The Community Bar, a joint creation between himself, Terri and Josh, had been modelled on their secret paradise, and was a place for people to come and socialise.
Each time Damion came back to London, it annoyed him, seeing people’s faces permanently stuck in their phones, not talking to anyone. This gave him the idea for the new bar.
They had made the entire bar mobile-free by blocking internet and phone coverage. If they caught anyone moaning about their day, or trying to use their phone, they would have to buy all their friends a drink. If they failed to comply, they would be blacklisted for a month. As a result, a vibe of positivity bounced off the walls.
Damion looked around his creation, pleased to see his customers lounging around on couches or floor pillows, playing board games as intended, and drinking cocktails. He checked out the private areas he had created. People huddled together in the Cave drinking cocktails while sitting around a small lake. Candles bobbed on the water, their flickering light reflecting on the surface. On the ceiling, thousands of imitation glow worms shone down on them, adding to the ambience.
In another room, customers lazed in deck chairs on the beach, eating oysters served on rocks, and downing oyster shooters, another of Damion’s special recipes of course.
In the next room, six people sat in a hot tub surrounded by trees. Damion smiled, proud of what he’d achieved. A home away from home, he called it.
Tonight, Damion, Terri and Josh were to dine in the communal restaurant, a chef-led class where they cooked a meal themselves with the ingredients provided. Communal cooking could be booked out for groups on the weekends, but on weekdays it was for first-in, first-served customers.
Ten place settings were laid out with ingredients to the side. Each person would cook their own meal, following the instructions given by the chef. Tonight they were cooking sea bass on a bed of Mediterranean vegetables.
Seven other people from the bar joined them and they got started, enjoying the friendly banter. Once they had finished, they plated up a restaurant quality dish, and sat down at a banquet table, adorned with cutlery and bottles of Pinot Grigio.
Damion loved communal dining in the Community and this was a fleeting representation of it. What he would ideally like to do was open an outdoor restaurant in the middle of a field somewhere warm and do it properly. Fine Dining in the Wilderness, he would call it. They had a great evening and Damion was pleased to see their bar was doing so well.
***
The next day he drove up to Oxford to visit his parents, arriving around two. His mother greeted him with a hug, and his father shook his hand, then handed him a beer. They took their drinks into the garden and sat down at an outdoor table setting. Damion relaxed, enjoying the sunny day and happy to be home.
His mother asked the question she always asked.
‘When are you going to settle down and produce grandchildren for us? We’re not getting any younger, you know.’
A pang of guilt shot through him about their secret grandchildren. He wasn’t allowed to talk about the Community or anything about his life there and he hated keeping it from them. He resolved to bring his children home one day soon, to meet them. It was something he had been meaning to bring up with Leonora, but hadn’t want to upset her. He didn’t want his parents to give up on him, so he said, ‘Mum, it will happen one day, I promise.’
‘You’re not getting any younger either, Damion.’
‘Hey, it’s not like I have a biological clock I need to worry about! Anyway, I have some exciting news for you.’
His father piped up, ‘Don’t tell me you have a secret family stashed away somewhere?’
Damion laughed, not wanting to lie to his father. ‘Well I kind of do. Do you remember Camilla, from school?’
‘Of course we do, you two were inseparable. Whatever happened to her?’ his mother asked.
‘We drifted apart when we finished school. She went to Oxford and I went to Cambridge...’
‘What a waste of a scholarship,’ his father butted in, ‘you were only there for six months then you dropped out. You surely must regret not becoming a lawyer.’
‘Dad, you know I’ve done well for myself. My London bars are more than successful, and I still get royalties from my cocktail book.’
‘Still, a waste of brains as far as I’m concerned.’
His father’s attitude frustrated him. Damion, now in his mid-forties, was still being treated like a child. Every time his father had a few too many beers, he started going on about what a mistake he’d made, dropping out of university. But then again, his parents didn’t know the full reason why he’d dropped out. He decided it was time to tell them.
‘Edward, give the boy a break. We don’t see him often,’ her mother said, and his father mumbled something under his breath.
‘Do you see what I have to live with?’ she said. ‘He’s turned into a grumpy old man lately.’
‘Doesn’t help that you’re always moaning at me,’ his father replied, ‘I can’t do anything right these days. Nothing’s ever good enough for you.’
Damion sat back and listened to his parents bickering. He wasn’t worried; this was normal behaviour for them and their way of communicating. He guessed that after forty-four years of marriage they had run out of things to talk about. No wonder his mother wanted grandchildren.
After he considered they’d had enough ‘communicating time’, he cut in and said, ‘Oi, you two, knock it off. I didn’t come all this way to listen to your bickering.’
They both stopped and looked at him, guilty expressions on their faces at having been chastised like children.
‘As I said earlier, I have some exciting news for you. There’s a reason behind why Camilla and I broke up, and why I dropped out of university.’
They waited like well-behaved children, allowing him to continue.
‘Camilla got pregnant soon after we finished school.’
Her mother gasped. ‘And you didn’t tell us?’
‘I was embarrassed. She told me she’d had an abortion.’
His mother’s hands flew up and stifled another gasp.
‘I was livid so I ended things with her. It wasn’t something I wanted the world to know.’
‘Oh Damion, that’s terrible,’ his mother cut in.
‘I found out later on though, she didn’t have an abortion. She carried the baby to full term, then gave her away to a family in America.’
‘Her? I have a granddaughter out there somewhere?’ his mother squealed.
‘Yep, and Camilla has given me the details of her adoptive parents. I’m going to try and find her.’
Chapter 12
Damion sat in Josh and Terri’s home office trying to get the words clear in his head before making the phone call. An actress friend of his might be able to help him, but they hadn’t parted on the best of terms the last time he saw her. Before moving to the Community, his friend had taken on an acting job which involved deceiving Terri. He would never forgive her for it, but he had to appear friendly if he wanted her help. He dialled her number and hoped for the best.
‘Vanessa Woodbine speaking.’
‘Vanessa, it’s Damion Parker here, how are you?’
‘Oh Damion, how are you? Long time no see. Where have you been hiding these days?’
‘Just hanging about, working on another project.’
‘Ooh, do tell. Another amazing Soho bar? Or something else.’
‘Top secret at the moment I’m afraid. It’s kind of a long term project.’
‘I’m intrigued... so what can I do for you?’
‘Have you heard of a movie executive by the name of Peter Willows? From LA?’
There was a pause at the end of the line before Vanessa repeated the name. ‘Hmmm, Peter Willows... strangely enough, it does ring a bell, but I can’t recall from where. It’s been a while since I lived in LA... early 90s in fact. Why do you ask?’
Damion filled her in on the story of his daughter being adopted out to Pete
r and Felicity Willows in California, and how he was trying to track her down.
‘Sounds intriguing, Damion. I have a friend in the industry over there who might be able to help. His name is Kevin Milosh. Have you got a pen handy?’
Damion scrambled around until he found for a pen and paper. ‘Yep, go!’
‘He never answers his phone so I’ll give the name and address of his office, you might have better luck getting a hold of him there. Tell him I sent you. Hopefully he’ll know the person you’re looking for.’
Vanessa gave him Kevin’s details and they said goodbye.
***
Later that day, Damion threw his phone down in frustration. Vanessa was right, Kevin Milosh was a hard man to get hold of. He’d tried dialling his number multiple times, but each time it disconnected, as if he was being blocked. He’d also tried calling his office, but they wouldn’t transfer him, so all he could do was leave a message.
He gazed down at the address Vanessa had given him. It looked like he would be going to America after all.
Chapter 13
Damion booked the first available flight to Los Angeles. The flights were expensive at short notice, but he didn’t mind, as finding his daughter was important to him.
The next day, he said goodbye to Terri and Josh then caught a chauffeured car to Heathrow. His heart skipped with the excitement of flying to Los Angeles. Although he loved living in the Community with Leonora and his children, he missed the buzz and excitement of the ‘real’ world.
The plane departed at 4.15pm on Thursday afternoon and landed at Los Angeles just after 7.00 pm the same day. It never failed to impress him how a twelve hour flight only took three hours.
As soon as he checked into his hotel, he went up to his room, lay down on the king sized bed, and relished in the soft, luxurious duvet with feather pillows. He called room service and ordered a hamburger and a bottle of champagne. An odd combination, but he didn’t care; he planned to lap up all the luxury he could.
The next morning he dressed in a suit and caught a cab to the address Vanessa had given him. Damion took in the sights and sounds as they cruised down the freeway, the traffic moving at a reasonable pace. After a twenty minute journey, they drew up outside a glass office block. Damion paid the cab driver, then stood on the pavement a moment, gathering his thoughts.
The building in front of him could hold the information he required to find his daughter and his belly rumbled with apprehension. He swallowed his nerves and strode with purpose towards the entrance.
With confidence, he approached the reception desk.
‘Hello, I’m Damion Parker and I’m here to see Kevin Milosh.’
The receptionist tapped on her computer, then glanced at him. ‘I’m sorry, but Mr Milosh is currently out of the office.’
‘Can you tell me when he’ll be back?’
She clicked around on her keyboard a while longer. ‘He’ll be out for two weeks.’
He heard an elevator ding. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the doors open and a man step out and walk towards reception.
The receptionist addressed the man, ‘Hello Mr McKintyre, I have a package for you, one moment,’ she said, then turned to retrieve it.
After she handed over the package, Damion asked the receptionist if she knew Peter Willows.
She tapped on her computer again. ‘Sorry, no, he doesn’t work here.’
Damion thanked her for her help and was about to leave, when the elevator man approached him.
‘Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but overhear you asking about Peter Willows?’
‘Yes,’ Damion replied, ‘Do you know him?’
‘I’d like to know what your business is with him.’
Damion eyed him up, wondering whether he could trust him or not.
‘I’m afraid it’s personal, but I’d appreciate it if you could tell me where I could find him.’
‘How about we grab a drink and discuss it further,’ the man said.
An uneasy feeling came over Damion, but did he have any choice? No, he didn’t think so.
‘Sure,’ he replied.
‘Great, my name’s Bob McKintyre.’ He thrust his hand in Damion’s direction.
Damion shook his hand and replied, ‘Damion Parker.’
Bob asked the receptionist to hold his package, then left the building with Damion.
They entered a bar on the other side of the street. ‘What would you like to drink?’ Bob asked.
‘I’ll have a beer thanks.’
Bob ordered a beer for Damion and a whiskey, neat, for himself.
‘So Damion, where are you from? Do I detect an English accent?’
‘I’m from London.’
‘And are you here on business?’
Damion decided to be honest with the man. ‘I’m looking for my daughter.’
Bob raised his eyebrows. ‘And what business do you have with Peter Willows?’
‘I believe he adopted my daughter.’
Did a flash of pity cross Bob’s eyes? Damion wasn’t sure, but an uneasy feeling descended over him.
‘Does she know you’re looking for her?’
‘No, she has no idea. The only lead I have is Peter Willows and his wife Felicity.’
‘Well, I’ve got some bad news for you Damion.’ He took a sip of his whiskey. ‘Bad news indeed.’
‘Do you know the family?’
Bob looked at him closely.
‘Yes, I knew them well. Alice was a nice kid, the same age as my daughter. She didn’t know she was adopted though. Her parents refused to admit it, even though it was obvious to everyone else. You see, her parents both had ginger hair and freckled complexions. Alice on the other hand, had olive skin with dark hair and eyes like yours. She didn’t have your large nose though. That’s quite a honker you have on you!’
Damion, taken aback by his abruptness, wondered why he would say such a thing. Nobody had mentioned his big nose since his school days where they used to call him nosy-parker. It never bothered him back then though; he’d always been confident enough to laugh it off. Except for one time, when one of the kids wouldn’t let up about it so he’d punched him in the nose, breaking it. It put an end to the teasing at least, so to hear it mentioned now took him by surprise and it took every inch of willpower not to punch Bob in the nose.
But he knew his daughter, so upsetting him wouldn’t help.
‘Can you tell me where I can find them?’
‘Well, no, that’s the problem,’ he said, pausing for effect. ‘You see, a terrible accident happened about fifteen years ago.’
The blood drained from Damion’s face.
‘Is my daughter okay?’
‘Slow down, let me finish.’ He took another sip of his whiskey. ‘As I said, there was an accident and Peter and Felicity were killed in a car crash.’
Damion’s heart pounded against his ribcage.
‘Oh my God! Is my daughter okay?’
‘I couldn’t say what happened to Alice, but it was a terrible state of affairs.’
‘So she wasn’t in the accident?’
Bob shook his head.
Relief washed over Damion, and he took a deep breath. ‘So do you know where I might find her?’
‘Hold your horses, I haven’t finished the story.’ He took another sip of whiskey as if to drag out the suspense on purpose.
‘After they died, some dreadful secrets came out of the woodwork. Peter had been involved in some dodgy dealings. He had conned a lot of people including myself and I lost a great deal of money. It didn’t come to the surface until after his death, leaving him in bad debt. Even the sale of his Beverley Hills house didn’t come close to paying it off.’
‘So what happened to Alice?’ Damion didn’t want to hear about anything else, only about his daughter.
‘Her only family was her father’s cousin in Kentucky. He put up his hand to take care of her, expecting to get a large cut of the family fortune, but of course that
fell flat. Alice didn’t want to move, but she had no choice as nobody wanted anything to do with her after her father’s affairs were out in the open.’
‘So, she’s in Kentucky?’
‘She moved there over fifteen years ago. Whether she’s still there or not, I couldn’t tell you.’
‘Do you know where exactly?’
‘I can’t recall. You could try searching for her foster father, Nat Willows. I remembered his name because my father was called Nat.’
Damion thanked Bob for his help, raced back to his hotel and googled Nat Willows on his phone. Two hours later, he threw his arms up in frustration, finding no sign of a Nat, Nathan, or Nathaniel Willows fitting the description.
He thought about catching a flight directly to Kentucky, but he had no idea which city to fly to. Loving to drive, he decided on a road trip instead. A friend from school lived in San Diego, so he’d make a diversion to visit him, hoping he could help.
Chapter 14
Damion sang along to Hotel California at the top of his voice as he drove along the coast in his rented Mustang convertible. People might have looked at him strangely, but he didn’t care. Nothing could ruin this moment as the sun beamed down on him, the warm breeze messed up his hair, and the throbbing v8 engine propelled him towards San Diego.
At mid-afternoon he pulled into his friend Doofy’s house in La Jolla, about thirty minutes short of San Diego. The two of them had been friends since their school days, and had kept in touch ever since. They had the sort of relationship where they could go for years without seeing each other, then immediately pick up where they left off.
Doofy lived with his partner Chas, their house overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He’d made a fortune as an IT specialist, enabling him to retire early. It was also rumoured he’d been a professional hacker, but that was just hearsay.
Doofy greeted him at the door and embraced him in a man-hug. He hadn’t changed much since school, still scruffy and unshaven. He wore baggy shorts and a ripped T-shirt with the label sticking out at the back.
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