6. Oakley
CHAPTER SIX
oakley
As I walk past a table in the back, I hear my name and recognize the voice—Mr. Gould. I pretend to be waiting in line for the bathroom so I can listen to their conversation or maybe eavesdrop is a better description. Parts are inaudible but the other guy asks, “So, was she upset about not meeting me?”
Mr. Gould responds, “I think that ship sailed long ago. She thinks you’re an ass for not showing up when her mom died.”
“Her mom and I had an agreement. We both kept it,” he says matter-of-factly.
Is this man my father?
In a lighter tone, Mr. Gould adds, “Oakley seems to be a smart girl with a rebel streak. Pretty too. Did you see her yesterday as you left the office? She was early for our appointment so I’m sure you would have passed her. Blond hair, medium height, blue eyes.”
I wish I could see the man’s reaction, but his voice is clear. “I may have. It’s awful I can’t recognize my own daughter.”
Anger bubbles in my chest. He should know what his daughter looks like. What she smiles like. Her favorite toys when she was young. How she broke her arm the first time on the monkey bars, or the second time attempting gymnastics. He should know everything about me.
He may not recognize me or know anything about me, but I know I want nothing to do with him—ever.
“Yeah, cause once you saw her, you would be putty in her hands,” the lawyer adds.
“I’m giving her money, and that’s all I can do.”
The fabric of my dress crinkles in my hands, and I sneak a peek at Mr. Gould, and he’s shaking his head with a look of disappointment washing over his face.
There aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe how I feel at this moment. Anger, bitterness, fury. They all pale in comparison to the storm raging inside me. But I won’t let him win. I won’t let him think he can control me with his money. I don’t need him. I never have, and I never will. If he thinks he can buy my love and forgiveness, he can go fuck himself.
Fight or flight pops into my mind. My guidance counselor at school said, “When you’re stressed, fearful or faced with trauma, two responses take over: fight or flight. Oakley, I want you to know that you’re in control of those feelings and your response. Take a breath.”
Every unforgettable moment tonight is washed away from the tears running down my cheeks. Part of me wants to confront the asshole and show him what he’s missed out on—one fantastic daughter. The other, more sinister side of me wants to plot my revenge.
Wiping away the tears, I hustle upstairs. I throw my makeup and hair accessories into my bag, then I shimmy out of the dress and lay it on the bed. Dixie whimpers. “It’s okay, girl. We’re going home,” I say as I let her out of the kennel.
Now how are we getting back to Tennessee? As I break down the kennel, I notice Corbin’s valet ticket to his truck.
“Hmm.”
I know this is wrong in all kinds of ways, but I can’t be in the same room with the father who abandoned me and believes that’s okay.
“Let’s go, Dixie.”
She whimpers again and looks at me with her big brown eyes, which look sad. When we reach the valet, the man takes my ticket. While he runs to bring the truck around, I ask the doorman where the nearest bus station is located.
When we settle into the car and follow the directions the Skyloft doorman gave me, Dixie sits on her butt, staring at me.
“We’re just borrowing it, Dixie.”
She sure knows how to make a human feel guilty. Corbin will understand. He’s the most caring person I’ve ever met. And wow, when he kissed me, desire penetrated every cell of my body. The last thing I want to do is leave, but this is an emergency.
I push the gear shift into park and put the keys under the mat before gathering my belongings and Dixie. With forty-two dollars left on my prepaid credit card, I buy a ticket to Nashville, leaving me with seven dollars to my name.
Dixie gets comfortable in my lap for the six-hour ride. I stroke her golden-brown hair as I lean my head against the window watching the Atlanta skyline fade into a blanket of midnight blue. Looking at the sky makes me think of Corbin, the wedding, and all the seemingly normal professional athletes I met.
More tears fill my lids and threaten to spill over. I bury my nose in Dixie’s hair and sob, feeling completely alone in this world.
I’ve always hidden my pain, not wanting anyone to think they have the power to break me, but in ten minutes, my biological father shattered the pieces that I had just put together. And all I can do is cry myself to sleep and hope that I’ll wake up with a plan to destroy my dad.
The Sunday sun warms my face and jostles me awake, and I can see Nashville in the distance. I need to figure out how to get home with seven dollars. A pickup service will be at least thirty dollars since I live far from downtown, so I call one of my co-workers, Jennie Rae, but it goes to voicemail.
By the time we arrive at the bus station, she hasn’t called back so Dixie and I take a bus that will get us a few miles from my apartment. My phone finally rings, and it’s Jennie Rae.
“Thanks for calling me back. Would you mind picking up Dixie and me at J Christopher’s?” I ask.
“Sure, be there in ten minutes. Just gotta get dressed.”
Jennie Rae has a million questions. “Why did you go to Atlanta? Where’s your car? Did you get it towed?”
But she isn’t really listening until I say, “A professional hockey player came to my rescue, and we went to a wedding together. We kissed, and it was freaking amazing. But then I stole his car and took a bus home.”
She glances at me with one eyebrow raised. “Say what? Now this is a story.”
“I’m exhausted. I’ll tell you all about it at work tomorrow. Thanks for picking us up,” I say and lean over to give her a hug.
“Can’t wait.”
I put some ground chicken into Dixie’s bowl with a little dry dog food on top. She loves to eat all day, so I make her work for the chicken. I collapse on the couch, thinking I should have just told Corbin I was leaving. Or asked him if he wanted to bring me home, but I didn’t want him to miss his friend’s wedding festivities.
As Dixie finds comfort in her plush pink bed, she lets out a contented sigh and closes her eyes. She wraps her paws around her favorite toy, a stuffed unicorn, and nuzzles her nose into its soft, fluffy mane. The sound of her peaceful snores lulls me to sleep.
A few minutes or hours later, I have no idea how long we’ve been asleep, a loud knock on the door jolts Dixie awake. She perks up and looks toward the front door, her ears perked and tail wagging with excitement.
"Who could that be?" I mumble, only half-awake.
Rubbing my eyes, I slowly make my way to the door, tripping over my overnight bag. When I open the door, a uniformed police officer asks, “Ms. James?”
Dixie jumps onto the couch, and I look over my shoulder, feeling her worry.
“Yeah.”
“You’re wanted in connection with a stolen vehicle. You’ll need to come to the station with me.”
What? Oh, that.