‘The guys can drop me back to the apartment,’ I suggest as I walk towards the double doors of the hotel, ‘don’t worry,’ I call over my shoulder, ‘I won’t be long.’ I hate lying to Marnie, she has been so good to me and is as charming as hell, but I need a head start, there isn’t a lot of time left. I will fly to Boston and get the money from my dad, he owes me that much. The quicker the debt is paid, the faster everyone can get on with their lives.
In reality, how long will it be before someone fucks up and they manage to get through to me, or Nate? No, I have to end this.
The police officers look surprised by my appearance. I imagine that Nate had informed them that I would be remaining at Marnie’s. They instantly agree to drive me back to the apartment over the salon, but they exchange a glance that suggests they aren’t entirely happy about it.
‘We should call it in Ma’am,’ the blonde, younger officer advises me.
‘Oh, don’t do that, I just need some clothes,’ I send him my best smile. ‘All you will do is worry Nate,’ I suggest. ‘We can be back in twenty minutes,’ I charm him.
They exchange another dubious look, but obey my request.
When they drop me outside the salon, I glance at the sign stuck on the front door that Nate had evidently planted, informing my clients that the salon is closed for the foreseeable. I feel a dipping in my stomach, a sadness that I wouldn’t be continuing to run the salon. I had been happy working here, it escalated my familiarity with the locals and made me feel like I belonged.
Whatever happened, I was done with Krystal. I prevented my mind from deciphering the implications of that statement, because I knew being done with Krystal also meant being done with Nate. That wasn’t something I had the time, nor the emotional stability to contemplate, right now.
The officers exit the vehicle and insist on checking out the apartment before I enter. I stand outside and wait until they give it the all clear, notifying me they will wait downstairs on the sidewalk. I have no doubt they will then decide to, call it in! I knew I didn’t have a lot of time.
Opening my laptop, I locate and book a last minute plane ticket to Boston, which leaves in four hours, which gives me a limited amount of time to drive to Denver, and check-in. The only seat available is a first class ticket, at an extortionate price. I load the cost onto my credit card and decide to worry about the bill when I am home and safe.
I grab a weekend bag and locate my passport and a change of clothes, stuffing it all inside with my makeup. Picking up my car keys, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and jog down to my car, which is parked at the rear of the salon. I climb inside, my heart hammering within the confines of my chest cavity, I plead it to slow it down before I hyperventilate. I am scared, but I am determined to put things right.
My mobile phone begins to ring, as soon as I pull into the light Krystal traffic. I glance over to observe the screen, Nate Calling. I allow it to divert to voicemail and ignore the clenching of my gut. He will be fuming. When I hit the road leading out of Krystal, I detach the battery of my mobile phone and throw it into the glove compartment.
I only feel relief when I sit in the first class section of the plane, and it commences its journey onto the runway. I had an awful premonition that Nate would discover my intention and stop the flight, relief flows through me. Laying back with my eyes closed, I force my body to relax, my muscles aching with the tension that holds my body tight.
I accept a glass of champagne, when the flight attendant offers it, with two painkillers to numb the throbbing of my rib and head before dropping into a dreamless slumber.
********
‘I’m sorry Ma’am,’ the blonde woman on the reception desk of The Boston Tower, looks regretfully towards me, ‘but, Mr. Parker says to tell you he is in a meeting.’
‘Really?’ Fury rushes through my tired veins. ‘Well, can you tell, my father,’ that should get her attention, ‘that this is a family emergency,’ my tone is sickly sweet, my body is tense.
‘Oh, err,’ her face fails to conceal her shock at my announcement. I had introduced myself as Sophie, purposely omitting my surname to prevent being associated with my dad. Now, I couldn’t give a shit. I feel sorry for her, she is evidently torn between wanting to do the right thing and following orders from a higher hierarchy. She glances nervously to the doorway behind her, ‘just a moment, please.’
I pace up and down, anger blinding me. If my father doesn’t respond, I will make such a scene that he will regret dismissing me as a nobody; I promise myself.
It’s another ten minutes before he appears, obviously aggravated by my impromptu arrival. His jaw is tense, his grey eyes gleaming with anger, or is it embarrassment? He wordlessly directs me through a door to the left of the reception area into a small office that I assume is maybe the security staff’s base. I’m clearly not important enough to enter his penthouse office, the one that Ollie had informed me had the most incredible view over the harbour. My stomach pains. I am what I am to him, what I have always been to him, a nonentity, someone he doesn’t wish to admit to having, because he knows deep down inside, him deserting me would be frowned upon by all that have a heart, a conscience. He would be judged badly for not claiming and loving a daughter he had with his dead wife.
‘I’m sure there’s a broom cupboard somewhere,’ I mutter, ironically.
‘I don’t have time for this shit,’ he growls. ‘What the fuck do you want Sophie?’
‘Wow, it’s good to see you too, Dad!’ I over-empathise the word dad to remind him of the fact.
He has the decency to flush slightly. I guess that’s something.
‘I take it your staff and friends don’t know that you have a daughter?’ I hear the hurt in my tone and internally chastise myself. Why do you care? I ask myself.
‘I am a private person,’ he announces as if this justifies my neglect. ‘I have a busy schedule, what is it you want?’ He repeats.
‘I want you to pay off Ollie’s debts,’ I demand, impassively.
He scoffs dramatically. ‘So, I was right all along you are after money!’
‘Not for me, believe me, I wouldn’t touch your guilt money,’ I half wince, the truth being, the monthly maintenance money he had sent me throughout my childhood had set up my first salon. ‘For Ollie,’ I tilt my chin stubbornly.
‘Newsflash, darlin’, your brother is dead!’ He is so cold in his expression it leaves me wondering how on earth I am related to him.
‘My mother must have been a fool,’ I accuse.
‘You don’t fucking ever talk about your mother!’ He shouts at me, the fury in his eyes sending them crazed.
‘Why not? I’m the image of her, apparently,’ I express, passionately, ‘and yet, I can’t for the life of me understand how she could have loved and procreated with a cold-hearted bastard like you!’ I am almost snarling with the pent up anger that is surging through me. ‘How would she have felt about you deserting me, DAD?’ Again, I over-emphasise the word, dad.
He pales, which encourages me to continue, to air all the hurt and upset that has laid stagnant inside me from as far back as I could remember.
‘I don’t imagine,’ I inhale a sharp breath, ‘she would have been elated at the news you had me flown out of the country as soon as it was legally permitted. Dumped me on family, who were grieving the loss of their daughter, and who projected all that grief onto a tiny baby too young to understand, but very quickly became aware, as a toddler, that her arrival into this world came at a price. A price that not one of you would have paid if given the choice. Torn from my family, my mother barely cold,’ a sob escapes my mouth, and I clasp a hand across my lips to hold together the pieces.
‘It wasn’t like that!’ He mutters, his voice weak.
‘Then tell me, DAD. What exactly was it like, what did I do that warranted being disowned by you?’ My voice is now only a whisper.
‘You killed the only person I could ever love!’ He roared, his face so red, he loo
ked as if he would combust at any moment.
Tears are rolling down my cheek, silently, apart from the odd hiccup that erupts from the strength of my devastation. ‘That wasn’t my fault,’ I wipe a tear.
‘Whose fault was it then, Sophie?’ He scoffs.
‘I didn’t ask to be born,’ his ignorance is unmeasurable.
He runs both hands over his ageing face, in frustration, in desperation? He wants me gone. I remind him too much of her.
I take a steadying breath in. ‘I came to America to say goodbye to a brother that I was never allowed to know,’ I continue, quietly. ‘A brother who was shot because he was apparently involved in drugs,’ I look at my father’s face to gauge his reaction. Did he know? His gaze flies to mine, oh yeah he knew.
‘He’s an adult, he made his own choices,’ he mutters, offhand.
‘This is how I consider it goes, DAD. After thirty-six years of you supporting Oliver, pandering to his every need, grooming him to take over the businesses, you find out he is not only gay.’ Again I analyse his facial expression. His lips curl, yep, he knew that too. ‘But, he has zero interest in your empire,’ I wave my hand around the small, dingy room. ‘So, what do you do? Do you support him as his only living parent, encourage him to live his life, choose his path?’
‘Fuck you, Sophie!’ he makes to leave the room.
‘I suggest you don’t take this conversation outside these doors, DAD.’ I warn. ‘I wonder what everyone out there,’ I point to the door, ‘will think about our little fairy story? Or will welcome your bigoted nature?’ My voice is becoming stronger, more confident as I continue. He stands perfectly still, his jaw tight, the hate for me palpable in his cold gaze.
‘Where were we? Oh yeah, so you don’t support your only child,’ I scoff at that, ‘but you cut off all financial aid, and leave him to drown in his bills, bills that substantiated his lifestyle. Bills that he had no method of ever settling as a newly qualified hairdresser. So, he did what he thought was his only option left. He began to sell drugs for some insalubrious monsters who promised to eliminate the credit card bills and prevent the debt collectors from darkening his doorstep.’ I step forward and point my finger into my father’s chest. ‘Here’s a newsflash for you, darlin’,’ I mock, ‘you think I killed my mum? Well, you killed your son. You instigated the events that led to his death and now they are after me.’ His eyebrows raise and for a moment his eyes expose his shock. ‘I lift up my baggy t-shirt and expose the purple bruise on my rib.
‘What the fuck?’ He turns away.
‘You can turn away from the truth as much as you like, but it will always come back and bite you in the arse,’ I scoff. ‘See this,’ I point to my face and neck. ‘This is what one of those thugs did to me, while he sexually violated me, holding a knife to my throat.’
He appears shaken by this information, his eyes checking mine for validity. ‘Who did this?’ He gasps.
‘They want the twenty-three grand that Ollie owed them for drugs,’ I continue, ‘or they will be disposing of me in a much more inhumane manner, shall we say?’
‘Jesus Christ!’ He holds his head in his hands.
‘Now, I know that you don’t give a shit about me, but a heads up?’ I peer directly into his eyes. ‘Once I’m out of the picture, they will be knocking on your door until they receive what they are owed.’ I watch his eyes widen. ‘Oh, and I will be ensuring that the police know I came to you for help, if anything happens to me, that will also be at your hand.’
I turn and put my hand on the handle. ‘Goodbye, Daddy!’ I smile sweetly.
‘Wait!’ I twist to face him, ‘I’ll pay the money,’ he agrees. ‘Who do I pay it to?’
My body trembles with relief, which I somehow manage to conceal. ‘I don’t exactly have their bank details,’ I murmur. ‘They will contact me,’ for a moment I worry about precisely how they are going to contact me, seeing as Nate has had all my calls tracked and my mobile phone is inside the glove compartment of my Jeep in Denver? ‘I have about fourteen hours before they come for me.’
‘It’ll take me a couple of hours to get that sort of cash,’ he complains.
‘I am on the midday flight back to Denver,’ I open the doorknob, ‘I can’t carry that sort of money through customs. Arrange to have it delivered to me when I land,’ I don’t know if that’s possible, but I do know that money gives you privileges. He will work it out if he gives a damn about his life. ‘Let me know where to meet the cash.’
‘Wait!’ He calls, as I step into the crowded foyer.
‘What?’ I question.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbles, his eyes dropping to the floor pathetically.
‘Save it for someone that gives a shit,’ I shake my head in disgust as I walk on strong legs outside the marbled reception area and onto the hot pavement of the harbour outside. It's only then do I permit myself to drop to the nearest bench and sob into my hands.
*******
I head directly for the airport to wash and change into fresh clothes, brush my teeth and apply enough makeup to disguise the dark shadows beneath my hazel eyes. I have another two hours before my plane leaves, so I sit in a café and sip coffee as I contemplate the past month.
It has been eventful, emotional and heart wrenching, but the pinnacle was being able to verbalise my feelings towards my father, to express how badly his behaviour affected me throughout my life. He is too selfish to take on anyone else’s feelings; all he ever thought about was himself. Even keeping Oliver and me apart never benefited anyone else but him.
I immediately feel as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. He may have deserted me, but at least I knew love of some description within my mother’s family. It may have been displaced and bittersweet, but I now understand that Ollie didn’t experience a fraction of what I did. Instead, he faced unreasonable expectations and conditions to our father’s love.
Thinking about it now, I was at an advantage knowing that our dad never loved me. Ollie, evidently had to earn our father’s affection, and when he didn’t quite come up to scratch to those expectancies, he was cruelly cast aside.
When confronted with a situation that was sink or swim, unfortunately, Ollie sank. I have to be thankful that I had the strength to swim.
********
I reinsert the battery of my phone as soon as I reach my vehicle, eager to receive a call from the drug dealers, to arrange a drop off point and resolve matters.
My voicemail box is full. I prepare to sit and listen to various messages from Nate, wavering from concern to anger, to frustration. Ellie also left two messages begging me to contact her, and lastly Shauna, who was frantic. Evidently, Nate had called her to see if she knew where I was heading. Seeing as she was ignorant to any of the drama that was unfolding around me, she called to demand I call her as soon as possible, or she was threatened to come out to Denver. I roll my eyes as I send her a text informing her I am fine and will call her tonight, Denver time.
My phone rings from an unidentified number.
‘Hello!’ I can hardly breathe.
‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t the whore,’ it’s the motherfucker who had his slimy hands over my body. I don’t have the time, or inclination to contemplate how he acquired my number. My body trembles, physically, and I have to swallow the bile that has risen in my throat.
‘I got the money,’ or I will, I hope.
‘Good girl,’ he sneers, ‘seems as if you are the sensible sibling,’ he growls. ‘Now, I want the money dropped, no cops, or you know who will be next on my list,’ he reminds me. ‘An hour out of Denver, in between Krystal and Marshall, there’s a pit stop,’ he instructs. I am scribbling down his directions on the back of my e-ticket. ‘I’ll meet you there, in…’
‘No, no meeting me, our last meeting didn’t go so well for me,’ I remind him, ‘I’ll leave it somewhere for you to collect.’
‘You aren’t in a position to negotiate here, bitch,’ he shouts. ‘You fucking
meet me, or you’ll get a visit of a different kind, you get me?’
‘But I got the money,’ tears fill my eyes at the realisation this isn’t going to be as easy as I first imagined.
‘Yeah, and you will give me the courtesy of handing it over,’ his voice is aggressive and totally out of control.
‘You won’t touch me?’ I feel a ball of concrete settle in my gut.
He laughs, the sound like nails down a chalkboard, ‘I can’t promise that bitch, I still want to fuck you raw,’ he admits.
‘No!’ I close my eyes against the vomit that threatens to escape.
‘Relax you fucking bitch, you’d be so fucking lucky,’ he growls. ‘But, you will meet me at six. Unmarked cash, don’t even think about pulling one over on me,’ he warns, ‘I have people in places you wouldn’t believe, don’t even think about fucking double crossing me. You hear?’
‘I won’t,’ I promise, but he’s already disconnected.
I sit with my head against the steering wheel while I settle my insides, I need a weapon, just in case. Anything, pepper spray, knife, I don’t give a damn as long as it has the potential to incapacitate the creep long enough for me to make a hasty exit. His hands are never going to touch me again.
My father had called while I had been on the phone, I listen to the voicemail instructing me to meet one of his colleagues at the car park on the opposite side of the airport to collect the money. He provides the make of car, the level, plus the parking bay number. There was also another stammered sorry, at the end of the message. Was he really that naïve? He didn’t get it, it was all too little, too late, and I have not an ounce of sympathy for him. He made his bed, now he can lay in it, as far as I am concerned.
I drive over to the described car park, where true to his word, dad’s colleague sits inside a black SUV. He immediately exits the vehicle and climbs into the passenger seat of my Jeep, placing the holdall behind my seat.
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