Then he grins and slings a sharp punch, low into my groin. He grabs my shoulders and spins, turning my back to the wall.
I use the momentum and keep turning. Slam a punch in his gut and lift him. He swings a fist wide and I crouch.
I hold on to his belt, but he’s over the edge. I let go.
He drops without a sound, until the distant crunching thud.
First, I look at Lily. She’s fine.
Then I check the other party-goers. As far as I can tell, nobody even looked around.
Then I look over the edge. He splayed on a roof. Unless somebody heard him, he could be there for a long time.
With a hand on Lily’s shoulder, I ask if she feels okay.
“Sure,” she smiles back. “You?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The look in her eye makes my heart bang.
I pick up the guy’s leather jacket. The wallet in the inside pocket has a couple of hundred dollars, but no ID. Just a couple of pre-paid cards, a keycard from the Golden Eights, and a business card.
Handing the card to Lily, I say, “It says, ‘L.A. Squash and Sauna Club.’ But there’s no address. Just because it says ‘L.A.’ doesn’t mean a thing. It could be anywhere.”
“No, the Squash and Sauna is in L.A. That’s where Daddy goes to hold a lot of his meetings.”
“You don’t think…”
“I’m not surprised. I’d wondered all along why he wanted me to come here.”
If the news affected her, it doesn’t show.
Chapter Nine
Lily
Back in the limo, Giovani makes a call and I tell Bruno to drive.
“Anywhere in particular?”
“Just away from here.”
“Something fell off of that building just now, ma’am. While you were inside, in fact.”
“Sightseeing, Bruno. Take us on a tour.”
“Yes, ma’am. You want commentary?”
“No.”
I put the blind back up and shut off the intercom.
“Is your driver okay? I mean, can he be trusted?”
“Solid as a rock.”
“He won’t even talk to your daddy?”
“He wouldn’t be my driver if he did,” and I ask him, “Did I shock you about Daddy? How well do you know him?”
“I’ll be honest, I only talked to him on the phone one time, but he struck me as a psychopath.” He looks in my eyes, concentrating. Concerned. And caring. I could get used to that. If I had to.
He says, “It did give me a jolt when you said that, though.”
“I think they call it APD now. Antisocial personality disorder.”
“Whatever. Your daddy is an asshole, Lily. Sorry. But there it is.”
“Tell me about it. I could say things about him that would make your hair curl.”
He’s waiting. So I tell him. “I adored my daddy. More than I can tell you. Maybe like any little girl, I don’t know. It hurts me to think about it now. I knew who he was, and I knew what he was like. Or I thought I did.”
I clear my throat. “One night, he and Mommy had a fight. A bad one. He stormed into my room. I saw what he wanted. And I knew it was wrong. He knew it too. But he grabbed me. Held my wrists. They were tiny in his hand, and his hard fingers stung my skin. Rubbed it raw, and it burned. I thought my forearms were going to break. I said, ‘Stop. You’re hurting me.’ And he said, ‘I don’t care.’”
It chokes me to say it.
I take a long breath. And he’s watching me. Not judging. Just caring.
“Sorry. I haven’t told anyone about this before. I’ve carried it, but now I feel how raw it still is. That moment, it was like the whole world stopped. He looked in my eyes. I know he wanted to say something. To take it all back. To make it somehow be undone. I still believe he could have done that, if he’d only stopped two seconds earlier. Just three words sooner.”
I clear my throat. “After he said, ‘I don’t care,’ there was no getting away from it. We both knew there wouldn’t ever be a way past it.”
He moves to take my hand, but I don’t want to be held now. Somehow he understands, and he keeps a distance.
I have to finish the story. “Mom always challenged him to take a DNA test, taunting him about whether he’s really my father or not. It hurts me to say it, but I think he is. I see too much of the asshole in myself.”
He looks at me, and he waits. After a few moments I tell him, “Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look.”
Then I do let him hold me. And it feels so good. I feel safe in a way that I haven’t felt for a long time. Longer than I can remember.
I tell him, “We haven’t finished our one-and-only.”
He pulls back and looks in my eyes. With a straight face, he says, “You think you’re getting more?”