakes,” Lissa said bitterly. “Rusty made them for me this morning, but I told him they were gross. He’ll make me cereal next time though, so that’s okay.”
Immediately, my cheeks burned crimson.
Busted. So fucking busted.
But Dad didn’t let his composure crack.
“What do you think about Rusty?” he asked Lissa instead—though I didn’t miss the brief little glance he shot me. It was one I knew well.
Someone’s been keeping secrets, it said. It was just as damning as if he’d learned I’d voted against him on his last election run.
Lissa, thankfully, was oblivious to the awkwardness that had just filled up the room to the bursting point.
“He’s very handsome,” she said with a little nod. “But Daddy says we shouldn’t judge people based on how they look.”
“I imagine your Daddy is right about that.”
“Speaking of, how’s that business with your speech writer going, Dad? Wasn’t the media making fun of her for dressing…what’d they call it? Frumpy?” I’d found my chance to steer the conversation elsewhere. I wasn’t going to miss it.
“Oh, those wolves will jump on anything. Just boring drama as usual, son.” Dad pushed back his plate and poured himself another glass of wine. “Although, if you ask me, they might be right for once. A pair of high heels and a little lipstick wouldn’t hurt, after all, and…”
The rest of dinner played out uneventfully. No more mentions of Rusty. No more security teams knocking at the door. Lissa practically inhaled her creme brulee—the one thing that she and my father both seemed to share an enjoyment of.
But when I came back from putting her to bed, I spotted the glass of bourbon in Dad’s hand. The moment our eyes met, I knew the night was far from over yet.
“Surprised you found that,” I said, picking my way across the room to start gathering up napkins and plates.
“Do you mind? Found it in the pantry, tucked away at the back. I thought it was cute, you know. Your dad kept ours in the same place.”
“I know. I found it when I was seven.”
Without asking, Dad poured me a glass of my own. When I reached across the table to gather up his dessert fork, he caught me by the wrist and guided the glass into my hand.
“Why don’t you have a drink with me, Daniel? If you’re old enough to keep bourbon in the house now, you’re surely old enough to drink it.”
“Sure,” I said stiffly. I wanted to point out that I’d proven my adulthood back when he’d forced me into a position of single fatherhood—but it wasn’t worth it.
There wasn’t time to snipe at each other. We had other things to talk about tonight.
“So. You’ve seen Russel King, then.”
“It’s always straight to business with you once the bourbon comes out, huh?”
“Don’t dodge the topic, Daniel. You know good and well that I patented that move myself.”
I sipped at my bourbon for courage—and to give myself a moment to think. Lissa had already let the cat out of the bag on Rusty’s visit. Putting it back in wasn’t going to be possible now.
“He was in town for his brother’s funeral. I thought he at least deserved to meet his daughter before he went back out west.” They weren’t lies. They just…weren’t exactly the truth, either. Another move my father had all but invented.
“So she knows that he’s her father, then?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Of course not. But that’s none of your business, Dad.”
“No,” he echoed. “Of course not.”
I needed to think fast. If I didn’t want this evening to be an entire bust, I needed to push him into saying something incriminating. And now that he was three glasses of wine in, nursing a bourbon as a nightcap, I wasn’t going to get a better chance.
“You know, you never told me you knew that man Rusty cheated on me with.” I all but blurted out the words. My heart was beating so loud, I’d be surprised if Dad couldn’t hear it as he let a long pause ride out.
“I didn’t think it was relevant,” he said simply. “It’s not my job to keep track of every fling your ex-boyfriends get into, you know. Those pictures were a favor. To you and Lissa both.”
“It was Bennet Godfrey, Dad. He answered your phone for over a year. I got to know the sound of his voice pretty well for someone I never actually met.”
“I knew that, Daniel. But mentioning it…” He shook his head sadly. “It seemed like a painful addition to an already painful revelation, that Russel was cheating on you to someone so close to us. Russel King never struck me as the kind of man who could keep his hands to himself if you gave him the chance, but you’d think that we could expect better from one of our own.”
“He died, Dad. Did you know that?”
Another pause. I didn’t bother letting him get to the point where he could think of a clever way to follow it up.
“He was killed in a car accident just a few months after those pictures were taken. That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”
“Very. A tragedy, in fact. That boy had a lot of promise—for a traitor, I mean. He could’ve gone far.” Dad sipped his bourbon. “What’s your point, Daniel? You seem to know a lot about Bennet Godfrey all of a sudden. Why might that be?”
“Did you have him killed?” There was no point dancing around it. Dad already knew where I was headed.
He cocked his head to one side and frowned. Of course he did—he’d already been expecting the question, so he’d already prepared his answer. “Why on earth would I do something like that?”
“I don’t know.” Another half-truth. “To keep me from learning that those pictures you gave me were fake, maybe?”
I expected Dad to shut down at that point. I wasn’t being clever or subtle, and this conversation had already veered into hot fucking water for him.
But instead, he sat his glass down and moved toward me. His shoes tapped against the wood floor beneath his feet. He only stopped when he was close enough, I could smell the bourbon on his breath.
“You should stay away from Russel King, Daniel.” For the first time all evening, Dad’s smile had disappeared. Now, he looked like he didn’t even know what a smile looked like. “That man is nothing but bad news, and I’m not going to put up with this nonsense any longer. I don’t have much patience for bullshit these days, son. And you’ve got a daughter to think of.”
His voice was sinister and low. Low enough, I felt like I couldn’t even breathe.
But then, something broke. Dad shifted back to his drink, tossed it back and headed for the door. When he turned to put on his coat, his smile had returned as well.
But it wasn’t the same smile he’d been wearing earlier. There was something broken about it too. Something that made my blood turn to ice as it fell upon me.
“Thank you so much for dinner, Daniel. I hope to see you and Lissa again very soon.” The smile widened. “Hell, maybe we could make this a regular thing. Work on those cooking skills of yours—we’ll find you a nice Alpha to get hitched to yet!”
As soon as he was gone, I pulled out my phone to call Rusty.
Fuck. I’d already missed three of his calls. He’d left me a text, too.
Call me. ASAP.
“Rusty?” My voice sounded like I’d left it buried in the sink with the rest of the dinner dishes. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get him to say anything, but—”
“The bugs all went offline two hours ago, Daniel. We heard your dad invite his security boys in, then nothin’. Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
I swallowed hard. “That would be the security sweep, yeah.They must have found them.” Dad’s poker face had claimed yet another victim, it would seem. “Which means that he knew all night that I’d tried to record him.”
