by Shaw, LK
“Thank you.”
Like ripping off a bandage, I needed to get this over with. Who knew how long afterward I’d have to hide in my room. I was never good company after a phone call, or rare dinner, with either of my parents.
“Hello, George.”
His heave of disgust didn’t surprise me. “Such disrespect. I shouldn’t be surprised. You are your mother’s daughter after all. How many children call their fathers by their first name? None that I know of. I don’t understand why you insist on being so difficult, Estelle.”
My fingers ached from the tight grip I maintained on the phone. I had to forcibly unclench them when all I wanted to do was keep squeezing until I crushed the receiver into a pile of dust.
“Did you need something?”
“I understand you’re staying with that family again. Without Ines being there. What purpose does that serve? You’re a grown up now, Estelle. There’s no reason for you to run to them all the time.”
Not once did George ever take responsibility for his part in why I ran to Ines’ house. To this day, it baffled me that he hadn’t ever taken a step back and realized that it was his and my mother’s volatile relationship that pushed me here. This house was safe.
“If you only called to insult my friend’s family, then our conversation is over.”
My threat worked, because George’s sigh was filled with defeat. “I called because your birthday is coming up in a few days, and since I’ll be away at work, I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight.”
He had me utterly flabbergasted.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it,” I hedged.
“It’s your thirtieth birthday. It’s an important milestone. One we need to celebrate.”
For a brief moment, I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry.
“Why are you laughing? Estelle?”
Tears of mirth trailed down my cheeks. I couldn’t catch my breath. With gasps of choked back laughter, I managed to form words. “I’m… only…twenty… seven.”
“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t understand you.”
Wiping away tears, I chortled a few times, and inhaled a hiccuped breath. “I said”—shaky chuckle—“I’m twenty-seven. Not thirty.”
There was silence on the other end. I hoped my father was drowning in his idiocy. He finally cleared his throat and continued as though my revelation was of no concern. “I’ve made us a reservation for seven o’clock at Spiaggia.”
It was like speaking to a brick wall. “Did you not hear what I said? Tonight isn’t a good night.” Tomorrow wouldn’t be any better. Or the next night. Most likely not the next either.
“Why don’t you bring that Victor boy with you?”
This entire conversation made my blood pressure rise. I needed to get off the phone. Now. “Fine. I’ll talk to him and get back to you.”
It filled me with immense pleasure to hang up, cutting off George mid-sentence. A growl of frustration rose out of my chest. I barely restrained myself from screaming and throwing the phone across the room.
“Estelle? You okay?” There was a soft knock behind Victor’s muffled words. The hinges creaked when he cracked open the door and hesitantly stuck his head in. “I was actually on my way to come find you when my dad said your father was on the phone. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
It was sweet that he came to check on me. It was also not…great. My anger level was still at the top of the thermometer and ready to explode out of it. I could see shattering glass spraying everyone with the vitriol I wanted to scream.
“Not really.” It had been a long time since I’d cried tears of rage, but I was on the edge. I hated that my father had reduced me to this. He didn’t even care either. That’s what made it that much worse. No, actually what made it worse, was that I continued to let him.
Victor stepped through the door and closed it behind him. “What can I do to help?”
For all his flippant ways, he knew when it was time to step up. I wasn’t used to offers of help from anyone, so my first instinct was to say nothing. It was often easier that way. No expectations to be upheld. I was trying to change though. Rely on someone, Victor, more.
“Apparently George made dinner reservations for him and me tonight to celebrate my thirtieth birthday, and as usual, didn’t listen when I told him it wasn’t a good time.”
Victor’s face crinkled in confusion. “Your what birthday?”
My laugh was humorless. “That’s pretty much what I said.”
He was actually at a loss for words for a minute. “I’m not even going to try and puzzle that one out.”
“You’re better off not.”
“You know, I could always go with you if you’d like.”
My heart pitter-pattered at his offer. “Funny you should mention that. He suggested I bring ‘that Victor boy’. Before I hung up on him, I said I’d ask, but mostly to placate him.”
Victor pulled me into his arms. His heat seeped through his t-shirt and straight into me to push away the cold I hadn’t known I was feeling. I nearly purred when he petted my hair. It soothed some of my hostility for which I was grateful.
“One day you’ll believe me when I tell you, you only have to ask for my help. It’s free for the offering. No matter what. No matter when. Without stipulations or conditions.”
Everything in me was desperate to believe him. I snuggled closer, the feel of soft cotton against my skin, the scent of fabric softener, and Victor finally washing away the last remnants of anger that had lingered.
“Thank you. Are you sure you don’t mind coming with me?” I murmured against his chest, his heart beat strong in my ear. His arms tightened around me in a protective gesture against any harm that threatened me.
“Not at all. Where are we going, and what time are we supposed to be there?”
“Reservations are for seven at Spiaggia.”
Victor whistled. “Fancy. So, we’ll be there at ten after?” Amusement colored his question.
I pulled back to look up at him with a raised brow. There was a twinkle in his eye. “You don’t think showing up ten minutes late is childish? I thought about it but didn’t want to appear petty. Also, I know George. I’m not inclined to sit there from the time we’re seated until our order is taken or beyond listening to him lecture me about common courtesy and timeliness.”
His eyes widened. “He’d really do that?”
“My father does nothing but criticize or complain about everything I do or say. He isn’t happy unless he makes everyone else around him miserable. Of course, his own miserableness is never his fault. Someone else is always to blame.”
Victor palmed my jaw with his calloused hand. I leaned into his touch, loving the feel of his rough skin against my cheek. It was the hand of someone who worked hard. A shiver skittered down my spine at the thought of his rough hands touching me everywhere.
“He sounds extremely unpleasant.” His expression tightened, and his mouth flattened.
“It won’t be a fun evening, that’s for sure. In fact, I’d be more than happy not to go, but…” my voice trailed off, not really wanting to explain it.
Victor nodded solemnly. “It’s easier to just go along with things and get them over with as peaceably and quickly as possible. It’s a few hours of discomfort compared to days or weeks of continuous berating and guilt trips through phone calls.”
I couldn’t believe he’d actually understood without me having to explain it. No one ever really got it before. “Exactly.”
“I’ll try and deflect as much of the criticism as possible. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll direct it all toward me. I don’t know him, but I have no invested interest in his feelings about me, so nothing he says will bother me. Besides, if he gets too obnoxious, we’ll leave.”
Unknown feelings rushed through me. I raised up and kissed him, trying to convey all my words in the touch of my lips against his.
“Thank you.” I whispered agai
nst his mouth.
“You’re welcome. Why don’t you call him back and let him know we’ll see him tonight.”
We broke apart and Victor left me in my room to make my phone call. Tonight suddenly didn’t seem like it would be the usual nightmare.
Chapter 18
How could a father treat his child the way it seemed like he’d treated her? It only reinforced my need to protect her. Let him say what he wanted about me, but he’d watch his mouth when it came to her.
A glance at the clock said it was time to go. I’d only been half-joking about showing up late. Yes, it was passive aggressive, but at the same time it would give me a tiny sense of satisfaction to make him wait for us. It would only add fuel to the fire though, and that was the last thing I wanted for Estelle.
I stood outside her room, my palms sweating like a teenager’s on prom night. She opened the door and all the blood shot straight to my cock. Estelle had curled her hair so it settled in waves over her shoulders and fanned around her perfect breasts. Her lips were cherry red. The color made me want to taste them and see if they were as sweet as they looked. Her blue eyes were big and bold and made her entire face that much more beautiful. She looked gorgeous.
Pink darted across her cheeks. “You’re staring.”
I blinked and cleared my throat. I desperately needed to adjust my straining cock but didn’t want to draw attention to the hard-on she’d given me. “Sorry. You look great.”
“Thank you.” Her smile was electric.
I needed to feel her touch, so I held out my arm. “You ready?”
Estelle slipped her arm through mine. “Not even close to it.” Nervousness coated her words.
I squeezed her hand in reassurance before we headed downstairs. “It’ll be fine. We’ll eat, drink a glass of wine, small talk for a bit, and then we’ll leave. Two hours, tops.”
I opened the car door for her, and she settled onto the gray leather seat. She stared up at me. “You have a lot more faith than I do. I really hope you’re right.”
“I am. You’ll see,” I reassured her, closing the door while she buckled her seatbelt.
Before long we were downtown. My eyes scanned both sides of the parking garage trying to find a parking spot. Nothing. I had no idea it would be this busy on a weeknight.
“Damn it,” I cursed.
“There,” Estelle pointed at the white reverse lights that glowed from a car three spaces away from us. I waited for the vehicle to pull out and then pulled in. The night hadn’t really started and I was already annoyed. It didn’t bode well for how the rest of the evening could go.
We walked hand-in-hand toward the restaurant. The night was chilly, but there were still a few people strolling the sidewalks despite it being twilight. Signs of fall and Halloween, from pumpkins to skeletons, were displayed in the brightly lit storefront windows we passed before reaching the restaurant door. Estelle stopped before we could enter. Her fingers tightened on mine.
“It’s going to be fine, remember?” I sent her a reassuring smile and rubbed my thumb across hers to try and soothe her. She returned my smile with a shaky one of her own.
“Good evening. How many?” The hostess greeted us, her voice barely carrying over the din of conversation and clatter from the kitchen. The prevalent scent of yeast rolls and garlic made my mouth water.
“We’re with the Jenkins party.” Estelle’s voice was strong and confident despite her earlier signs of trepidation.
The hostess glanced down at her podium and grabbed a couple menus. “Right this way, please.”
I followed the two women, making eye contact with everyone who glanced in my direction. Even off duty, I was always a cop. It was important to be aware of my surroundings. The restaurant was busy with almost every table and booth we passed filled. The hostess stopped in front of a four-seat, square table in the middle of the dining area. Her father sat alone, arms folded in front of him.
“George,” she greeted.
“Have a seat.” He didn’t smile. Nothing but the simple order.
I pulled out Estelle’s chair and sat next to her. I glanced over and met the same cobalt blue eyes I saw every time I looked at Estelle. So, this was her father.
The hostess laid our menus down. “Your server will be right with you.” She smiled pleasantly before disappearing.
Her father scowled. “You’re late.” That was it. Just those two words.
Under the table, she reached out to squeeze my hand. She clutched it so tightly, I could feel her nails digging in. Most likely leaving crescent shaped indentations in my flesh.
“It was my fault, sir.” I reached my free hand out for a conciliatory shake. “Victor Rodriguez. A pleasure to finally meet you.”
Now that I had his full attention, his eyes scanned over me. His handshake was quick and perfunctory. His top lip twitched, almost moving into a snarl. I read the disdain in his expression. I wasn’t bothered by it. So long as he continued directing it toward me and not Estelle.
“A pleasure.” It clearly was not.
Our waitress arrived at our table and took our drink orders before rushing off to fill them.
“So, Victor, I understand you’re a police officer.”
“Yes, sir. Seven years now.” We were a family of officers dating back to my great-grandfather, who’d emigrated here from Mexico when he was only a boy. I was proud of my family lineage and the path we’d taken.
“Must be a difficult job riding around in a car all day.”
Estelle bristled next to me. It was obvious he was trying to get a rise out of me. It didn’t work. “Yes, sir, it sure is. It does get a little easier when someone tries to shoot and kill us though.”
Jackass. Beside me Estelle coughed to hide her laugh while I stared stony-eyed at her father. He stared back, but I didn’t give an inch. A measure of triumph blasted through me as his gaze darted away from mine. He cleared his throat. His attention turned back to Estelle.
“I suppose you’re still teaching at that little elementary school.” His tone was condescending. “I thought you were going back to graduate school for your doctorate and becoming a college professor?
“That might have been something I’d thought about three years ago. Briefly. It definitely hasn’t been on my radar in any way since then.”
I didn’t think Estelle could squeeze my hand harder, but she proved me wrong. All my fingers were numb at this point.
“You could be doing so much more with your life, Estelle. Being a babysitter for someone else’s children is hardly something you should be striving for.”
“Estelle is hardly a babysitter. She’s a highly qualified teacher providing a quality education. What she does is important. I’m sure I would have turned out a lot smarter if I’d had someone of her caliber guiding me through school.” I turned my head to face her before continuing. “Her students are lucky to have someone as kind and compassionate as Estelle.”
I made eye contact with her father to drive my next point home. “If only more people were like her.”
Fuck this guy. I didn’t know if I was making things better or worse. Estelle was perfectly capable of speaking for herself, but I couldn’t sit here and listen to him disparage the job she did. One she loved. I didn’t care if he was her father.
“I knew that was you over here.” The proclamation was high pitched and slurred. We all turned at the interruption, including those at the tables nearest us, to see a blonde woman in black heels and a red dress stumbling in our direction. She carried a rocks glass in the hand she was using to point angrily at us, amber liquid spilling over the top of it
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Estelle murmured behind me.
The woman drew closer, her lipstick partially smeared, and sneered. “You can have dinner with your father, but you can’t even be bothered to call me, your own mother?”
Jesus, it was a damn family reunion. Not a pleasant one at that. Now that she was right on us, I could see the vague resemb
lance between her and Estelle. Only the years hadn’t been kind to the former Mrs. Jenkins. Dark circles were under her eyes and her skin had the tanned, leathery appearance of someone who spent far too much time in the sun or a tanning bed.
“Fancy meeting you here, Pauline.” The smug tone coloring Mr. Jenkins’ words caused me to turn. He didn’t seem all that surprised to see the woman here. I cast a quick glance in Estelle’s direction. Her expression could have been carved from stone. In fact, she didn’t even appear to be breathing.
“You know this is my favorite restaurant, asshole.” Pauline jabbed her glass in the direction of her ex-husband, more liquid spilling over the top to splash across our table. My eyes watered from the scent of liquor oozing out of her pores. She smelled like a distillery.
George smirked and tried to appear innocent. “How was I supposed to know you still came here? It’s not as those I keep track of your whereabouts.”
By now, we were the center of attention. People at nearby tables were whispering to each other and not so discreetly pointing. Another glance at Estelle told me she was barely holding it together. She was staring at her father with horror. Her entire body was rigid and her fingers were white from clutching them tightly in her lap. When had she let go of my hand?
“Did you know she was going to be here? Is that why you invited me?” The words escaped her clenched jaw. They were filled with pain she couldn’t disguise.
Her mom spun, and she drunkenly blinked down at us. “I can’t believe how ungrateful you are.”
My head snapped in Pauline’s direction. “Don’t speak to her like that.”
Her eyes flashed with hatred. “You’re that Rodriguez boy, aren’t you? The one Estelle’s been panting after since she was a teenager?”
There was a choked sob at my left.
That was it. We were done here.
I jerked my chair back and stood towering over Pauline, and George, who’d remained sitting. Judging by his smirk, he was enjoying the show. Neither of them were worth my time. I reached for the only person I cared about in this entire thing.
“You ready to get out of here?”
