by Alora Kate
“Yes, I am.”
“Fine. I’m napping with you since we shut the work phone off, but we’re talking about this later.”
“Fine.”
###
“We have two messages, possible new clients,” Alexa said waving the messages in her hand. “I can call them, set something up for tomorrow.”
Life must go on.
It sucks.
“Yes, and then we’re making calls and getting as many envelopes as we can.”
“Distraction!” she sang out, twirling around in the middle of the living room.
“What would I do without you?” I asked from the kitchen watching her longs legs spin in perfection. She always wanted to be a ballerina but never had the chance. She took lessons a few years back, and that was enough to fulfill her passion for dance. Now she just dances around the apartment.
“You’d fall apart.”
“I probably would.”
She smiled, stuck the messages in her purse, and danced her way to me. She put her hands on my cheeks. “What should we do for dinner?”
“Mexican,” I replied.
“Margaritas!”
I nodded. “Definitely margaritas!”
We dressed to leave, and Alexa kept it casual with me by wearing jeans and a tank top. We took a cab, and she distracted me the entire time. She talked about the weather, her mom, our business, and how well the year had been. We talked about Tapper Low and the time she spent with him last year. She said she spent a few weeks with him and then moved on. I knew she liked him, but Alexa wasn’t much for staying with one guy for too long. As soon as she started developing feelings for a guy, she’d run. She was afraid of having more. She was afraid of rejection and being let down. The same things she lived with all her life because of her mother.
After we got to the restaurant and ordered, she Googled him to find out what happened. He was in Vegas for a fight, a title match that he won. He was out celebrating his win with some friends when things went south. A group of guys, the report said, followed Tapper and his entourage throughout the night. Tapper was attacked by a group of six, who reportedly lost thousands in his fight. The article went on to say that there was an altercation inside the restroom of the bar both parties were at when Tapper was attacked. During the altercation, one of the men pulled a gun and blindly shot him in the stomach before fleeing the scene. Tapper was found unconscious in the bathroom, bleeding from his stomach with multiple contusions on his face. Significant trauma was observed to the left side of his face and head. As it turned out, the exit wound damaged his spine, and his cheekbone was crushed, resulting in surgery. He’d never walk again, never fight again.
“So, I was thinking I should sneak in and talk to him,” she said after we ate.
“Tapper?”
“Yes. I need to apologize for staring. It wasn’t because of his scar or the chair, Ki, you know that. I just couldn’t believe it. At first, I didn’t think it was him, but then he spoke. And I feel horrible.”
“Not to be rude, Lex, but I don’t think he recognized you.”
“Doesn’t matter. I feel awful.”
“If you feel like you have to apologize, then do it.”
“I’ll have to see if I can sweet talk someone who works in the therapy room and see when he’ll be there next.”
“You’re very good at that.”
“Sure am.” She smirked.
Chapter 28 – Prescot
Two weeks.
Two steps.
“Almost done,” Barry, my physical therapist, said.
Two fucking steps.
That’s all that was left of my day.
I’d been walking back and forth for an hour using the poles instead of my cane.
My feet moved.
Legs.
Arms burned.
Chair.
“You’re one determined man, Prescot.”
He always said that.
Two weeks.
I missed her.
Ki.
Work.
Walking.
“You’ll be out of this chair sooner than I thought.” He started pushing me across the large therapy room.
Tapper Low.
I saw his last match.
He was here a lot.
He wanted to walk again.
Fridays were the worst days to be in this room.
Too many people.
It stunk.
They released me yesterday.
Home nurse.
She didn’t stink.
She’s young.
Like Ki.
Fuck.
I’ve tried to call her.
I never hit the button.
I just stare at my phone.
She stopped bothering me.
She gave me space.
Too much.
For as smart as I am, I’m an idiot.
The pain is dull, but still there.
My thoughts are the same.
New thoughts.
Old memories.
My head is too busy.
Too much information.
I was driving myself mad.
I did this to myself.
Her voice.
So sweet.
Kind.
Caring.
Simple.
Hypnotic.
Ki.
I stood with a cane and slid into the town car that was waiting for me.
Fucking cane.
I chucked it aside.
I ran my hands through my hair and felt the scar the staples left on my scalp.
I wish they would have taken the pain away.
I needed more tattoos.
Doves.
Peace.
Solace.
Ki.
She gave me peace.
I tossed it away.
Stubborn asshole.
Me.
Stubborn.
Fuck.
“Mr. Bale,” the nurse said meeting me at the curb with the wheelchair.
I didn’t give her my words.
My words belonged to Ki.
Elevator.
Movement.
Ki stole my thoughts, my words.
Hypnotic.
She helped the madness, and I tossed her away.
She didn’t even know.
But she gets me.
Ki.
Work. Molly. Thomas. I had work to do.
After my meeting with Thomas, I’d walk.
I walked in my room, alone.
With and without the cane.
I’ve only fallen a few times.
But I keep trying.
For her.
Chapter 29 – Ki
Alexa flew through the door and slung her purse at her desk. “I’m done.”
“It didn’t go so well?”
“I’ve tried to apologize twice to that man, and he keeps telling me to fuck off, that he doesn’t remember me.”
“Maybe it’s true?”
She huffed and sat in her chair, and pulled her phone out of her purse to inspect it. “Shit, I forgot it was in there.”
“Did it survive your wrath?”
“Looks fine,” she mumbled tossing it back in her purse. “I’m done.”
“You said that.”
“For good this time.”
“Okay,” I said smiling at her.
“Seriously, Ki, I mean it this time.”
“I believe you.”
She smiled. “No, you don’t.”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
I stood and said, “So, this looks okay?”
“To meet your father? Yes, Ki, it’s just jeans and – wait, is that my white blouse?”
“Yes, it looks good, right?”
“Duh,” she said sarcastically. “It’s mine.”
Today was the day I was going to meet with my father. My biological father. A drug lord; a man who was into a lot of bad things according to Lucas, who
I haven’t spoken to in weeks. I hated that about him, my father, but I was trying not to judge the man. He was my father, and he was sick. My mother hasn’t returned my calls, so a week ago I stopped leaving messages. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t. At this point, it didn’t matter. The DNA test proved he was my father, and that’s all that really mattered. I loved my mom, they just didn’t seem to love me back.
Their loss.
I pulled out a grape sucker and sat back down, waiting for him to show up.
“Are you nervous?” she asked but didn’t wait for me to answer. “You’re nervous. You got a sucker out.”
I pulled the sucker out of my mouth. “Very nervous.”
She scooted her chair over to me and got serious. “Are you going to ask me?”
“Ask you what?”
“If I saw him.”
“Nope.”
“You did last time I went to see Tapper.”
“And this time I’m not.”
“But you should ask.”
“I don’t want to know, Lex.”
“I think you do.”
I put my sucker back in my mouth and turned my chair so I was facing my desk and continued to enjoy my treat.
“He was leaving when I got there,” she rushed out. “Looked like he was lost in thought.”
“Okay.”
The man was always lost in his thoughts, and I liked that so much about him. It made him who he was. A non-complicated man who was brilliant, great at his job, and for a brief moment in time, liked me.
Molly called a few times to fill me in, but it hurt too much that it wasn’t coming from him. I was happy to hear he was getting better. He put his big fat ego aside and was recovering with the help of therapy.
I really did miss him.
So, the last two weeks I’ve been working like crazy and watching a ton of shows to pass the time. I scrubbed every inch of the apartment. I bought a new bed set that was white and had peonies all over it. I finished Jewel’s book and bought a few more of hers, which I also finished. I did everything I could to pass the time and keep me from thinking of Prescot. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes I drank wine and let a few tears fall.
I finished my sucker and started tapping my fingers on my desk. The sun started to set, but it wasn’t dark out yet. I watched a few people walking outside as cabs came and went up and down our street. I was waiting for a town car to show up. I wasn’t sure if my father was coming or if I’d be meeting him there. I wasn’t even sure where I was going. Lucas was out there somewhere, and I’m assuming he’d be with me tonight, hiding in the shadows.
“Is he late?” she asked, and I saw her walk toward the door.
I grabbed my purse and stood by her. “Few minutes.”
“I hate it when people are late.”
“Same.”
“He’ll show.”
I chuckled. “He better or he’s not getting my bone marrow.”
“It’s funny, and it’s not.”
“I know.”
She pointed. “Looks fancy.”
“They all look the same,” I commented when the car slowly stopped in front of our door. The driver, wearing all black, got out and came around the back of the car to open the back-passenger door.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?” she asked, and I turned to her.
“I’m a big girl.”
She hugged me. “I know but still, Ki, this is huge.”
“Totally huge,” I whispered in her ear and let her go.
“Oh shit,” she muttered, and I turned to look out the window.
It wasn’t my father.
It was Prescot.
Standing next to the car with a cane.
I rushed out of the door, and I knew Alexa was behind me.
“Ki,” he growled out in the most apologetic way.
God, I missed the way he said my name.
I went to him, and he knew what I wanted. He bent down, I got on my tiptoes, and our mouths locked. I missed him so much. I tried not to cry when he kissed me harder, or when his hand snaked around my waist.
“What are you doing here?” I asked against his lips.
“I couldn’t call.” His blue eyes were dark and sad. He held my gaze, his eyes saying everything that I knew he couldn’t. I felt his sorrow for the time we missed together, the pain he felt when he rejected and pushed me away. I felt his hurt and frustration toward his body not performing as he wanted it to. I felt the torment and guilt he had put himself through over these last few weeks. I felt his anger at himself for not being able to say what he thought I wanted to hear. But what Prescot didn’t understand was that I didn’t need words with him. His eyes told me everything, his lips begged for my forgiveness, and I gave it to him, without hesitation.
“This means more.” I placed a small kiss on his lips, and then he adjusted his cane and I stepped back. “I’m glad you’re walking again.”
“A little.”
“I like your cane.”
“It’s black.”
“I still like it.”
He smiled.
I smiled back.
I had my Prescot back.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“You better.” I looked away as another town car pulled up behind his, and my smile fell. I had to leave.
“I have plans, Prescot.”
He looked at the car and then back to me. “I’m sorry, Ki, I should have called.”
I put my hand on his arm. “This was better, but I made plans with my father.”
“You’re telling him?”
“Yes, and he suggested dinner.”
I watched my father stand from the car and button his suit. One of his bodyguards also stepped out of the car behind him. My father nodded at me, and I gave him a small smile.
“Can I come over tonight?”
Prescot gripped my hand. “Please.”
I leaned up and gave him one last kiss and then walked toward my father.
“Invite him, Ki. I’d like to meet him.”
“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” As much as I wanted to bring Prescot, I hadn’t seen him in weeks. It felt like we were going to be okay, but this wasn’t the right time. There was a lot Prescot and I needed to talk about before we moved forward.
“It’ll be fun,” he said patting my shoulder and walking passed me. I turned and watched him and Prescot shake hands and exchange words; well, my father did but Prescot did nod a few times.
Alexa was inside making all kinds of hand gestures and funny faces at me. Another distraction. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and shook it at her. She nodded and left to go get hers.
I sent her a text and then shoved it back in my pocket when my father started walking back to me. “He’ll meet us there.”
I looked at Prescot who had his back to me, getting into the car. After we were settled inside, I shot a message to Prescot apologizing for the ambush. That’s what it felt like. My father’s two bodyguards were sitting across from us, and I’ve never been so intimidated in my life.
“How have you been, Ki?”
“Fine,” I replied, waiting for Prescot to reply.
“Thank you for having this meeting with me.”
Meeting was the word all right. I was so uncomfortable.
My phone vibrated, and it was a message from Alexa, Awkward!!!
I replied, No Shit!
“I found a nice Italian restaurant; do you like Italian?”
“Yes.”
More awkward silence while I waited to hear from Prescot. Maybe he didn’t have his phone with him, but I highly doubted that. I should have gone with him.
Why didn’t I ride with him?
“Is something wrong?” my father asked as the car came to a stop at a red light.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“This is awkward. Prescot and I had, well, we took a break and tonight he s
howed up unexpectedly, and then you invited him to dinner. He said yes because he wanted to protect me, and I hope because he missed me. In all honesty, I’d rather be spending my night with him.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t know you either, Mr. Erbach, so it’s going to be a very uncomfortable night. I told Prescot about you, but again, we kind of just got back together.”
“I’d love to cut our night short, Ki, but I don’t want to. Regardless of the fact I need your bone marrow, you’re my daughter. I never wanted kids, and now I have one. I’ve missed so much of your life,” he paused and I said nothing because I felt bad for being rude. “You don’t have to call me father or visit me on holidays. I just ask for some of your time which you’ve granted me tonight, and I’ve been looking forward to it since we made plans.”
“I’m sorry if I was rude. I don’t know how to act around you.”
“Act like yourself.”
“That I can do.”
Prescot was waiting outside of his car when we arrived, and I let myself out and went to him. “You didn’t text me back.”
“I wanted to come, Ki.”
“This is the first time I’m actually having a conversation with him.”
“Right.” He glanced at my side, and my father spoke, “I’ll meet you both inside.”
He walked away, and I hugged Prescot. I listened to his heartbeat for a few seconds then said, “This is so weird.”
“I’m here,” he said kissing the top of my head.
“It helps,” I replied, looking at his cane. “Your legs okay?”
“I should sit soon.”
We held hands as we slowly walked inside. As soon as we were in, I was overcome with a feeling of warmth. The scent of homemade fresh bread, tomato sauce, thick, cheesy pasta, and beef cooking made my stomach rumble. A huge mural of Venice, Italy was painted behind the host station, with greenery dispersed sporadically to make the mural come alive. Soft acoustic music played in the background, the guitar notes hitting a beautiful melody. Someone was there to greet us and showed us to a table. The restaurant was dimly lit, with short white votive candles perched on each table. Crisp, white linens covered the tables, which contrasted to the shiny red vinyl that covered the booth cushions. A mixture of booths and tables dotted the large dining area, and beyond it, wooden swinging doors that led to the kitchen and a sizable wooden bar with wine glasses hanging from the top. I looked around and all the booths that lined the wall were empty. There was one bartender at the bar, and one person standing at the table in the middle of the room, where my father was standing. Waiting.