44. A lesson in playing it cool
Chapter 44
A lesson in playing it cool
LETTIE
O ccasionally, the chaos and executive dysfunction in my squirrel brain settle down. All my worries, discordant thoughts, and competing priorities approach absolute silence. And for once, I feel capable. Almost as if I have my shit together.
These peaceful times, as few and far between as they are, are the only moments of mental harmony I get to savor.
The only exception would be when the man I once knew as James would wrap me from head to toe in beautiful patterns of soft rope. Those times gave me a different type of tranquility.
However, the peace that comes of its own volition is magical. Like right now.
I love these moments. Live for them, in fact.
No pesky need to fill the silence with my rambling thoughts and dumb jokes. No compulsion to click my pen incessantly. My knees stop bouncing, and I don’t even catch myself humming along to the music in my head.
I’m simply in a state of serenity while poised to tackle whatever task I choose. And today, it’s owning the shit out of my life’s path.
In light of my recent trauma, I’m surprised at how calm and focused I am today. More baffling, I’m so out of my comfort zone that it isn’t funny. Here I am, being driven across town to meet my father by two virtual strangers—one of which is a man I’ve never met. I expected full-blown panic by this point in the drive. Figured I’d be trying to hide under the seat cushion and hyperventilating until I passed out.
Yet I’m cool as a cucumber.
Amber and her husband, Cort, chatter teasingly in the front seat while I look on from the back. Behind us, one of the guards from the healing center follows in his own vehicle. After checking to ensure he’s still there, my eyes land on the baby’s car seat beside me, seemingly at odds with the opulence of the luxury BMW SUV. If it wasn’t for the dusting of crumbs surrounding the seat, I’d feel out of place and drastically under-dressed. The scent of stale goldfish is oddly comforting. Turns out, even mega-rich people have messy kids. The more you know .
“Am I correct in assuming you have another child?” I ask when their conversation slows.
“We do.” Amber beams, her smile almost as shiny as her jewelry. “Cameron is almost three.”
“Is he excited about becoming a big brother?”
“Are you joking? Lil’ C is almost as psyched as me,” Cort responds for them both. “Not to brag, but he’s the best kid in the galaxy.”
The galaxy? Wow.
Is it weird that I wish Cameron were here? Probably. “Too bad I couldn’t meet this amazing child. Where is he today? With a nanny?”
Cort scoffs, vehemently shaking his head. “We don’t have a nanny. You’ll find the wifey and I are a cool level of stupid rich. Not the obnoxious type.” He tips his head toward the passenger’s seat. “My super successful sugar mama here was blessed with a kick-ass husband to bear the brunt of childrearing. She goes out to rule the world, and I tend to the carpet crawler.” Hovering one hand over his shoulder, he points a thumb toward his face. “I’m fantastic at this dad shit. Speaking of which, I’m considering offering coaching services for other fathers so they can reach something close to my level of excellence. Should you decide to reproduce one day, send your baby daddy to me. I’ll set him straight. Teach him everything he needs to know. For a small fee, naturally.”
“Cort,” Amber scolds him, swatting his chest with the back of her hand.
“Sorry. It’ll be on the house,” he amends, then cuts a side eye at his wife. “Is that better?”
“She asked where Cam is today, not for your five-year bullshit business plan.” Amber lowers her head to the headrest and waves her open palm in a circle, facing her husband. “I’m too pregnant for this today.”
His head kicks back as he feigns offense. “Not sure if you noticed, wifey, but you just gestured to all of me.”
“Sorry, Lettie,” Amber huffs, a slight whine in her voice. “I’m not usually this miserable. I need to get this baby out before I end up starring in a crime documentary. I’m crying one minute, ticked off the next, and why am I always sweating?”
Reaching over the console, he takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “Apologies, my love. I’ll behave. Oh, and for the record, I love it when you’re sweaty.”
In an instant, Amber melts. And not in the perspiration or hot flash way.
As I witness the sweet moment, jealousy rears its ugly head, whispering not-so - sweet words in the back of my mind. Remembering Simone’s advice, I let myself feel my emotions without trying to stifle them. It’s okay to be a tad envious of the loving couple in front of me. Especially since my boyfriend ended up with the ethics of a crooked politician moonlighting as a used car salesman.
Speaking of the yellow-bellied snake, he better not attempt to stop me today. If he dares try, he’ll find out how salty a sugar bear can be.
Done making goo-goo eyes at his wife, Cort glances at me in the rearview. “To answer your earlier question, Cam is the luckiest child on earth. Not only is he blessed with the best parents ever, but he’s also currently living my childhood dream.”
Amber’s still grinning at him, sending love fluttering from her side of the car to his. Despite Cort being a bit hyper, it’s clear how smitten she is with him.
And he eats up her affection with a giant serving spoon. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.
Ohhh . Amber calling him a puppy makes so much sense now.
Going around his ass to get to his elbow, Cort continues answering my question from ten years ago. “Cam is probably piloting the Millennium Falcon as we speak. Lucky stinker.”
Sweet fancy Moses on buttered toast. Rich folk’s childcare is on a whole other level. Light-years away from putting plastic arms on Colonel Sanders the chicken back in Climax, which is how Stella and I spent most of my childhood.
The more he talks, the more questions I have. He’s waking up my squirrel. So much for mental serenity.
“Did you say Millennium Falcon? As in the plane thing from Star Wars ?”
“Plane thing?” Cort snort-laughs. “Did you hear that, babe? She said plane instead of spaceship or light freighter. She’s adorable. Can we keep her?”
Regardless of his teasing, I grin like a goober. Amber and Cort are easy to like. I bet they make awesome babies.
Since her husband was ultimately unable to give me a straight answer as to where their son is, Amber takes over. “Cam is at Star Wars Galaxy’s Edge at Disney World with my brother, Hudson, and his wife, Chloe, for a super long weekend. They’re giving Cort and me some alone time before the baby comes. Cam adores their daughter, Daisy, and Chloe usually watches him for us when we’re at work, so he’s likely having the time of his life.”
“Plus Star Wars , more importantly,” Cort teases with a playful roll of his eyes.
Touched by the closeness of their family and the love reflected in how they describe them, I press my hand to my chest to settle my pounding heart. “Oh my goodness. I love that so much. Talk about thoughtful.”
Cort catches my gaze briefly in the mirror. “The rest of the Amos-holes will join them on Saturday with their other kids. We’ve got quite a brood.”
With my mental peace gone thanks to Cort’s exuberant storytelling, my mind wanders.
I’ve never been to Disney. When I was young, we came down to Florida for vacation. However, we stayed at the beach. My parents—well, grand parents—weren’t keen on long lines and standing out in the heat all day for rides or getting autographs from people wearing furry costumes.
Looking back, I suppose it’s because they were already up there in age. Makes sense they’d enjoy a beach trip instead.
Anyhow, working at Bask, I saw plenty of furry shit. So I’m good on that front.
For the last few minutes of the ride, I pepper them with random questions, including asking what an Amos-hole is. Chatting with them keeps me from worrying about meeting the man that made me.
Soon enough, it’s time to face the music.
The guard manning the Redleg Headquarters entrance stops us, keeping the gate closed.
Cort lowers his window. “I got this, ladies.” There’s a dash of cockiness in his tone that I find comical. No one else was planning on speaking to the guard.
Amber shakes her head, her thoughts probably mirroring mine. “That’ll be a big help, honey. Especially since I’m on the other side of the car and left my freeze ray at home, so I can’t take out the guard.”
Looking over her shoulder, she glances my way and gives me a showy roll of her eyes.
Yeah, her hormones are all over the place. Poor thing.
The guard peeks inside the vehicle, his eyes darting between the three of us. “Morning, folks. Unfortunately, Redleg isn’t allowing visitors today without proper clearance.”
Interesting.
Scanning the parking lot, I spot a handful of people wearing the same tactical-type gear as the men who rescued me, minus the ski masks. They seem to be patrolling like you’d see in a military movie.
A chilling shudder starting in my neck scrambles out toward both shoulders.
“We’re old friends with Big Al and the boys. And the young lady in the backseat is a VIP, as is my lovely wife here.” Cort gestures toward Amber. “If you give Peggy a call, I’m sure she’ll clear us.”
The guard’s posture stiffens, and a grimace works its way across his facade. “Hold tight.” He backs away, returning to his little booth.
Cort trades glances with Amber, his brows lifting in question. “Um, dear lady of my loins, her name is Peggy, right? I didn’t hallucinate that, did I?”
“Lady of what now?” I interject, my verbal filter returning to Lettie’s factory setting of never working.
“ Yes , Peggy is Big Al’s assistant,” Amber answers him before looking at me. “Ignore him. It’s a dumb thing we’ve been doing since our honeymoon.”
“The first honeymoon,” Cort amends. “The fake one when we tried to bang it out of our systems.”
“Dude!” Amber whacks him harder. “You know we’re not alone, right?”
I cover my giggle with my hand and attempt to focus on what’s about to go down once we get past security.
The guard returns, notepad in hand. “Names and purpose of visit, please? I’ll call Peg. And I’ll need to see everyone’s identification if she clears you.”
Already on the case, Amber holds her cell toward the guard. “I’ve got her for you. She’s on speaker. Go ahead, Peggy.”
And just like that, we’re cleared to enter.
“It’s good to be the king,” Cort quips, trying to throw his voice in an accent I don’t recognize.
But I laugh anyway.
Fifty percent chance it’s because he’s funny, and fifty percent chance it’s nervous energy.
Ten minutes and one bathroom break later, we’re waiting in a small sitting area. We’re a few feet in front of the woman who cleared us to enter. Don’t know much about this older gal, but she’s not happy to see me, that’s for sure. I’m wondering who licked the red off her candy. If she keeps staring me down, I just might ask her.
After going through the bag check and X-ray machine in the lobby, which I could have sworn was not there the only other time I was here, Peggy was waiting for us by the elevator.
She went through the motions of offering us beverages and exchanging pleasantries, likely catering to my wealthy chauffeurs more than me. Through it all, an underlying tension surrounds her. Call me crazy, but bitchy isn’t the vibe I get from her. Almost as if she’s out of sorts today.
When I told her I was here to see her boss, she initially declined, stating I’d need to come back another day. As if I gave her a choice. Ha . I made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that I would wait all day if I had to. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.
She seems protective over her boss, which I admire. It’s also inconvenient as hell today.
Once she realized she had a better chance of brushing an alligator’s teeth than getting rid of me, she agreed to ask him to meet with me when he was finished with whatever he was doing. Other than a tip of her head toward a door about ten feet away from her desk, she gave no other explanation. I can only presume it’s his office behind that door.
Rising to my feet, I start pacing in the small space. Ants have metaphorically invaded my pants. Sitting calmly? Not on my watch.
While talking softly with Amber and Cort, Peggy keeps shooting me an evil eye. What the hell did I ever do to her?
The answer hits me like a frozen fish to my face.
Tomer.
No doubt, the lying dog must have told her I was coming to start trouble and has her running interference. By now, she’s likely notified him that I’ve arrived. Bet he’ll be down here any minute to sling me over his shoulder and drag me out of here like a caveman. Fucker.
And why does that still make my core clench? Damn this hyper-horniness.
On my next lap, I peek down the hall, trying to remember where Tomer’s office was. Yet the night of my rescue is foggy. Not much looks familiar around here. Sweeping my gaze from one end of the hallway to the other, I’m relieved he’s not barreling toward me.
Also slightly disappointed.
Boy, I’ve lost it . So much for the steady sense of calm I had earlier.
Twice, I find myself starting to chew on my nails, but I resist both times.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in it, young lady,” Peggy chides out of nowhere, interrupting my mental recitation of the I am your daughter speech.
My nose scrunches as I process her odd sentence. “Beg your pardon.”
She pointedly stares at my feet before returning her attention to my face. “The carpet. You’ll wear a hole in it if you don’t stop pacing. Why don’t you have a seat?”
Despite not being tired—after all, we’ve barely been waiting five minutes, even if it feels like forever—I accept her offer, trudging over to sit beside Amber.
The second my fanny hits the seat, Peggy adds, “He might be a while, darling. Why don’t you go on home now, and I’ll have him call you tomorrow? Wouldn’t that be more comfortable for you all?”
Having already made my position clear, I fold my arms at my chest and settle deeper into the seat. Eying her down, I don’t blink.
She tuts her lips and tosses her hands to the sides. “Suit yourself. But I’m telling you, this isn’t a good day for whatever you need to discuss.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Amber’s head whip toward me. Feigning being non-bothered, I meet her eyes. With her forehead lowered, she warmly studies my expression. She must get the answer she seeks because she nods, offering a sad, tight-lipped smile.
My chest stings, and I press my fist into my sternum to stave off the discomfort. I recognize the sensation—guilt. Quite possibly with a side of heartburn.
I take another peek at the very pregnant Amber and her golden retriever husband, and my reaction makes more sense. I can’t let her sit here with me all day. Especially when this is their special alone time before she has the baby.
Despite taking control of my life, I won’t abandon my manners and who I am at my core.
I turn to give Amber and Cort an easy out when the door to the office opens, and a woman goes flying down the hall with her hand covering her mouth. She’s running. Full out. Odd.
“Oh, I recognize that run,” Amber mutters under her breath.
A moment later, someone else exits his office, closing the door behind her, then following the other woman without noticing us. If the red curly hair is anything to go by, she could be Mia.
With their departure, does that mean my father’s office is empty? Is this about to happen?
I lean close to Amber. “If you guys need to leave, I can get a ride back. It’s totally fine. Seriously, you’ve done enough. I’m so thankful, but I’ll feel horrible if you have to wait all day just because I’m stubborn as a mule.”
“I don’t know exactly what you’ve come here to do, but I’m beyond curious and ready to ride it out. I’ve been an Amos long enough to develop a craving for juicy gossip.” She winks, adding, “Plus, Tomer would kill me if I left you to find a ride. And I need to talk to him about whatever this threat is.”
“Do you think there is one?” I whisper, covering my mouth so Peggy doesn’t overhear. She’s likely corrupted. Can’t trust her.
“I’ve never seen the security like this before, but it’s been a while since I’ve been in the building. We’ll see soon, I guess.”
Another few seconds pass without Peggy going to see if dear old dad will see me now.
“Ahem.” Clearing my throat, I make eye contact with her. “Perhaps he can see me now since his office cleared out?”
Her brows furrow, deepening the wrinkles on her forehead. “That’s not?—”
Peggy’s reply cuts off when a feminine voice fills the space, stealing everyone’s attention. “What are you two doing here? And how did you get in with the increased security measures?” The woman who hastily exited the office a few moments ago has returned with Mia at her side and seems to have questions for my accomplices.
Amber stands. I do the same, moving behind her as she approaches the two ladies.
She hugs the brown-haired one, shakes hands with Mia. Other than that, I lose track of what’s being said. There’s soft laughter and joking, I think. But I’m not sure. I’m lost in a memory.
The sight of Mia and her kind smile pulls me back to that night. And how I clung to Tomer in the elevator like he was a lifeline while Mia offered me such a sweet expression full of compassion. Not unlike the one she keeps tossing my way while interacting with Amber, Cort, Peggy, and the other woman.
Before I know it, the ladies disappear behind the door leading into my father’s office. Ah crap on a cracker . With their departure goes my chance to expedite this encounter. Suppose they weren’t done meeting yet. Must have been a bathroom break.
A gallon of sarcasm fills me, causing me to envision bending at the waist and gesturing to the door while saying, “By all means, you first. I’ve only been waiting twenty-five years to meet him.”
I collapse back into my chair, battling a fresh bout of nausea along with that stinging pain at the base of my throat. My head sags into my hands as I breathe through the discomfort.
Slam.
At the sound of a door banging closed, I jerk to attention, spine stiffening and fists clenching in an automatic response. My stomach pitches and rolls as my eyes land on his.
Tomer.
Ain’t this the best? Not only am I gonna throw up, but he’s gonna witness it and then have me escorted out.
Looking slightly enraged, he approaches rapidly with his palms out in that stupid, placating gesture. “Lettie, you need to leave.” He points toward the elevator. “I’ll call you later. Please just go.”
My vision blurs with a red tinge. “Who do you think you’re talkin’ to like that?”
“Amber. Cort. Get her out of here.” He shoots a fierce glare at Peggy. “We’re on lockdown? Why are they here?”
She doesn’t respond other than to throw up her hands and mumble, “I’m getting too old for this bullshit.”
I attempt to surge past him, heading for the door. Naturally, he moves in front of me to cut off my path.
“This isn’t the time.” His voice is devoid of compassion and far too loud for an inside space.
Matching his energy, I holler, “It’s not up to you.”
“Lettie, I said no . Not here and definitely not now.”
Murder is wrong. Murder is wrong.
“Who are you to decide?” I go toe to toe with him, armed with righteousness. “In fact, who the hell are you? I don’t even know you!”
He lowers his voice, some of the tension leaving his jaw. “Don’t say that. I know you don’t mean it. Please , Lettie. Just go now. This isn’t the day for this. Trust me.”
My gut sinks, another wave of nausea filling my insides and rising to the back of my throat.
Trust him?
Every time he says that, I want to cry or break something. Or cry while breaking something.
“That’s the thing. I can’t trust you. I don’t believe anything you say anymore. You ruined it. You ruined us. I don’t know you.” I give him a meager shove to get some space from him, sadness and anger dueling behind my rib cage. “I never knew you. You aren’t the man I loved. Whoever he was is gone.”
Tentatively, he reaches out for me. “You do know me,” he whispers, voice and chin wobbling.
I stare at his hands for the briefest moment, longing to feel his arms surround me and desperate to bat them away.
Loving and hating someone in equal measure is the cruelest torture.
How dare he destroy something so beautiful?
Worst of all, the last few days, I foolishly thought he might be worth giving another chance. Then he pulls this shit.
Yet I still fucking love him.
When he moves a step closer, his strong, warm palms make contact with my outer arms. Greedily, I soak it in for as long as I can. After two seconds, I break free of his hold. Any longer, and I’d have folded.
“Lettie, you know me better than anyone else. Don’t do this, sugar bear.”
Everything about him begs me. His words. His woeful tone. His sullen eyes.
No . I’m in control of my future. My life.
“Don’t call me that!” I roar, lunging forward before immediately retreating.
Wanting him and needing to be away from him has me absolutely wrecked. All the anguish buries itself in my stomach in another nauseating wave.
From the corner of my eye, I notice the door to my father’s office closing after Peggy dashes inside.
Man alive . If I don’t act now, I’ll be tossed out on my ass for causing a scene. Right now, I don’t give a fuck if Mia and the other chick are still in there. Here I come.
“Is he in there? Let me see him.” I dash around Tomer, but I’m hit with another wave of queasiness, this time accompanied by dizziness, so I don’t get all the way to the door before he cuts me off again. I’m physically weak, growing fainter by the second.
That’s me in a nutshell. Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn? Nope. Naturally, I freaking die.
“Lettie, listen to me for a second. This isn’t the time for this. I swear. Give me another day. Just one more day, baby. Don’t do this to him. Not now.”
I wish I could believe him. But he’s only afraid of losing whatever his relationship is with his boss.
My father.
No more dishonesty. I’m done.
“You want to lie to everyone? Go right ahead. But I’m done with all your bullshit.” I jab him in the chest with my pointer finger. “He’s my father, not yours, and it’s time someone tells him.”
Gasps reverberate around me. Guess Amber got some of that hot gossip she wanted. Bet she didn’t see that coming.
This time, nothing stops me from sailing past Tomer. “Move aside!”
I throw open the door before he can stop me. Two large steps into the room, and I freeze, my feet faltering.
Gulp.
This may have been a big mistake. Oh boy . A big, big , fat one.
This isn’t his office. It’s a giant conference room.
And it’s full of people.
With shaky eyes and shakier breath, I study the room for all of two seconds. Too late to turn back now.
I lock my vision on my target. He stares back at me, looking like he’s seen a ghost. Rigid posture, disheveled appearance, and a fog of questions surrounding him. I suspect he heard what I yelled in the hallway. Likely, he’s already processing the news. Let’s hope he reacts better than I did.
“Alan Lancaster?” I ask, confirming what I already know.
Rolling my shoulders back, I lift my chin and walk up to him like I have a right to be here. Coming to a stop a foot in front of him, I confidently extend my hand. “My name is Violet Holt. I go by Lettie. I’m your daughter.”
Time stands still.
My heart beats so vigorously it’s practically audible, and the pounding force makes me sway.
Yet I don’t close my eyes or lower my hand. If he’s gonna reject me, he’ll have to do it in front of all these people.
His gaze lowers to my offered hand. With deliberate slowness, he finally takes it, wrapping his large, calloused hands over my small, fragile ones.
It’s happening. I’m shaking hands with my father.
Despite him being larger and decidedly stronger, I’m the one holding our joined hands up.
He might not believe what I’ve said. He might be too shocked to formulate thoughts or words. Or a million other possibilities. And I have no idea where all this is going to lead me. Or lead us.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating.
Best of all, whatever happens will occur because I decided.
From somewhere toward the center of the room, a British male voice sings, “Congratulations. It’s a girl!”
Chuckles and guffaws erupt around the room as the tension plummets.
None from my father, though. He keeps a soft hold on my hand, analyzing me intently. When I look back into his eyes, I see it.
The similarity. The same hue and shape.
Viktor was right. I have his eyes.
That single thought gives my nervous belly all the acid it needs to overpower my ability to hold breakfast down.
As you’d expect from Calamity Lettie, I end the moment in the perfect fashion. Running from the room, I cup my mouth until I get to a trash can near poor Peggy’s desk. I fall to my knees and empty the contents of my stomach.
This is the perfect impression to make on my father and the hoard of staff in his meeting.
Classic Lettie.
Meeting my father? Nailed it.