by Vi Keeland
“Okay?”
I nodded. “Second base later, but don’t try to slide home.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m about to meet your mother. Could you please not use words like sliding home? I’m already at enough of a disadvantage being a Truitt, I don’t need her to think I can’t even control my own erections.”
I looked down. “Yeah…about that…”
Dex was acting weird. I wasn’t sure if he was pissed I decided not to tell my mom who he was before he arrived or if just being at my mother’s made him feel uncomfortable, in general. But his body language was stiff, and I could see the tension in his face. He was also being unusually quiet. When my sister called to check in on the girls, Mom went to the living room to put them on the phone, and I took the opportunity to feel out Dex while I put the flowers he brought my mom in a vase with water.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.”
I furrowed my brows. “Why do I feel like you’re upset with me? Are you angry because I didn’t tell my mother who your father is yet? Because I was planning to…I still am. I guess I was just stalling and ran out of time and then thought I really want her to get to know you for you and not be tainted by something that has nothing to do with the person you are.”
Dex closed his eyes. “It’s not that.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
“What’s your mom’s first name again?”
“Eleni.”
“I recognize her. I didn’t go to my father’s office often, but I must have met her at one point because as soon as I saw her I knew I’d seen her before.”
“Well, she didn’t seem to recognize you. Does that make you uncomfortable that you know who she is, but she doesn’t really know who you are? Because I’ll tell her right now if you want.”
“Do you see the irony in that question?”
I hadn’t until he pointed it out. “Yes, but this time it’s my fault that you’re not being forthright. I put you in this position. It’s not the same as when you weren’t honest with me.”
“Feels just as shitty to do it.”
“So, I’ll tell her. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, don’t. Not while I’m here tonight anyway. I feel like shit enough putting a face to one of the many people who my father treated poorly. I’m sorry that he affected your family, Bianca. I truly am.”
My heart broke a little. I knew what it was like to grow up with a father whose actions I wasn’t proud of. And as far as I knew, my father only ever hurt my mother. I couldn’t imagine having to live in the shadows of a man who openly embarrassed his wife with affairs and fired loyal workers without so much as a thought. “You’re not your father. We said we were going to put our past behind us. Please don’t feel badly for something you had nothing to do with. In the end, even my own resentment toward your father was somewhat misplaced. Sure, my family struggled a little when my mom lost her job. But plenty of families go through difficult financial times. It was my father’s actions that made my family fall apart. I think I just wanted to blame someone else. It’s time to grow up and put the fault where it really lies.”
I finished arranging the flowers, and Dex reached out and pulled me close to him. He caressed my cheek and then leaned in to kiss me, but the moment was disrupted by a certain little devil. Fearless, she ran right up to Dex. “Who are you?”
She’d been so hypnotized watching the TV, she hadn’t even noticed him walk through the living room and into the kitchen with me. Dex stood from his chair and crouched down to speak to Faith at eye level. “I’m Dex. Your Aunt Bianca’s friend.”
“Do you sleep in the same bed?”
My eyes widened. “Faith! What kind of a question is that?”
She ignored me and continued to speak to Dex. “When I go to Aunt Bee’s house, she lets me sleep in her bed. When Daddy goes away for work, Mommy lets me sleep in her bed. If you’re going to sleep in Aunt Bee’s bed, then I’m going to have to sleep on the floor.”
Dex’s lip twitched, but he answered her with sincerity. “You won’t have to sleep on the floor.”
“Are you going to marry Aunt Bee?”
Dex responded before I could. “If I’m lucky, maybe someday.”
“Could I be the flower girl? Cause there’s only one, and my sister picks her nose. So you don’t want her.”
I started to laugh, until I realized that Hope had walked in and overheard her sister. “I do not pick my nose anymore!”
Faith leaned in with a devilish smile and whispered to Dex, “She stopped yesterday.” These girls were going to be hellions when they were teenagers.
Dinner was a myriad of spills and arguments between the angel and devil. In between, Mom and Dex talked a lot. He was definitely a charmer, and it was interesting to see him in action. She’d put on an old Duke Ellington CD for background music during dinner, and he’d quickly picked up on her affinity for jazz music. Then he won her over by spouting off his favorite songs by jazz artists like Lester Young and Bill Evans, both of whom I’d never heard of. By the time dinner was over, Dex’s last name could have been Manson, and I wouldn’t have been worried. He’d insisted that Mom and I sit down while he and the girls cleaned up. The entire scene was comical to watch. We sipped wine while he took turns lifting the girls to put dishes up in the cabinets. If I didn’t know better, I’d have even thought he had the ability to tame wild beast four-year-olds.
“I like him. He seems genuine,” Mom said.
Dex was bending over to load something into the dishwasher, and my eyes were glued to the way his jeans hugged his firm ass. “I like him, too.”
I was mid-sip, still ogling the view when Mom sighed. “Does he have a nice father for your dear old mom?”
I choked, coughing some of my wine through my nose. It burned like hell.
Mom laughed when I finally stopped sputtering and caught my breath. “What? I’m old. Not dead.”
On the ride back to my apartment, I let Dex get to second base. We laughed as he discreetly felt me up in the back of the Town Car. He even managed to drop his head and take the taste he wanted while somehow shielding me from the driver and passing vehicles. Who knew how many uses a sports jacket could have?
When we pulled up to my apartment, I noticed there was a considerable bulge in his pants. “Do you want to…come inside?”
“That depends on what you’re inviting me to come inside of. Are you asking me up and I’m not allowed to touch you, or are you asking me to come inside.”
My body wanted the latter more than I could explain. I squeezed my thighs together to quell the desire burning between my own legs. Yet…I just wasn’t ready to go there with Dex. It wasn’t that I was holding back because I didn’t trust him anymore—my heart seemed to have moved past the distrust that he’d initially made me feel. Instead…I was realizing that having sex with Dex was going to mean something…possibly something monumental in my life. And maybe I was just a little scared. I turned to him. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
Dex looked into my eyes. “That’s good. Because the feeling is mutual. Although I’m sensing that wasn’t the end of your statement. That there’s a but coming…”
I smiled. “I wish there wasn’t. It’s just…” I had no idea how to put what I was feeling inside into words. I was confused by my own emotions, so it made explaining things pretty difficult.
I’d looked down, trying to gather my thoughts into coherent sentences, and Dex put two fingers under my chin and lifted until our eyes met. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. It doesn’t matter why you aren’t ready. I’ll be here when you are.”
“Thank you.”
We made out for a while after Dex walked me to the door, but he made no attempt to come in. When we finally said goodbye, I leaned my head against the closed door and listened to his footsteps as they walked away until I couldn’t hear them anymore. I hadn’t thought about it in years, but a flash of my d
ad the night he moved out came back to me in that moment. I was sitting in my room crying while he was making trips back and forth carrying boxes to his car. I didn’t want to see him, but I also couldn’t bring myself to stop listening for him either. I remembered listening to his feet clank against the tile of the hall floor with every trip he made. The last time he went out to his car, I didn’t realize it would be his last trip. I’d listened to his footsteps as he walked to the door, the sound becoming more and more distant. Then I waited for the sound to come back again. It never did. He never walked into our house again. He was gone.
Bianca was out of town the next three days on a trip to the West Coast for an interview. Though I’d felt like our relationship had truly started to push past the crap I’d pulled, something was still not sitting right with me. I’d racked my brain trying to figure out why Bianca’s mother looked so familiar, but I couldn’t seem to place where we’d met. And she certainly didn’t seem to recognize me either, albeit years had passed and I wasn’t a teenage boy anymore.
Throughout the day, I was swamped at the office. Even though I was able to immerse myself in my work, an unsettled feeling lurked in the background. By the end of the day it had grown and caused me to lose my concentration. Unable to focus, I picked up the phone and decided to call my father. On the second ring, my secretary walked in and placed a stack of papers she’d just finished photocopying on my desk. I hung up the phone, thinking better of calling him to fish around for details and instead spoke to Josephine. “Before you leave for the day, can you make some last minute travel arrangements? I need to fly first thing in the morning. I’ll also be needing a rental car once I land.”
“Of course. Where do you need to be?”
“West Palm Beach. I’m heading down to see my father.”
Palm Beach International Airport was the total opposite of JFK, that was for sure. Everything seemed to move at a slower pace. It was a weird thing to feel almost relaxed at an airport. The vibe was definitely different down here.
Since I wasn’t staying more than one night, I had no checked luggage. I dialed my father as soon as I exited the sliding glass doors. The heat and humidity outside nearly melted my face instantly.
“Dad, where are you right now? I flew down, just landed at PBI.”
“Am I dying and don’t know about it?” he joked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why else would you be visiting me? It’s been how long since I’ve gotten you down here?”
“Well, I have to talk to you about something important, and I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone, come see you personally. It’s been a while.”
“It certainly has.”
“Are you home?”
“No, actually. I’m at The Breakers.”
“I’ll meet you there. I’m just getting my rental car, and I’ll head straight over.”
“Okay, son. See you soon.”
After I picked up the Mercedes, I drove over the bridge that connected West Palm Beach to the exclusive island of Palm Beach. Driving past the famous Mar-a-Lago Club with its high hedges, I remembered my parents dragging me to a party there as a child and seeing Donald Trump. We’d spent many winters and holidays down in this posh, private community.
Driving down the road, to my right was a view of the aquamarine-colored ocean. To my left were the mansions—some Spanish-style, some with more modern glass-encased architecture. Tourists and residents leisurely strolled the sidewalks in beach attire, looking like they didn’t have a care in the world; I envied them.
I finally arrived at the The Breakers, a Renaissance-style resort where my father often met other retired CEOs for lunch. I knew he also spent a lot of time at a millionaire’s club down the road on Peruvian Avenue.
The breeze from the palm trees was a welcome contrast to city life. I couldn’t help but wish that Bianca were here to soak in some of this fresh air with me. That reminded me to book a vacation for us as soon as she was ready. I imagined how amazing it would have been to frolic on the beach with her here. I just knew her luscious ass would look amazing in a bikini.
Walking into the hotel reminded me why my father loved it down here. The whole island catered to the glitterati. He was totally in his element. It was a palatial explosion of pastels and money.
I’d texted him at the valet station, and he met me in the lobby.
My father offered a quick hug, patting me on the back. “Dex…so good to see you, son.”
“You, too.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or what, but my father looked a lot older than the last time I’d seen him. Despite that, he was in pretty good shape for his age because he made a point to stay active every day.
“We were just having lunch out on the balcony. Smoked salmon and capers prepared by Chef Jon. Why don’t you join us?”
“Who’s we?”
“Myra and some friends.”
Myra was my father’s most recent wife. She looked like many of the women down here: heavily blonde, Chanel-clad and tweaked by lots of plastic surgery. Let’s not forget the small fluffy dog by her side at all times. I was pretty sure Caroline would turn into a Myra someday.
“I was actually hoping that you and I could talk privately.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I just have some questions for you.”
“Alright. Let me just tell them I’ll rejoin them. We can take a walk along the beach.”
“That sounds good.”
I’d dressed for the occasion today, wearing khaki pants and a pink Polo shirt. When in Rome.
After he returned, we ventured down to the water. Rolling up my pants and holding my shoes in one hand, I walked alongside my father amidst the crashing waves as the tide came in. Shells crunched under my feet, and a few seagulls nearly grazed my head as they flew by.
“So whatever happened to the situation you called me about? The girl you lied to about your identity?” he asked.
“Well, miraculously, she’s decided to forgive me. We’re working on things. I haven’t earned her trust one hundred percent yet. She’s actually the reason I came to see you. Well, more specifically, her mother is the reason.”
“What about her mother?”
“She used to work for you. You fired her years ago.”
My father laughed. “That narrows it down to a few hundred people, then.”
“I met her the other night and immediately recognized her, which was odd. She must have worked for you longer than most, because I don’t remember many people from those days.”
“What’s her name?”
“Eleni George.”
He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look me in the eyes. “Eleni Georgakopolous.”
“No, Eleni George.”
“Georgakopolous. It’s Georgakopolous.” He walked over to a rock. “Come sit. I need a bit of a rest.”
“You sure her name was Georgakopolous?”
“Yes.”
“Hang on.” I quickly typed out a text to Bianca.
Dex: Random thought. I never asked you…George doesn’t sound like a Greek name. Is that short for something else?
She responded right away.
Bianca: Yes. I shortened it a while ago for work purposes. No one could seem to spell my last name. My legal name is actually Georgakopolous.
Dex: Good to know.
“What did she say?” my father asked.
“She said her last name is really Georgakopolous.”
He nodded. “Let me guess…your girl…she has big, golden brown eyes, gorgeous dark hair, and killer curves?”
“Yes.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far…”
“If you were so fond of her mother, why did you fire her?”
“Fire her?” My father laughed incredulously. “Is that what she told you?”
“Yes. Bianca said you gave Eleni the ax and that it devastated their family financially. It set off a chain of events tha
t they never recovered from.”
“Let me tell you something about Eleni Georgakopolous. And I can tell you this because we’re both grown men, and also because I’m not with your mother anymore.”
“What?”
“That woman was like…sexual napalm. I’ve never in my life experienced anything like her.”
“Sexual what? Excuse me?”
“Eleni was my secretary, yes. And I was her boss. But we were also lovers, Dex. She was cheating on her husband with me.”
“What?”
“It went on for several years. She wasn’t the only woman during that time, of course—you know your dear old dad—but she was the only memorable one.”
It sickened me to think about my father and Bianca’s mother.
“Wait…you need to back up.”
“Alright. I’ll explain anything you need.”
“She was cheating on her husband…with you? And then you fired her on top of that?”
He shook his head. “No. I never fired her. Her husband found out about the affair and forced her to quit. They may have told their children a different story. I would have never fired her, because I couldn’t quit her. I would’ve never let her go. She was too addictive.”
“God, that’s fucked up. This went on for years?”
“On and off, yes.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“What’s so hard to believe? If her daughter is as beautiful as she was, surely you can understand?”
“No. I can’t understand cheating on your wife—my mother—to begin with. But knowingly wrecking someone else’s marriage? That I definitely cannot understand.”
“Her husband never gave her what she needed.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes. There was so much more to her than he ever saw. He wanted her to just be this complacent wife. But she was a pistol with fire inside. The husband was apparently a good, hard-working man, but he didn’t get her, and he wasn’t… affectionate.”
“And you were…affectionate? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”