Then there’s Flip. He’s left two messages over the last few days, asking what the hell is going on. He’s obviously seen all the news about Fia. I haven’t called him back because I don’t know what to tell him. He knows me. And like Lara, he knows when I’m lying. The last thing Flip needs right now is to be worrying about me and adding to his stress.
Still, I have to come up with something because I plan to drive out to see him tomorrow, right after class. It’s my only window because I’m going to have one hell of a busy week between college, football, time at the Ranch, and Fia. Thankfully, one of our coworkers at the Ranch recommended a woman who runs an affordable daycare in her home. Lara checked all the references and stopped by to meet the lady. Thumbs up.
I don’t know what I would do without Lara. I feel like she’s the piece of my life that’s always been missing, and her fearlessness inspires me. She’s watched Fia the last three nights, and I already see them bonding, which seems to be healing old wounds. Meanwhile, people’s kindness is healing mine. Coach and his wife stopped by to check on us and offer support. Even Hector says he’ll let Lara bring Fia into work during the day if necessary.
Everyone who matters is behind me, which makes it easier to accept that others aren’t. For example, I ran into Nina yesterday as I was heading out. She took one look at me and Fia and rolled her eyes. I can’t believe I didn’t see through her earlier. She was never my friend. Just another person who wanted to use me.
As for Mike, he hasn’t been around—new girlfriend of the week—and he keeps to himself at practice. Igor is his usual self, kind of in his own world, unaffected by any drama.
On the more positive side, the public is still making donations for Fia, which means not everyone is stupid enough to believe what they hear. And I’m smart enough to be grateful for them. I plan to open a college savings account for Fia with the money so at least I know her future is taken care of no matter what happens to me.
Look at me daddying like a pro.
In the space of one week, I went from being a single man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, to being a dad who feels like he has a world full of people lifting him up. One little person and one special woman, in particular, get the bulk of the credit.
I plan to carry that positivity into tonight’s game. I’m in the starting lineup, and this time, I’m not going to drop the ball. Literally, of course.
“I’m going to kick ass tonight. Isn’t that right, princess?” I look over at Fia, who’s in her carrier on the floor, fascinated by a new purple pacifier I just bought her. Had to make a run to the grocery store to get a few supplies. Lara went back to her place to do some light cleaning since Fia and I are heading over for a late Sunday breakfast. Pancakes. I need to carb up for the game. Then Lara’s taking Fia the rest of the day and bringing her to watch me play.
My phone rings, and I answer, thinking it might be Lara checking in, but I don’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Who the fuck is this?” says a deep scratchy voice.
“You called me,” I say.
“No shit. Because this is the last number my wife called.”
Tony Rigatoni. This has to be him. My stomach tightens, and my heart rate spikes. I have to keep my cool. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. She probably dialed me by accident.”
“You talked to her for ten seconds. I got the phone right here.”
So Tony has her cell, the cell with the five thousand messages I left her. I can only hope Marli deleted them. Otherwise, we’re fucked.
“I don’t know, man,” I say. “I get spam calls all the time. They go into my voicemail. Sorry I can’t help you.” I’m about to hang up because that’s what any person would do if a stranger called asking about his wife.
“I’m gonna find you,” he growls, “and when I do, I’m gonna get the truth outta ya.”
“Look, I don’t know you. I don’t know your wife, so—”
“I gotta pair of pliers that say otherwise.”
Wow. Straight to the chase. At least he didn’t threaten me with a cheese grater. Then I’d know he means business.
“Pliers won’t change my answer. Good luck with your wife.”
“She’s dead. And you’re next.”
The call ends, and then, yes, I feel my shit start to unwind. I’m about to lose it. Stay calm, Dean. I need a clear head because clearly, I need a new plan. I have no doubt this psycho is going to track me down using my phone number. And if the rumors are true about Tony, he’s the sort of man who has the connections to do it quickly.