“Dad,” Beau says, going to him, arms out, all pacifying. She stops just short, something seeming to come to her. She looks at Danny. “Where’s James?”
“Busy,” he grunts, eyes still drilling into Amber.
Beau inhales, going back to her father. “Let’s sit down.”
“Let’s not,” Danny grunts, striding farther into the room. “Let’s give your father a few home truths so I can get back to work.”
“And what exactly do you do?” Tom asks. “For work?”
“Jet skis,” Danny barks. “Ask your girlfriend what she does.”
I suck my lip, nervous for Amber, despite hating her with every fiber of my fucked-up being.
“I know what she does,” Tom says, motioning to the subject at hand. “I know everything about her.”
“Let’s hear it then,” Danny says, moving to a couch and getting comfortable.
“What’s going on?” Beau whispers in my ear. “You know her?”
“Yes, I know her. I’m so sorry.”
“She was raised in New York by her parents,” Tom says proudly. “A heart surgeon and an eye doctor.”
“Oh, really?” Danny looks genuinely surprised, looking over to Amber who is dying right there on the spot.
“Yes. She graduated from medical school six years ago.” Tom smiles, and I cough over my tongue, restraining my laugh. Esther doesn’t bother, falling apart, being forced to set down her tray of tea. “What’s so funny?”
“I hate to piss on your bonfire, Tom,” Danny says, amused too, “but Amber here is about as qualified in medics as I am in sainthood.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s a whore.” Danny says it quietly and clearly. “A gold-digger. She fucked her way through this house, one man after the other.”
“And once pulled a gun on me,” I pipe in, like a pathetic snitching school girl. I don’t care. The audacity of this woman is off the charts, whether she thought Danny was dead or not. I don’t know what her game plan was. Maybe she hoped a new mob had moved in and she could charm her way back into their beds. Maybe she was just curious about what I might be doing with myself now. Or maybe she’s simply a brazen hussy. Whatever, Tom has been enlightened. There’s no bed for her here—over my dead body—and I doubt there will be at Tom’s house now, either.
“How does it feel knowing your precious, medical student girlfriend was once little more than a hooker?”
Poor Tom’s face is blank, and Beau’s eyes are wide, wary, and maybe a little sorry for her father. “Amber?” he says quietly, turning to her. “Tell me they’re lying.”
“They’re lying,” she rushes to say, grappling at his suit jacket. “Don’t listen to them, Tom. It’s jealousy.”
“What am I jealous of?” I ask, flummoxed. I’ve had my fair share of screwing out-of-shape, middle-aged egomaniacs. I wouldn’t go back if my life depended on it.
“Remove her now or I’ll do it myself,” Esther declares, brushing her hands off and marching out.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Tom says, looking at Amber with sorry eyes.
“What? No, Tom, please.”
He shrugs off her touch and moves away, as well as looking away, and Amber’s body deflates, an air of indignation finding her. She pulls her purse onto her shoulder. I notice it’s Saint Laurent. And then she walks, head held high, out of the room on her skyscrapers. I notice they’re Jimmy Choos.
“Make sure she leaves,” Danny says, pushing up from the couch. “Back to business.” He walks out with his men, and Tom flops to the couch, his head in his hands.
There could be two reasons for his utter despondency. First, his enlightenment, although how he ever thought a woman in her twenties would be genuinely interested in him is beyond me. Maybe Amber is as good an actress as I once was. Second, his realization of the true web of unlawfulness his daughter is tangled up in.
“Dad?” Beau moves in beside him. “Are you okay?”
“I feel like such a fool.”
“Don’t. It could have happened to any wealthy man.”
I don’t know how she’s being so compassionate. Tom left her mother for that tart. “And guilty,” he murmurs. “For everything I put you and your mother through.”
She physically recoils at that, obviously shocked to the core. “Okay.” Looking uncomfortable, she stands, clearing her throat. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I can drive,” he sighs, standing, glancing around the room. “I can’t convince you to come?”
“No, Dad,” Beau says, shaking her head.
“Why are you here?” He goes to her, his voice begging. “I don’t understand.”
“James,” she says simply, detaching his hold from her, refraining from detailing everything else. The Bear, the explosion, her uncle’s husband. And a whole heap of other shit. The man’s dealt with enough today already. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you, okay?” She drops a kiss on his cheek, leaves the room, and I follow quickly.
“Shopping?” I ask, linking arms with her.