Dad hems and haws and does his best impression of a bobblehead while stalling. Finally, he sighs. “I have a daughter named Bethany who’s six months younger than Griff. Evan, my other son, was born three days before Harlow. Both kids have different mothers. But I’ve paid for everything—”
“So what? They grew up without a father. God, you’re a selfish bastard. Forking over some cash doesn’t excuse you from bei
ng an absent parent. You had a responsibility to those kids.” And to the ones my mother gave him.
When I stare at him, he’s wearing his I-don’t-give-a-fuck expression. “A father’s responsibility is to provide. I think I’ve done that handsomely. What good would I have done by being a more involved father?”
Actually, he’s right. He would only have warped us kids more. Mom was unhappy and worn down by life, but she at least tried to be kind and occasionally affectionate. Dad made her too brittle to love us, I think. She tried her best, but he mentally belittled her and beat her down, just like he has everyone else in his life.
I, too, know exactly what it’s like to feel small and inconsequential after a chat with him. In fact, I feel like that after virtually every conversation we share.
“So what’s your next move?” I ask. “Are you actually getting divorced this time?”
He raises a brow. “I hear she’s trying to serve me with papers. I am not giving that bitch fifty percent of everything I’ve broken my back to earn. She took half the money in our checking account. Fine. It’s a pittance. But my portfolio is substantial. I’m not giving her a penny of that.”
Mom deserves it. Hazard pay for putting up with him for so many years—the mental abuse, the infidelity, the single parenting and corporate bullshit. But I’m keeping my opinion to myself. It’s not worth the argument. He’s not worth it. I can’t change the fact that this small-minded, bitter man is my father. He’s right that he gave me life and one hell of an expensive education. But I learned by his example, and I’m not proud of it. He also gave me anger and baggage and years of misplaced indifference toward most everyone around me.
“How are you going to avoid that? You can’t sidestep being served until Mom can claim abandonment. You’re talking years. You’ve never been able to stay away from the office for more than seven days.”
“I’m still working on that. Right now, I’m taking a vacation while I sort out all the legal stuff. I’m talking to a cutthroat lawyer who can ream your mother a new asshole before we ever make it to court.”
“What leg do you have to stand on?” I ask before I can think better of it. I’m outraged on Mom’s behalf.
But as soon as I’ve spoken the words, I know the dragon I’ve tried to slay for years is going to turn all his fire on me.
“Oh, because I’m the philandering prick? Because I wasn’t ‘sensitive’ and didn’t let her carry my balls in her purse? I provided for her, gave her identity and community. She was someone because she was married to me. I bought her diamonds in Paris. I made sure she became PTA president when she wanted to run. I never missed a birthday, holiday, or special occasion. You think the courts are going to punish me because I don’t believe in love?” He scoffed as if he found that laughable. “Your mother knew exactly who she was marrying when she said, ‘I do.’ She told me she would do anything to ensure she didn’t have to go back to Halsey, Nebraska, population 144, the day I met her. She was Miss Blaine County and had earned a scholarship because of it, so she’d managed to get as far as the university in Lincoln, but that wasn’t far enough from home for her. She wanted to move somewhere warm and never worry about money again. I gave that to her. She swore she’d never care who I fucked and vowed never to divorce me. In the last few months, she’s gone back on her word in every way, while I’ve lived up to every promise I ever made her. And you think I’m the bad guy here? Fuck, you’ve turned into a whiny little bitch, like I always said you would.” He stands and reaches for his suitcase. “I’m going to your brother’s. He’s got more steel in his spine. That’s why you always played first loser to his winner.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Until you pull your head out of your ass and be a man, you always will.”
I want to scream at him that I’m not a loser, but I bite the knee-jerk defense back. Instead, I hit him with something he’ll understand and respect. “Fuck you. I’m the number one real estate agent on Maui, thank you very much. I’ve earned that. Griff has been chasing my tail for the last three years.”
My dad shrugs. “Call me when you’ve made your first hundred million. Then I might be impressed. But I know you, Maxon. You lose to him every fucking time because you lack the killer instinct. Your mother coddled you too much as a kid, until I told her to stop ruining you. By then, it was too late. I even tried pitting you two boys against each other in the hopes that you’d grow some real balls. But only Griff’s got bigger because you didn’t accept that even your brother can be your enemy. Instead, you rolled over and showed him your vulnerable belly and tried to make him your friend.” He shakes his head like he’s utterly disgusted at me. “Dumb ass. What a waste. I’m going to go stay with the winner. Does Griff still live in the same place?”
I can barely digest all the ugliness in his speech. Worse, I know this is Dad’s version of truth. He really believes everything he’s saying. Mom is ungrateful because he did her one decent favor when she was nineteen. Never mind the ensuing thirty-five years of terrible. He really doesn’t understand why she’s no longer kissing his loafers. Just like he doesn’t understand that Griff and I never wanted to be at each other’s throats. My brother was simply better at hiding it, and half the time I let him win so that Dad wouldn’t berate him and tear him down. I could tell my father that, but he’d only respect me less, and he’s settled on a reality that works in his head. I’ll never change it.
“I don’t know, Dad. Griff and I haven’t spoken since a few months after you moved away.”
“Did you argue about a deal or a girl?”
Does it even matter? “Both.”
“It’s too late to tell you to wrestle that deal to the ground and hump it into submission, I’m sure. But fighting over a woman… Tiffanii?”
I have no idea why he wants to know. “Yeah.”
My father shrugs. “She might have been good in bed but she wasn’t worth losing a deal. Get your fucking priorities straight.”
I feel as if an elephant stepped on my chest. I can’t breathe. “You slept with her?”
“It was easy.” He says the words as if any idiot would have logically made the same choice. “Girls like it when you flash cash and give them attention. She was more than happy to put out in return. Don’t look at me like I just took away your toy. I didn’t think you’d care. After all, I was willing to share my mistress with you when you turned sixteen.”
God, I’d blocked that out. When Dad summoned me to his office right after I’d gotten my driver’s license, I’d hoped it was because he wanted to congratulate me, maybe finally tell me he was proud. No, he just wanted to introduce me to Danielle, his latest assistant/fuck doll. He told me that she was going to make me a man. The whole thing was both tempting and skeevy. I tore out of there, heading straight home.
“You were a pussy even then,” he barks. “When Danielle dropped her dress, you nearly pissed your pants, then ran home to Mommy. My father got me laid at fourteen, and I was damn grateful. So was your brother when I gave him your same opportunity with AnnaBeth a few years later. He was far smarter than you. I think he even came back for seconds when he thought I wasn’t looking. He’s always had the killer instinct. I don’t know how the fuck I went wrong with you.”
I can’t take any more. This whole day has been too much. Rob and Britta both threatening to quit. Then Keeley disappearing for hours…only to find out she’s kissed Griff. Hearing that it’s not a big deal to her if she has sex with my brother. And now my father dropping all his shit in my lap and making me feel like an inadequate boy all over again. Worst of all, Keeley is just on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt hearing one of the most terrible, demeaning conversations of my life. Seen through the filter of my father’s eyes, he’s still trying to man me up. But through Keeley’s lens, she knows just how tainted my soul is and why. She probably has no problem understanding the reason I was all business and bravado when she met me. And now she knows for certain that I’m not redeemable.
It’s killing
me to know that she’ll never look at me again the same way.
At the thought, every joint aches and every bone feels as if it’s about to break. But I can’t look at this hateful bastard for another second.
I pick up his suitcase and walk it to the door. “Get the fuck out.”
He stands slowly, laughing. “Look at you, suddenly all defiant. It only took you thirty-three years, Maxon. But that doesn’t change anything.” He hoists his briefcase onto his shoulder and meanders to the door, gripping his suitcase as I open the portal. “You’re still a loser, and you’re always going to be one, especially where your brother is concerned.”
“And you’re always going to be an asshole, you miserable bastard. You’re going to die alone, old and bitter, knowing that no one cares about you. And I’m going to cheer because we’ll all finally be free from your toxic cloud. I hope to fuck you’ve learned something by then. But you’re so stupidly self-important I’m not counting on it.”
I slam the door in his face and throw the latch. Finally, he’s out of my life, and I should be happy. Right now, I just feel exhausted and turned inside out.
I lean my forehead against the door and drag in labored breaths. I know I have to turn and face Keeley, who will be emerging from the bedroom any second… But I can’t catch my breath. My heart races. My fingers are tingling again. I can’t hold myself together.
I’m so fucking angry he unloaded on me, that I still feel like a kid again after being verbally whipped by the old bastard and his slurs, that Keeley will know me at my absolute weakest and worst.
No. No! Fucking no!