Debt Collector's Due

Athena

The funny thing about being the daughter of a King Pin is that eventually, you are as much a prisoner as the people who serve beneath them. I’ve always known my father was a dangerous man. His money was made from the misery, addictions, and blood of others. Once I hit a certain age, there had been no turning a blind eye to those simple truths. Seeing it unleashed first hand, however, changed the way I viewed him. A prisoner in a pretty cage, my choices were stripped away by a man on a power trip and new circumstances.

“Mom, Are you ready?”

I smile down at the curly chestnut-haired miracle holding my hand. My baby boy keeps me going and performing this farce of a relationship with my father. Kieron Douglas doesn’t know the type of man his Papa is. Not yet, and I have no intention of bursting his baby bubble any sooner than need be. So we’re attending family dinners and outings where I curb my discontent. Refusing was a moot point. My father has no problem forcing me to do what he thinks is best. That night with Alfie changed our relationship dynamic for the worst, and no amount of time has ever healed the wound.

I try to have as little involvement with Porter Douglas as possible. I moved out of the high-rise apartment he once paid for into something less extravagant and stopped accepting his money, other than what I store away for Kieron. I grew a circle of friends of my own choosing. I keep my past and present separated as much as I can, but it’s still not enough for my liking. The little dating I’d attempted to do always ended with relationships that failed to launch.

I can’t stand the men my father approves of. Hell, I don’t even want to be associated with them, let alone begin a relationship. The ones I truly liked, he deemed unworthy. Afraid to risk their lives, I let them down easy. Until I stopped trying altogether. Maybe it was better this way. No one ever made me feel the way he had. We hadn’t begun our relationship on a whim. It’d come to pass after six painful months of denial, avoidance, and heated glances.

I always found, Alfie attractive. He arrived on the scene when I was just twenty and feeling my hormones full blast. A schoolgirl crush ensued. I mean, not only was he broad-shouldered with dark hair and sapphire blue eyes, he had a thick British accent.

Over time the crush dissipated. He became a trusted companion, sexy as hell, but clearly, friend-zoned. Then later he morphed something else entirely. The elevator chimes and I shake myself from my musings as we walk out of the lobby to the parking structure with our carry-on luggage trailing behind us. Today was the start of a weekend of fun I’d like to refer to as hell on earth. For three days I get to make nice with the man I’d come to see as the devil, while we pretended to be the perfect family out and about on the streets of Boston.

“Where are we going this weekend, Mom?”

“I have no clue, Kier. This is all your Papa’s plan.”

“I love him.”

“And he loves you,” I say gratefully when we reached our car, and I can busy myself with loading up.

I pull out of the parking lot, and join the after-work traffic. I flip on some R&B and get in the defensive driver zone. We pull up to the gate, and I enter in my code and drive through. Paranoia is the mother of invention. Of course, in my father’s case, it’s a necessary precaution. He’s made a lot of enemies over the years. It’s impossible not to when you remain in power for so long. Envy sours the most kind-hearted person, and the men he deals with have stones where their hearts should be.

Every day I wake up half expecting to hear he’s gone. My stomach gurgles. As much as he upsets me, I don’t want him dead. He’s the only parent I have. My mother died of cancer when I was five, and it’s been just the two of us ever since. It twists me up inside having things remain unsettled, but there’s no undoing the damage he’s done to me or my son.

My boy is getting to the age where he needs his father more than ever, and I’ll be damned if he follows in the footsteps of Porter Douglas. That way lies only pain, misery, loneliness, and violence. The power he wields overshadows every other aspect of his life. There’s no room for anything else. I won’t have that for Kier. I park my car in the round in front of the mansion and unlock the door. The front door opens, and my father appears. At sixty-five he still makes an impressive figure with broad shoulders, a muscular physique, and a strong chiseled jaw. His deep-set blackish-brown colored eyes twinkle with mirth and the smile that curved his lips transform him from formidable to warm.

“My babies are here.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Papa.” Kier takes off, climbing the stairs as he hugs the only father-figure he’s known tight. And who’s fault is that? His. I ignore the shrewish voice and make my ascent. He pulls me into the family hug, and I tense.

“I didn’t want to let you unpack the car. We’ll be spending the weekend in Nantucket.

“What’s the special occasion?” I ask.

“Just need some time away with the ones who mean the most to me.”

The sentimental route isn’t like him. I frown. “Dad?”

“The older a man gets, the more he realizes his mistakes in life, Athena. I want to have a genuine conversation that’s long overdue. But not here in the house. There’s too many memories embedded into the walls. It isn’t the right place.”

My heart beats a little faster. Is the elephant in the room finally going to be acknowledged? I narrow my eyes. “Dad is everything alright?” Something moves behind his eyes.

He smiles, but there’s an intense sadness to it. “I’m fine, baby girl. Just need some time with my family.”

My stomach clenches. He’s lying. A black town car pulls up behind my forest green SUV.

“I had Ryan pull the car around. He’ll drive us to the airstrip, and we’ll take the personal jet.”

There was something I didn’t like about this, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I hang back as we walk down the stairs.

“What about your things, Dad?”

“Already packed, my dear. If you hand Ryan the keys. He’ll take care of the rest.”