Stuck-Up Suit

by Vi Keeland

  “Can I help you?” Theresa squinted, and then her eyes grew wide. “Oh, my. Soraya. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

  I forced a smile. “Is my dad here?” I was suddenly panicked and wanted nothing more than to leave. Please say no. Please say no.

  “Yes. He’s upstairs fighting with the closet door that came off the hinge. I think he’s losing.” She smiled warmly and stepped aside. “Come in. I’ll go up and get him. He’s going to be so excited you’re here.”

  I stayed just inside the doorway, no different than how I would have felt entering a stranger’s house for the first time. It’s what he essentially was. A stranger. The walls were lined with family photos. My father’s new family. They were smiling and laughing in every framed shot. Not a single picture of my sister or me. I shouldn’t have come. A voice I hadn’t heard in years interrupted my internal debate to flee.

  “Soraya.” My father was halfway down the stairs as he spoke. “Is everything okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Is your mother okay?”

  That pissed me off. “She’s fine.”

  Frank Venedetta strode to me, rattling my already shaky confidence. For a second, I thought he was going to hug me. But when I folded my arms across my chest, he seemed to take the hint. “This is a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long. Look at you, you’re all grown up. You look like your Aunt Annette. You’re beautiful.”

  “I look like my mother.” His side of the gene pool wasn’t getting credit for anything good.

  He nodded. “Yes, you’re right, you do.”

  The eight years that passed had been kind to my father. He was over fifty now. A few silver flecks dotted his thick mane of black hair, but his olive skin hadn’t aged much. He was a fit man; running had been his escape when we were kids, and it looked like he had kept up with it.

  “Come in. Let’s sit.” Hesitantly, I followed him into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.” He poured us both steaming mugs and gave me a biscotti. My mother never let us have coffee when we were little. But the Venedetta side of the family was off the boat from Sicily; they thought if you were old enough to hold the mug, it should be filled with coffee. The same went for a wine glass. My best memories of my father were our mornings together in the kitchen after Mom left for work. Dad and I would sit at the table talking while we drank coffee and ate biscotti before I left for school. I even got up early in the summer to sit there with him. After he had moved out, I avoided the kitchen table in the mornings because it made me wonder if he was sharing coffee with Brianna—his new daughter.

  “So. How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  He nodded. I’d shown up on his doorstep, yet I was shutting down any conversation he started.

  A few minutes later, he tried again. “Are you still living in Brooklyn?”

  “Yes.”

  More nodding. Then a few minutes later. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I work for an advice columnist.”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  “It’s not.”

  A few more minutes passed. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Graham had called me his girlfriend the other night, yet I had never said it out loud. “I have a boyfriend.”

  “Are things serious?”

  I thought about it for a minute. They were serious. We may have only known each other for a month, but it was the most serious relationship I had ever been in. “They are.”

  My father smiled.

  “He just found out he has a daughter he knew nothing about with his ex-fiancé.”

  My father’s smile wilted. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them nodding as if it all made sense finally.

  He took a deep breath and let out a loud whoosh of air. “I made a lot of mistakes in my life, Soraya. Did things I’m not proud of.”

  “Like cheating on my mother.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Like cheating on your mother.”

  “You left us. How do you leave your children?”

  “I told you. I did things I’m not proud of.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “I regret hurting you, yes.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Do you regret the choice you made? Choosing a woman over your daughters? Taking a different family as your own and never looking back?”

  “That’s not how it was, Soraya.”

  My voice got louder. “Answer the question. Do you look back and wish you made a different choice?”

  He looked down ashamed but answered honestly. “No.”

  It felt like someone had sucker punched me in the stomach. “Did you ever love my mother?”

  “I did. I loved her very much.”

  “What if Theresa didn’t love you back?”

  “What are you asking me?”

  “Would you have stayed with my mother if Theresa didn’t love you back?”

  “I can’t answer that, Soraya. That’s not how it was.”

  “Were you and my mother happy?”

  “Yes. We were at one time.”

  “Until Theresa.”

  “That’s not fair. It’s more complicated than that.”

  I stood up. “I shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake.”

  My father stood. “The mistakes were all mine, Soraya.” He looked me straight in the eyes as he spoke his next words. “I love you.”

  Everything from the last few days was bubbling to the surface. It felt like there was a tsunami coming, and I was about to get sucked under if I didn’t run for it. So I did. I took off like a bat out of hell running out of his house. It wasn’t the most mature moment of my life, but there was no way I was letting that man see me cry. I flew past the framed family portraits, flung open the front door and bolted down the six-step stoop two at a time. My eyes were burning, throat felt like it was closing, and my chest constricted. I was so intent on getting away as fast as I could, that I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going. Which is why I didn’t see the man who was standing at the curb until I was wrapped in his arms.

  CHAPTER 18

  GRAHAM

  I BARKED AT MY DRIVER to head to Queens before I even knew her father’s address. Luckily, there was only one Venedetta in the borough, or I would have been knocking on doors. My gut told me her visit was not going to go well. Arriving on Catalpa Avenue, I had no idea if she was inside or not, so I settled in the back of my town car and waited. It wasn’t long before the front door flew open, and Soraya was barreling down the walkway toward the street. I barely made it out of the car in time to grab her; she clearly hadn’t seen me. The haunted look on her face, I wasn’t so sure she was able to see anything at all.

  She struggled in my arms at first. “It’s me, Soraya.”

  Her eyes seemed to come into focus. I watched as they filled with tears and then she melted into my arms. Her full weight leaned on me as I tightened my hold around her. “I have you, baby. I have you.” She made a gut-wrenching noise and then her body began to shake, tears streaming down her beautiful face. It physically hurt my heart. Seeing her like that, hearing that sound of pain come from deep within, it felt like someone had cracked open my ribs and gripped my beating heart in their hands only to nearly squeeze the life out of it.

  I held her as tight as I could for a few minutes while we stood in front of the house. When I lifted my eyes and saw a man standing in the doorway watching us, a man who from the looks of him was without a doubt Frank Venedetta, I decided it was time to go. “Come on, let’s get in the car.” Soraya never looked back as I helped her into the backseat. But I did. Her father simply nodded and watched us pull away.

  The ride from Queens was quiet. When her crying finally subsided, she kept her head on my shoulder and her eyes closed. I hated that this was all my fault. I’d fucked things up between us royally. Not only had the situation with Genevieve thrown a wrench into our relationship, but it had brought Soraya’s old demons back to the surface. Now she was
relating who I was back to a man who had disappointed her for most of her life.

  Stroking her hair, I finally broke our silence. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “I don’t know why I went to see him. What was I expecting him to say?”

  “It’s only natural. You’re trying to make sense of his choices because of everything going on.”

  “I guess...”

  “I know you left upset, but did he tell you anything that helped?”

  “No. He said he couldn’t tell me if he would have stayed with my mother if he hadn’t met Theresa.”

  Fuck. I shifted in my seat so we were facing each other. “Whether I have a daughter or not, even if I had not met you, there is no way in hell I would be getting back together with Genevieve.”

  “But you loved her at one time.”

  She stared down at the floor. “Soraya, look at me.” Her head lifted, and eyes returned to meet mine. “The woman cheated on me with my best friend and then didn’t tell me that I could possibly have a child. For four years. Trust and loyalty are important to me. I wouldn’t even hire someone to work in my business who I couldn’t trust, no less build a life with. We are not getting back together, no matter what.” My next words came out slow, each one given careful consideration, yet I was still cautious about saying them. “Your father could have been involved in your life while he was married to another woman. People do it all the time. He made his choices. And if you ask me, he made poor ones. I am not your father.”

  Just then, Louis, my driver, interrupted. “Mr. Morgan? Are we heading back into Manhattan or to Brooklyn? The exit for the Belt Parkway is coming up.”

  “My place or yours?” I looked to Soraya.

  I was relieved to hear a flash of my girl come back. “You’re assuming an awful lot with that question.”

  “I’m just being a gentleman. You’ve had a tough afternoon. I know the perfect remedy to make you feel better.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “It’s my duty, and I take it very seriously.”

  “You know what would really make me feel better?”

  “Name it.”

  “You, not being a gentleman.”

  The corners of my mouth twisted up while my cock hardened at the thought. I didn’t take my eyes from hers as I spoke. “To my place, Louis.” Then I whispered in her ear. “And to think, I was going to fuck you full of nice. You never cease to amaze me, Soraya. It would be my pleasure to leave the gentleman at the door and fuck you four ways dirty.”

  ***

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS, THINGS RETURNED to normal between Soraya and me. Her anxiety over the prospect of my having a child seemed to diminish. During the day, I threw myself into my work, and at night, I worked just as hard at pleasing Soraya. If she was going to be weighing her options soon enough, I needed to make her decision to cut me loose as difficult as possible. Pleasing her sexually was my favorite part of that plan.

  On Monday morning, the lab came to my office at seven to collect my DNA. They had an appointment with Genevieve to take a sample from Chloe a few hours later. I’d paid a fortune for fast results and by Wednesday, I’d be certain whether I was a father or not.

  A father.

  Having never really had one of my own, the thought in itself was a novelty to me. If it was confirmed she was mine, there was no doubt I wanted to be involved in her life. Although I had no fucking idea what that looked like. What did a grown man do with a little girl who became his child overnight?

  Monday night I had to go out of town, up to Boston for a quick meeting early Tuesday morning. My flight was delayed, and I was sitting in the airport reading the paper. Before Soraya, I started with the business section first. These days, I turned to Ask Ida, before catching up on the market watch. Between soap operas and now reading an advice column daily, I was fast becoming a pussy.

  Dear Ida,

  My mother was recently remarried. Bill, my new stepfather, has a nineteen-year-old son, whom I had never met until three weeks ago. Alec was away at college and came home to live with us for the summer. The problem is, I’m extremely attracted to Alec. I’m pretty sure the attraction is mutual since the sexual tension is so thick, sometimes it’s hard to breathe. Is it wrong to be with my stepbrother?

  -Gretchen, Manhattan

  Dear Gretchen,

  While technically you are not blood-related, there is still a familial connection and many people will frown upon a relationship between the two of you. By your writing the letter, I suspect you think it’s not right to be with Alec, and you’re looking for someone to give you permission to go against your own beliefs. My advice to you is to be true to yourself, and the rest will fall into place.

  I texted Soraya.

  Graham: I’d fuck you even if you were my stepsister.

  Soraya: LOL. You read the column?

  Graham: I do. I like to figure out which ones you have a part in responding to.

  Soraya: How can you tell which ones I responded to?

  Graham: I just can.

  Soraya: Did I write today’s response?

  Graham: Do I get a prize if I answer correctly?

  Soraya: I thought I gave you your prize last night.

  Damn. That she did. For a few minutes, while she was sucking my cock, I thought about getting my own tongue pierced just so she could feel that cold metal ball on her clit. My staff would surely think I’d lost my mind entirely if I walked into a Monday morning staff meeting tripping over my words with a swollen, bedazzled tongue. It was bad enough this morning I was smiling in the middle of the meeting when my mind wandered.

  When I didn’t respond right away, Soraya knew what I was doing.

  Soraya: You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you?

  Graham: I am. And it makes me want to leave the airport and blow off my morning meeting. Blow off for a blow job?

  Soraya: Perv. So…did I write any part of the response to poor Gretchen today?

  Graham: Not one damn word.

  Soraya: Very good. What about yesterday? The woman who was stealing from her elderly uncle’s change jars?

  Graham: Prisons are filled with people who started with petty theft.

  Soraya: OMG! How did you know? That was literally the only sentence she kept from my response.

  Graham: I know you.

  Soraya: That’s a little bit scary!

  Tell me about it. I’m scared fucking shitless these days.

  My flight had just begun boarding when my phone buzzed in my hand. At first, I thought it was another text from Soraya. My smile dropped seeing Genevieve’s name flash on the screen. I considered not answering it, but then I realized it could be about Chloe.

  “Genevieve.”

  “Graham. How are you?”

  “Busy. Is everything okay with Chloe?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “What do you want then?”

  She sighed loudly into the phone. “You’re going to have to learn to speak civilly to me. I don’t want our daughter exposed to the way you bark at me.”

  “Our daughter? You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you? The test doesn’t come back until Wednesday morning.”

  “It’s just a formality for me. I know in my heart she’s yours.”

  “How fucking nice for you. Perhaps you could have shared that little bit of information a little earlier. I don’t know…say…four years ago?”

  “Stop yelling at me.”

  “Stop calling me.”

  Another sigh of frustration. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this woman had balls. Giant ones, bigger than her head.

  “Listen. I’m boarding a plane. I need to hang up.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “That’s none of your damn business. I’m hanging up, Genevieve.”

  “Wait. I called for a reason. I want to be there when you get the results on Wednesday morning.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean,
no?”

  “It’s the opposite of yes. Perhaps you should have tried saying it four years ago when my best friend told you to spread your legs.”

  “Graham…”

  “No. We’re not a happy family waiting on the stick to show a plus sign. I’m waiting to find out if you’ve robbed me of four years of my daughter’s life. Either way, it won’t be a Hallmark moment, and you won’t be sharing it with me.”

  “I’m coming to your office on Wednesday.”

  “I’m warning you not to.”

  There had been muffled sounds of traffic in the background, and they suddenly quieted. “Genevieve?”

  The bitch had hung up on me.

  CHAPTER 19

  SORAYA

  GRAHAM WAS SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING the results of the DNA test today. Even though he hadn’t specifically asked me to be there, I wanted to surprise him. He said the results were due in sometime before noon, so I took the entire morning off from work.

  In another show of solidarity, it was time get rid of the red. I’d dyed the ends of my hair blue which Graham knew was a sign that things were going well in my life. Whether I truly believed that or not, I knew that gesture would put him at ease about us.

  Stopping at Anil’s, I picked up two buttered bagels and two juices on my way to Morgan Financial Holdings.

  Making my way through the glass doors, I no longer even bothered to check in with the receptionist. Instead, I just zipped past her and sashayed my way down to my boyfriend’s office like I owned the place.

  I could hear her scurrying behind me. “Ms. Venedetta?”

  I flipped around. “It’s fine. I thought Graham and I explained that we’re involved. You don’t need to announce me anymore.”

  “That’s not why I stopped you,” the receptionist said.

  “Okay. What is it then?”

  “Well…we…some of the employees here just wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?” I scrunched my forehead. “Why?”