“No, I don’t,” I teased him. “What did you mean?”
“I meant we’re gonna be in New York City for six hours,” he groused. “What else am I gonna do?”
“I don’t know,” I said and looked down at my laptop to avoid making eye contact, “but this is something I have to do alone.”
“Ooooh, mysterious.”
I ignored him.
He tried again. “You’re gonna leave me in the Big Apple unsupervised for six hours? Not wise.”
“True,” I admitted. “So I think you better stay on the plane.”
“What?! No – ”
“That’s an order.”
He gritted his teeth. “God DAMN it… I hate this fuckin’ bet.”
I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You certainly like other parts of it.”
His annoyance broke, and he grinned. “Can we at least induct you into the Mile High Club on the way?”
I smiled and looked back down at my laptop. “We’ll see.”
“You know, we should really do the Domestic Mile High Club on the way there, then the International Mile High Club on the way to London – ”
“We’ll see,” I said, and that was as much as I would give him.
72
Turns out I didn’t join the Domestic branch of the club. I was too nervous on the trip to New York to be in the mood.
Vic was nice about it, though. He saw I was preoccupied and gave me my space, which I appreciated immensely.
Once we landed at JFK, I had two private cars waiting for us – to Vic’s complete surprise.
“I thought I was staying on the plane.”
“I’m going to trust you,” I told him. “Go have a great lunch or… whatever. Just don’t do anything you’d normally do.”
He laughed. “And whatever would that be?”
“Drunken orgies, mostly.”
“Don’t knock a drunken orgy till you try it.”
“Yeah, right. Just be back here in five hours.”
“Okay,” he said, then looked me in the eye. “You sure you don’t want some company?”
“No… this is something I need to do on my own.”
73
It took a little over an hour to get to Newark.
The entire way there, I thought about what was waiting for me… about the crushing financial obligation… about how much I needed this job…
And I thought about Vic. A lot.
Do I get to meet everybody?
I smiled at the innocent question, and how flustered he’d gotten.
Not like, ‘meet the FAMILY,’ just – jeez, you know what I meant.
He was a good guy, deep down. And the same way I knew that, I also knew that whatever was going on between us wasn’t going to last. It was fun, but that was it.
And I didn’t want it to end prematurely by taking him with me to Newark.
I didn’t want to scare him off with the heaviness of what was waiting.
74
Once we reached the hospice parking lot, I told the driver to wait, and then I went inside and checked in at the front desk.
The head nurse gave me an earful as she escorted me to the room. “He is the most cantankerous patient I’ve ever had in 30 years, and that is saying something.”
“Yeah, he is that,” I agreed.
“He keeps getting out of bed on his own. He knows it’s not good for him – he could easily fall – so I need you to impress upon him how dangerous it is.”
“I’ll try.”
That wasn’t good enough for her. “Ms. Ames, I don’t need to tell you how – ”
“You know what he’s like,” I interrupted, “so you know that trying is the best I can do.”
She sniffed disdainfully. “Well, try hard.”
She rapped lightly on the door and opened it an inch. “Mr. Ames, are you awake?”
A weak voice floated out of the darkened room. “Leave me alone.”
“Your daughter is here, Mr. Ames.”
There was a pause.
“…send her in.”
75
I walked in slowly. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, I took in the shape of my father lying on his side in the bed, twisted up in the sheets.
Anytime I went months between visits, it was always a shock to see him. It wasn’t just the oxygen tubes in his nose, or the pallor of his skin, or how gaunt he was… it was how old he looked. How his grey hair was always so much thinner than I remembered.
I sat down in the chair opposite his bed. His eyes looked me over – the only sparks of life in his otherwise still body.
“Dad – ” I began.
“Don’t start,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly quite loud in the quiet of the room.
“Dad – ” I tried again, my voice rising.
“I don’t want to hear another lecture!” he boomed angrily.
“You can’t get out of bed!” I shouted at him.
“I’ll do whatever I damn well please!” he roared.
We went back and forth like that for a whole minute, me yelling at him about being irresponsible, and him bellowing about how nobody could tell him what to do because it was his own life.
Finally we stopped shouting at each other.
I sat back in the chair and shook my head in frustration.
His demeanor softened the tiniest bit. “You look like your mother when you do that.”
“I wish she was still here. Maybe she could knock some sense into you.”
“Ah, she wouldn’t waste her time on the impossible.”
I snorted. “Amen.”
There was a twinkle in his eye, and he smiled. “Hey, Princess,” he said, his voice gentle.
My eyes misted up, and I smiled back. “Hey, Daddy.”
And then we finally began to talk.
76
“How’s your new job?” he asked.
“It’s good.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m the provisional VP of Operations at a hedge fund in San Francisco.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
It means I’m a babysitter.
Although the babysitting had been a lot more fun lately.
“Uh… it means I handle a lot of the operations of the hedge fund. Meetings, investor relations… stuff like that.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“It’s not bad. We’re actually going to Europe for meetings the next two weeks. That’s why I stopped by, we’re flying out tonight.”
“‘We’?”
Oh crap.
My father was like a bloodhound for gossip, and his favorite topic was my romantic life.
“You got a fella?” he pressed.
“Why do you just automatically assume I’m going with some guy?” I asked in a huff. “Why wouldn’t you assume people I work with?”
“‘Cause of the way you said ‘we,’” he grinned mischievously. “So – you got a fella?”
Normally this part of the conversation put me on edge, because I knew where it was headed: Who are you dating? When are you getting married? When are you gonna give me grandchildren like your brothers?
But this time, I was taken aback by the question. It made me think.
Did I have a ‘fella’?
“…it’s too early to tell,” I said, and was surprised at how wistful I felt at my answer. Almost like I wanted to say ‘yes.’
“What’s he like?” Dad asked.
I thought about that for a second before I answered. “Well… he’s got two sides to him. One side is this goofball party boy who never wants to grow up… but then there’s this other side, where he’s really powerful and driven and doesn’t take shit from anybody.”
“Sounds like trouble,” my father said, though not disapprovingly.
“Well, you know I like trouble.”
“Ha… got that from your mother,” he said, and I saw the twinkle in his eye again.
I smiled. “Ma
ybe so.”
“Is it gettin’ serious, you and this guy?”
“No. Probably not,” I said, and again I felt a slight pang of sadness. “There are… professional considerations.”
“Ohhhh… you work with him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if it gets serious, I want to meet him. I might not be able to stick around to see my grandchildren, so it’d be nice to see you set up with a good man.”
I overlooked the whole sexist part about me needing to be ‘set up’ with a good man and stuck to the important part. “You’re going to live to see all your grandchildren, Daddy. You’ve got to think positive.”
Sometimes he would argue with me, about how we had to face facts head-on and not lie to ourselves about the inevitable.
But not today.
Instead he smiled, his eyes closed halfway. “…sure. You’re right, sweetheart.”
“Don’t get out of bed without a nurse, okay?”
“Can I get into bed with a nurse?” he grinned, then cast his eyes up at the ceiling. “Just kiddin’, honey. You know there’s nobody but you.”
He was talking to my mother, who had died seven years before. He did it all the time.
But that wasn’t going to get him out of trouble right now.
“Dad – don’t get out of bed without a nurse helping you, okay?”
“…we’ll see.”
We talked another twenty minutes, mostly about how my brothers were doing, and then I got a text.
We’re out in the lobby.
My stomach grew queasy. “I better go, Daddy. I’ve got a flight to catch.”
“Alright. Thanks for comin’ to see me, Princess.”
“I wish I could do it more often.”
“Ah, you got a big important job now. You do what you gotta do.”
I kissed him on his forehead. “Thanks.”
“And good luck with that fella. I got a good feelin’ about him.”
I looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean, you got a good feeling about him? You don’t even know him!”
“Yeah, but when you talked about him, you looked happy. And when you said you weren’t sure if it was gonna work out, you looked sad. I haven’t seen you care that much about a fella in forever.”
Suddenly I felt vulnerable and anxious, like an embarrassing secret I didn’t even know I harbored had suddenly been exposed to the entire world.
“Huh,” was all I could manage.
“Just get workin’ on those grandkids as soon as you can.”
I rolled my eyes as I headed for the door. “We’ll see. You don’t get out of bed anymore – not without a nurse.”
“We’ll see,” he grinned.
77
I found Spence and Brian out in the lobby.
“You could’ve come in,” I said as I walked up to them.
“Nice to see you, too,” Spence said irritably. He was a prosecutor for the city of Newark, and the profession fit him like a glove.
“Hey Sis,” Brian said, and gave me a hug. He was a pediatrician, and a lot more mild-mannered than anybody else in my family. “We thought it would be best to talk out here before we went in.”
Great.
My stomach twisted even more, because I knew what we were going to talk about: what we always talked about.
Money.
“I can’t stay long, I’ve got to catch a flight,” I said, giving myself an escape hatch – and careful not to mention Vic or the private jet.
“Short trip,” Spence said suspiciously.
“I’m on a layover to London.”
“Must be nice,” Spence said in a not-so-nice voice.
“It’s for work,” I snapped, though I did feel a little guilty, knowing that the trip was going to be a lot of fun if Vic had anything to do with it.
Not that my brothers needed to hear about that part.
“Nice – how’s the job?” Brian asked.
“Good.”
“They started paying you yet?” Spence asked, ever tactful.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Not the full amount, no.”
Brian sighed. “Look, Sis, we know you’re under a money crunch – ”
“I have $300,000 in student loans,” I snapped. “So yeah, I’d say I’m under a money crunch.”
“I have a million dollar mortgage,” Spence sneered. “We’ve all got problems.”
“You chose to buy a million dollar house.”
“Just like you chose to go to NYU and Wharton.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t have invested in my education?”
“Nobody’s saying that,” Brian said, trying to broker peace. “It’s just this round-the-clock care is expensive. He’s not old enough yet for Medicare, and the medical insurance he had is crap – ”
“Which is why we all need to chip in and pay our share,” Spence said.
“That’s why I took the job, Spence,” I snarled.
Brian put his hands up. “Look, I know it’s tough. We just… we’re all under strain, okay?”
“…I know,” I grumbled.
“So… whenever you can help out, it would be a big help,” Brian said.
“Three more weeks. That’s all I need, and I can start paying my share.”
“Finally,” Spence said under his breath.
I glared daggers at him.
Even Brian gave him a look. “Spence? Not helping.”
I checked my phone, for no other reason than I wanted out of there. “I gotta go.”
“Alright… don’t be a stranger, okay?”
We exchanged hugs. Even Spence and I did, although it was more of a one-armed, barely-touching kind of thing.
As I walked out of the hospice, I resolved more than ever to help my brothers with my father – no matter what it took.
78
Vic
Something was up with Monica. She wasn’t about to tell me what was going on, so I decided to find out however I could.
I actually knew both drivers who showed up at JFK – Carl and Brady. My uncles always used the same car service in New York, so I knew all the regulars. I asked Carl for Brady’s cell number and texted him after Monica left.
Yo, it’s Vic. Don’t let on, but let me know where you take her once you get there.
Sure thing, he texted back.
While I waited for his answer, I thought about what I was doing. It seemed a little creepy, yeah, but I was genuinely concerned. If she was in some kind of trouble – like, say, a stalker ex – I wanted to know.
I suppose that’s pretty funny, me spying on her to find out if she had a stalker.
Oh well. It’s not like I’d ever done this before. It had been years since I’d cared enough about a woman to take her out on a second date, much less spy on her. I usually ditched ‘em before I got anywhere near caring.
This was different, though… and it was a little weird.
Brady texted back an hour later.
Some sort of hospital or something.
Hospital?
Where are you? I texted back.
Newark.
Send me a picture.
The photo he sent was of a squat, ugly little brick building with a sign out front: Angels Hospice.
Hospice.
Shit.
That was worse than a hospital.
At least with a hospital, you go in to get better.
With a hospice, you go there to die.
A quick search and I found the number on the internet.
“Hey there,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m trying to send flowers to some old family friends of mine I haven’t seen in years – a Mr. and Mrs. Ames. My cousin said that one of them is with you guys. What room should I send the flowers to?”
She bought it hook, link, and sinker. “Oh, you can just put ‘Mr. Ames’ on the delivery address, care of Angels Hospice, and we’ll get it to him. Do you have our address?”
I rattled off the address from the internet.
“Is that the one?”
“That’s it.”
“Great, thanks. So what about Mrs. Ames? Does she come by often?”
Luckily the receptionist was a big ol’ gossip. “Mm, I don’t know anything about Mrs. Ames. I’ve seen his sons a lot – and his daughter just came in today – ”
“Monica?”
“That’s the one. You want me to say hello for you?”
“No – no, I want the flowers to be a surprise.”
“Okay. We’ll get ‘em to him.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up the phone feeling vaguely guilty – which was a weird sensation. I hadn’t felt guilty about anything for… damn, for years. But I felt bad now, like I’d crossed a line I probably shouldn’t have. Monica had a secret she didn’t want me to know, and I’d gone and pried and found out anyway.
She didn’t want to talk about it. That was cool, I could understand that. Maybe she didn’t trust me enough. Maybe she didn’t feel close enough to talk about it yet.
But part of me wished she would.
And that was the most surprising thing of all.
79
Monica
The trip to London was uneventful. We left at 9PM, with an expected arrival in the morning because of the time change. Dinner was incredibly good – during his solo daytrip, Vic had gotten a couple of carryout boxes from one of the nicest restaurants in New York – and the bottle of wine we shared was superb.
The only thing I didn’t feel like doing was having sex.
Vic didn’t press it, but he did ask, “Everything okay? Anything you want to talk about?”
“No. Everything’s fine,” I assured him.
But everything wasn’t fine. My stopover in Newark had reminded me of that, and it was tough to get over.
80
Vic was surprisingly awake and pleasant when we landed in London.
After only a couple hours of sleep, I, however, was not.
Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2 Page 21
