“Buddy, you know how great you are, right?” she implores.
“You tell me all the time, Addie.” He rolls his eyes and grins at her. It’s the kind of smile that goes straight to the heart.
“Well, whether he stays or not, nothing will change how amazing you are.”
“Okay. I hope he likes me. Maybe if he does, he won’t go away again. When can I meet him?” She closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She sighs as she takes an extra-large drink of her wine.
With a grin on his face, Owen digs into his newly arrived steak and declares, “I love my life.”
Addie
It doesn’t take much to locate my father. Since he has resurfaced, he seems to be everywhere, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’s taken up residence in the lobby as we arrive from dinner. I should have had another glass of wine. My eyes meet Jameson’s, and he nods. That man has excellent nonverbal communication skills. I stop and turn to Owen.
“Buddy, do you want to meet your dad now?” I know the answer. I can no longer avoid the inevitable.
Eyes wide, he looks at me with so much innocence. Unconditional love and forgiveness pour out from his soul. While his enthusiasm is normally contagious, my stomach can’t help but clench.
“Yes! I want to see my dad. Show him that I’m all grown up.” He grins, and I cup his face.
“Okay, then. He’s right over there.” His face lights up like a Christmas tree. and we walk over to him—to the man that simply abandoned us. But in Owen’s world, he is just his dad.
“Hi, Owen.” My father looks uncomfortable yet smug. Like he has all of the power.
“Hi, Dad! I missed you. You left, but I knew you would come back for me.” And with that, he hugs the man who abandoned him because of his disability. Richard looks uncomfortable as he pats Owen on the back. I try to hold my shit together. I can barely breathe. I just wish he would never have come back. The disappointment of his presence, coupled with Owen’s inevitable broken heart, already hurts. But I can’t break. Owen needs me. I am the only constant in his life.
Suddenly a piece of chocolate is thrust into my hand. I look up into Jameson’s eyes. I mouth, “thank you,” and he gives me a soft smile. I watch my father squirm while Owen chatters on and on. I can’t hear anything he’s saying; it’s just all too difficult.
After a while, I say, “Hey, Owen. I think it’s time to go to the room. It’s getting late.”
“Okay. Hey, Dad, will you still be here tomorrow? You aren’t leaving, right?” My heart constricts. Owen’s eyes beg for acceptance. He shouldn’t have to beg—it should be given freely. And yet Owen’s heart is still completely open to Richard.
“I plan on staying. I want to get to know you.” His words lack conviction. They seem hollow. Empty. Owen hugs him again, and my father gives me a smirk. The feeling of dread escalates, and not even chocolate can ease the fear.
Owen is elated about the chance meeting with his dad, a.k.a, the sperm donor. I am trying to engage and be happy for him, but all I feel is impending doom. Maybe it’s my gut talking, but I get the distinct sense that this is a game for him, like chess, where each move is strategic. I’m at a distinct disadvantage since I don’t think that way about people. His motives are forced, and the timing is beyond coincidental. I didn’t remember Richard as being calculating. My memories of him aren’t unhappy, but they didn’t match what my friends had. He wasn’t a warm presence, but he did engage with me…most of the time. He did try to be a paternal figure to fill the void my mother left when she would disappear for days. Something shifted with him after Owen was born. I always thought that it was because of his disability, but now I am not so sure.
Jameson
Owen chatters on and on about his dad while Addie’s face remains emotionless as we take the elevator to our suite. The impromptu introductory meeting left us both feeling on edge. She has her arm around him. I know she’s struggling. I know that she wants to be excited for her brother, yet she knows there won’t be a happy ending. I know it too.
As we enter the suite, I pull Addie aside.
“I know that this is a stupid question, but are you okay?”
“Nope. Not even a little bit, but what is my choice in the matter? Dick has me cornered. I just need to focus on the book tour and Owen. I have to trust that everything will work out, right? I mean, you do have a plan in place. Maybe it’s time I learn to rely on other people.”
I wasn’t expecting that. The plan? Well, I don’t need to tell her that it’s still in the early stages. But for tomorrow, I know that we will be okay. Security is in place, and they know not to let Dick in the venue while Owen is at the Red Sox game. Bases covered. Pun intended.
While this situation is still volatile, I don’t believe it will affect the hype surrounding Addie. Okay, that might be a bit of a lie. Sometimes it can ruin a person’s reputation. I just have to bring my A-game and spin it to her benefit. Sleep will not come easy for me tonight.
Jameson
The bookstore is bustling as we make our way to the table where Addie will greet readers. Located in the heart of Beantown, The Book Nook is overflowing with anxious fans. She’s visibly nervous, popping chocolate, nibbling on her fingers, and pacing so much I fear she will wear a hole through the floor. I walk over to her and calmly tell her they’re ready to begin. Natalie, the store manager, is helpful and overly enthusiastic to the point where I wonder if she has an off button.
“Addie, are you ready? We are so excited to have you!” Natalie’s nasal voice is accentuated by what I would describe as a singsong delivery. This is going to be a long day.
“Already? What if they don’t like me?” She eyes Natalie with
uncertainty.
“Well, they’ve been lined up for two hours, so I’m pretty sure you don’t need to worry about that.” This chick beams. Her larger-than-life teeth glow, and I hope she won’t be hanging out with us the entire time.
For the next four hours, Addie patiently takes the time to chat with each person. She settles in beautifully, and in typical fashion, she owns the moment. When the last customer leaves, every single book is gone.
“Can a person lose a limb from overuse? Seriously, my hand might never be the same,” she deadpans. Then she looks at me expectantly, but I’m distracted. For the last four hours, I have been getting news alerts. Someone filmed Owen meeting his father. Fuck. Not moving to somewhere private was a rookie mistake for me. This is what I get for letting my feelings get in the way. Now I need to figure out how to spin this to our benefit. What we don’t want is for the public to believe that Addie is intentionally keeping Owen from his father. The outlets are reporting that Richard has been contacting Addie via email in an effort to reconnect, but she has rebuffed him. There are photos of emails that provide proof.
“I’ve never heard of that, but I suppose anything is possible.” She was probably joking, but I can’t handle jokes right now. I need to stay focused. “Let’s head back to the hotel. We’ll have room service. You have to be on Good Morning Boston for their nine a.m. segment tomorrow, so we need to arrive at eight for hair and makeup.” I’m doing my best to act as if everything were perfectly normal. Unfortunately, she isn’t fooled. I prepare myself for the Addie inquisition.
“You know, there was a time when I could dress myself along with doing my own makeup and hair.” There is a sparkle of humor dancing in her eyes.
“You call your yoga pants and food-stained shirts dressing yourself?” I laugh. She glares. It’s our thing. Then she flips me off. I love it. Jesus, I am so undone by this woman. She glances at me like she’s reading my thoughts.
“Spill.” Her eyebrows rise, and she folds her arms across her chest. Crap.
“What?” I ask, hoping we can skirt around the issue.
“You’re acting weird. Like ther
e’s something you don’t want to tell me. So spill it.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Alright. There’s footage of Owen meeting Richard, along with photos of a trail of emails between the two of you.” I look at her, hoping that she can tell me that those emails are fake.
“Are you fucking with me right now? Seriously? I have never exchanged anything with him. How would I? He fell off the planet when he left us. I don’t even know where he lives, let alone have an email address. Trust me, I tried.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You believe me, don’t you? You don’t think that I kept this from you, do you? Why would I do that?” Hurt shadows her face.
“I believe you, Addie. Whoever is doing this is savvy. I will get Grady on it to investigate the emails’ origin. The coincidence of this happening right now seems very well orchestrated. We need to control the narrative. Tell the story in your words.” I instantly regret saying “coincidence” since I am not ready to share Dorothy’s involvement yet.
She waits, clearly pondering carefully. Then it seems like something clicks in her mind, and she looks at me with fire in her eyes. “What do you mean coincidence? Do you think someone else is involved?”
Well, crap. My job is to spin things, so I need to figure out how to do what I get paid for without making her suspicious.
I hesitate. “Not at all. Coincidence wasn’t the right word to use. There are a lot of red flags with this whole situation. I just want to make sure that we cover all of our bases.” I hope that was believable. Basically, I just spun some bullshit.
She stares at me like maybe she doesn’t buy it, squints her eyes at me, and says, “Alright, let’s do it. I can’t allow all of this crazy to undo all of the good happening right now.”
“Okay. Let me make some calls.”
She nods in agreement.
We head back to the hotel. No “sperm donor” sightings, as Addie would say. Owen is safely in the room, awaiting our return. According to Owen’s Instagram, he had a great time at the baseball game. Yep, he has quite a fan base with over two hundred thousand followers now. Seriously, he is having the time of his life. I even set up a meet and greet so that he could hang with some of the players. We enter the hotel suite, and Owen hurls himself at us, chattering about his adventures while Addie kicks off her shoes and face-plants on the couch.
“Gmmm smmm fmmm.” The pillows muffle her voice.
“What was that?” I ask.
She raises her head and says loudly, “Get. Me. Some. Food.”
I chuckle at her hangry request.
I order a large spread, and once it arrives, we eat in silence until Owen breaks the quiet.
“When can I see my dad again? We have so much to do together since he came back to me. Can we have dinner with him tomorrow night?” There is a hitch in Addie’s breath.
“Let me see what I can arrange.” She smiles at Owen, who instantly changes the subject to how many hot girls were at the game, along with how much junk food he ate. Owen and I carry the conversation while Addie retreats inward. She quietly gets up, kisses Owen on the head, and goes to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Addie
I didn’t realize how exhausting and exhilarating a book launch could be. People were so kind and excited about my book. It affirmed me in a way that I have never felt. But by the end, I was done. Like, put a fork in me done.
When I got my first writing gig, my mother refused even to celebrate that milestone. I had been waiting for that moment where she would tell me that I was valued. That I was enough.
“Addie, I am so glad that you figured out it’s better that you don’t interact with the public. Since you don’t care about your appearance, being behind a computer would serve you best. I suppose you want to celebrate. We could go to that diner that you love so much. Just watch your carb intake.”
That diner was two counties over, and the reason it was my “favorite” was that it was the only place she would take me. Why? Well, then she wouldn’t run into any of her country club friends. I heard you gasp. Do you know how many times I have been to the club? Once. That was only because we were celebrating my parents’ anniversary, and we needed to “appear” as the perfect family unit. I was there a total of fifteen minutes before my babysitter took me home. After Owen was born, the club was never mentioned as a place where we would gather as a “family” again.
I shiver at the notion. With all of the success and the validation that I am enough, my mother’s words still reside within me. Maybe they keep me humble. Or perhaps they are simply reminders of what one can do when they don’t allow others to dictate their direction. I rose from the ashes after being beaten down from years of emotional abuse. And now, my past is threatening to invade my present.
After dinner with Jameson and Owen, I excused myself to retire to my room. I need a breather. I need to give some thought to how to navigate this situation with Owen and my father. How do I protect Owen’s heart, knowing there will be no happy ending? I need an impartial person, so I call George.
Ever since our first meeting, George has become one of my people. His perspective on life is refreshing, and the fact that he doesn’t give a crap what people think is exactly what I need at this moment. He picks up on the first ring.
“Addie! Oh, my God! I heard about your deadbeat daddy showing up at your big party. Guuurrl, your life is more dramatic than the drag show I went to last night. Those bitches got into it on stage and let me say, Spanx and testicles are things you simply don’t need to see together. EVER! I need to bleach my eyes because I can’t unsee it.”
I giggle, which results in me snorting. His humor is the best
medicine.
“I would have preferred that to the chaos that unfolded at the party by a longshot. Ugh! He is everywhere. What am I going to do? How do I protect Owen?”
“Oh, sweetie! I know you want to protect your brother, and let me say, he is so lucky to have you, but I think you are powerless in this situation. Is your hot publicist with the tight ass, a.k.a. Jameson, on high alert? I bet he is extra sexy when he’s stressed out and in protection mode.” I can practically see him swooning. He isn’t the only one.
George is not wrong on that account. Jameson’s sex appeal skyrockets when he’s in protection mode.
“Yes…maybe…well, he’s sex on a stick, but that isn’t the point right now. Even if he is an excellent kisser.” The words exit my mouth before I can stop them. I proceed to fill my friend in on the saliva exchange and the cuddling experience.
“Addie, it sounds like the brooding, hot publicist has a little attraction going on with you.”
“Yeah, well, it isn’t going anywhere. He switched back to business mode within seconds. I just need to keep my focus on this tour and protecting Owen.”
“Well, you keep telling yourself that, but I bet that it won’t be the last time his tongue finds its way in your mouth.” He laughs.
“Whatever. I guess I should go and try to get some sleep.”
“Take care, girlfriend. You are a warrior. Don’t forget that.”
We disconnect, and I absorb his words. Yes, I am a warrior. I just hope that I can win this war.
Addie
The ass crack of dawn arrives. I feel like I’m being watched, and sure enough, I peel open my eyes to see a sexy, brooding mirage. Oh wait, maybe I’m just having one of those hot dreams. I swear I get more action asleep, but I realize it isn’t a mirage. There is an actual sexy, brooding man standing over my bed bearing coffee. The coffee is extremely attractive. Okay, so is the man.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” He reminds me of that annoyingly happy chick from the bookstore. She practically drowned in her drool as she eye-fucked him.
“Jesus, what time is it?” My eyes close as I inhale the aroma of the dark roast beverage he hands to me.
“It’s seven. Walter is
hanging out with Owen while we head to the station, and after your interview, you have the whole afternoon free.”
“Free? Gee, Dad, what will I do?” Sarcasm drips like sugar from my lips. He licks his lips, and for a moment, I think he’s going to take mine hostage. I turn my attention to my coffee.
I get out of bed, forgetting that I have no pants on. Underwear, yes. Short shirt, check. Underwear up the butt crack, another check. How does one remove said underwear from its current place of residence without drawing attention? I don’t know about you, but I prefer to pretend that it isn’t lodged in a dark hole and proceed to walk to the bathroom with my legs all funny. I also don’t make eye contact as I shuffle along, moving my legs in a way that might allow my underwear to dislodge itself on its own -no such luck.
Once safely in the bathroom, I throw on my lucky yoga pants and semi-clean T-shirt. It’s my “lucky” attire because I wore them the entire time I wrote the book. Also because I can’t seem to locate anything else, so that makes them extra lucky. Jameson is waiting at the door with my purse and jacket. We head out, comfortable in our silence. He holds open the door to the car that awaits us.
“What are you going to do about Owen’s request?” His tone is soft. It calms my anxiety and makes me feel like I’m not alone. I am, though. Alone in my brokenness.
“I guess I’ll have to arrange it. Owen wants to get to know him, and I can’t deny him, even if I can’t forgive.” I can’t look at Jameson because I might cry.
“I can arrange it if you want me to.” He takes my hand. For a moment, I breathe him in and relish the secure feeling that I have when I’m with him. As though he is mine. But he can never really be mine. I’m his client. And I’m too broken for him, too damaged by my circumstances. Besides, I know the type of woman that would attract him. They’re sophisticated, elegant, confident, and sexy. They don’t require chocolate for their anxiety, and they certainly don’t have unexpected distractions that threaten their sanity.
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