Once my feet are free from the constraints of my boots, I perch on the wall and pull out my phone, calling Ollie. It goes straight to voicemail, and I peek down at my watch, checking the time. He’s already started his shift. “Hey,” I say, looking up, seeing Mom pulling into the street. “My shift ran over. Another body pulled out of the cove near Byron Bay. I’m just reminding you that I’m going over to Mom’s to help her decorate her new place and browse bridesmaids’ dresses. I’ll probably stay over since you’re on duty all night. See you in the morning. Love you.” I creak my way to standing and take the steps to the sidewalk as Mom pulls up. I jump in and slump back in the seat.
“That kind of shift?” she asks, smiling across at me.
“Brutal.” I drop my boots and wriggle my toes, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “How’s your day been?”
“Brutal.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Never does these days, not since Dad fucked us over. “Plenty of men to keep me busy.”
I laugh at her candid humor. “Why brutal?”
“Fucking Danny Black,” she mutters, pulling away from the curb.
“Danny Black?” I mimic. “The Brit? He’s dead.” Has been for over a year.
“Yeah, and now every corrupt criminal fucker on the planet has seen a green light to move in on Miami.”
“Oh.”
“I popped into Hardy’s and got supplies.” She thumbs over her shoulder to the back seat, and I crane my neck to find paint. Lots of it. I sigh, and she pouts. “It’s relaxing,” she says, and I scoff at Mom’s form of winding down. “Humor me.”
“Where’s the wine?”
“Shit,” she mutters, smacking the wheel. “Wine. I knew I was missing something important.”
I smile, but it’s unsure. She’s missing many things these days. Fuck my father. “We’ll stop at a store,” I say as my phone rings. Speak of the devil. I quickly reject the call, turning it face down in my lap.
Mom gives me a side-eye. “You can’t ignore him forever,” she says gently. “He’s your father.”
“I won’t ignore him forever. Just until he finds his senses.”
“Put your seatbelt on,” she orders, and I do as I’m bid. “What if he doesn’t want to find his senses?”
How could he not? He and Mom have been together for over thirty years. “Then he’s not the man I thought he was. We were happy in New York City.”
She looks across the car at me. “You didn’t have to come to Miami.”
I give her a tired roll of my eyes. “Uncle Lawrence met Dexter and moved here. You and Dad moved here. There was nothing left in the city for me.” She knows that. And she knows I could never be in a different state to her. My father, yes, but not Mom.
“Well, everything happens for a reason. You wouldn’t have met Ollie.”
Yes, my life is moving forward, but Mom’s has gone back thirty years. “Are you saying I should be thanking Dad?”
She shrugs noncommittedly.
“He’s a narcissistic prick who’s become pumped up on power and wealth. I don’t recognize him anymore.” Did I say that out loud? Regardless, conversation over. At least, with Mom it is. In my head, I’m having many mental arguments with my father over his transgressions. The respected businessman. The respected businessman who’s been fucking another woman. Moved her into the marital home. Paraded her around town like some status symbol. She’s younger than me, for fuck’s sake.
“I’m not sure I do either.” Mom sighs. “It’s his birthday tomorrow.”
“I’ll be sure to shit in his card.”
“Come on, Beau.” She shakes her head to herself, and I see with painful clarity the internal battle she’s having. She hates him. My father humiliated her. Betrayed her. She’s a powerful woman, taking men down daily. Every criminal in the state of Florida must have winced when they got word of Agent Jaz Hayley transferring from New York City. And yet she refuses to accept me hating him.
“What wine do you want?” I ask, seeing the store up ahead. Enough about Dad. Even talking about him makes my stomach turn. I unclip my seatbelt before she stops the car and am scowled at as a result. “Sorry, Agent Hayley,” I quip, and she smacks my arm.
“Speaking of which . . .” She looks at me out of the corner of her eye.
She has my attention, and she knows it. “Did you get inside information on the results?”
Her smile says it all. “Top of the class,” she says proudly. “Fuck, Beau, you got top five percent in the country.” She pulls into a parking space and turns in her seat to face me. I’m struck dumb. Top five? I’m feeling a little emotional. The FBI Phase 1 Test has consumed me. Drained me. Sent me batshit crazy. “Well done, sweetheart.” She reaches for my cheek and wipes away a stray tear.