I swear I didn’t mean to ask it the way I did, but the word just came right on out of my mouth like I was pouring syrup out of a bottle. “Why?”
She tried her hardest to mask it, but I could see her flinch. “Because—” She cleared her throat. “—I’d like to speak to you.” Her gaze moved to Jonah and back to me. “I’d like you to know my half of the story too.”
The words seemed so shallow, all I could do was look at her and feel the weight of Jonah’s hand settle even heavier on my lower back.
Her half of the story? That’s what this was about?
“You are my granddaughter,” the woman said when I just stood there and looked at her.
Okay, I could say this a little nicer. Just a little. “Well, yeah, technically. Biologically.” I squinted my eyes because I couldn’t keep that much of the smart-ass out of me. It was in me like I knew I had A positive blood. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings or anything, but I don’t really care to hear your half of the story, as you put it.”
She didn’t wince or flinch or anything, this woman who looked more and more like me with every second I looked at her. Instead, she lifted her chin up higher. Her fucking nose too. “Well, I think it would be fair if you gave me the opportunity to explain what happened.”
I understood suddenly why my grandpa hadn’t told her to fuck off when she’d shown up to ask him for advice, or whatever bullshit had led her to showing up to Maio House. I really did. But the thing was, I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t give a shit about this woman who had never given a shit about me.
But for them, for them I would try and do this as politely as possible. Because I would never want to do anything to hurt them.
And this woman had the opportunity to do that if she wanted.
“Look, you haven’t been in my life in thirty years. You’ve had zero interest in it. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. You haven’t wanted to know me, and I’m fine with that. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” I said, wishing that I had my stress ball with me.
I couldn’t believe this bitch.
“It isn’t that I haven’t wanted to know you,” she tried to argue.
“How many times have you come to Houston over the last thirty years?”
That had her face going slack, her eyes brightening, her nostrils flaring. To give her credit, she answered. “Every few months.”
Every few months.
Wow.
I couldn’t help the smile that came over my mouth as I made sure to keep my gaze on her instead of looking at Jonah. I had to straddle this line as cleanly as possible. For Grandpa. For Peter. For Maio House. “I know why you got divorced. I understand, and I don’t blame you. Neither does Grandpa Gus. But I just don’t care to hear whatever it is you want to tell me. Not when you’ve come to Houston who knows how many times over the course of my life and not cared to contact me. Not when you went to Maio House and didn’t make an effort then either, and the only reason I saw you was because I got curious and showed up. I know I’m not important to you, and I’m fine with it. You just don’t want me to think of you as the bad guy. I get it.”
My grandmother, because that’s what she was, blushed. I could see the hesitation—the anger—in her eyes. Yet somehow she managed to lower her voice as she said, “Your grandfather lied to me.”
“But I didn’t.”
“You don’t understand,” she tried to argue.
“No, I do. I’m a mom now too, and I understand better than you will ever imagine, Rafaela. You didn’t want anything to do with me or my dad, and you never will. How much more do you want to rub that in?”
Chapter 18
Subject: IMPORTANT
Lenny DeMaio:
Wed 3/22/2019 1:29 p.m.
to Jonah Collins
Jonah, please. For real. Call me back.
Email me back. I don’t care, but I really, really need to talk to you.
I don’t want or need anything: I just have to tell you something important, and I don’t want to do it over email.
“But I did pay.”
I stared at the phone sitting on my desk and pictured the face of the man on the other end of the line. A man I couldn’t stand half the time I had to deal with him. Then again, anyone who continuously lied to me annoyed the fuck out of me. He did this shit every other month. I took a deep breath in through my nose and let it back out again, feeling all my facial muscles get tight. “Damon.” I sighed. “Do you know how many times you’ve said those words to me?”
What that question got me was silence on the other end.
“I just checked Pablo’s bank account”—that was one of my rare lies—“and nothing has been deposited. It isn’t some magical glitch in the computer system that the payment didn’t go through. You haven’t transferred the money. Why do you put me through this every single time Pablo fights?” I asked him, leaning back against my chair and staring blankly at the wall in front of me in exasperation.
“Look, Lenny, I sent my assistant over, and she said she made the deposit.”
What was this? 1990? We both knew he was full of shit. She could have mailed a check if he was being cheap, wired the money if he wanted to spend the fee, or used one of those apps to transfer money across banks. I used that shit all the time.
“Let me ask her to check the deposit receipt, and I’ll call you back. You know I’m good for it, and tell fucking Pablo to call me if he’s got a problem,” the man tried to throw.
I gripped the cord of my work phone in my free hand and shook my leg under my desk. “He did call you. I saw it. He called you five times last week.” Silence. “And I know that you’re good, but you’re good at paying two months late instead of two weeks later like you’re supposed to. If your assistant deposited money into wrong bank accounts, you would have fired her the day after you hired her. Don’t play the dumb game with me. Come on, I know I don’t look that stupid.”
There was another beat of silence before a rough, short bark of laughter filled the line. “Jesus Christ, Lenny. If you ever want to come work for me, I’ll have a position open for you.”
That got a snicker out of me.
The promoter laughed some more. “Listen, the money will be in there by five, all right?”
“Uh-huh. I hope so.”
“It will,” he tried to assure me like I hadn’t known him for the last ten years. “Tell Gus to give me a call, would you?”
That had me smiling at least. “Ooh, now I know you’re for sure going to make the deposit if you want me to bring you up in front of Grandpa.”
He laughed again.
“I hope I don’t talk to you later, Damon. Bye.”
“Bye, Lenny,” the promoter on the other end muttered before hanging up.
I dropped the phone into the cradle with a snicker.
“I didn’t know you managed athletes.”
Damn it!
The back of the chair I was leaning in went back even further when my whole body jerked at the sound of the voice that had come out of fucking nowhere. I threw my arms out at my sides to grab onto the desk, or something, anything so that I wouldn’t tip the seat back and fall out of it.