40. Brent
40
Brent
H ow the fuck did everything go wrong so fast?
By the time I called down to the lobby, threw on some clothes, and took the elevator, Joey had disappeared.
Fuck!
I have no idea where she’s going. My first instinct is to call her, but what’s the point? She’s not going to answer—not in the mood she was in when she left. I can take her anger, but not her disappointment and lack of trust.
Okay, maybe I didn’t deserve her trust since I lied to her. The only way to fix that was to fix the fucking Caitlyn situation. I scroll farther down on my Favorites contacts and call Gabe D’Angelo, a friend since childhood who runs a private security firm.
“What’s up, buddy? Been a while.”
“I need a favor,” I tell him without preamble.
“Okay,” he chuckles. “I guess we’ll catch up some other time.”
“Are you able to arrange paternity testing for me? Is that something you guys do?”
“Oh shit, Brent. I never thought I’d have to worry about that with you.”
“It was ten years ago, before I was drafted.”
“Shit,” Gabe says again. “Who’s the mother, and are you sure this isn’t a money grab?”
“Could be, so I need you to look into that too. Her financials, medical records, everything. I want to know why she came to me now. Her name is Caitlyn Adams. Married to Paul Evers. Her daughter’s name is Summer.”
I do some mental math and give him the approximate range of the girl’s date of birth.
“Okay. I’ll start a search. In the meantime, text me her number and let her know we’ll be in touch to coordinate the testing. And I’ll let you know when someone will be over to collect a DNA sample from you.”
“Thanks, Gabe. Put a rush on it, whatever it costs. And hey,” I say, trying to make up for my earlier rudeness, “how are the kids? I couldn’t believe how big they got when I saw them at the memorial.”
“They’re good, thanks. And I swear they’ve grown another couple of inches over the summer. Let’s meet up soon whenever you have a minute.”
“Definitely. Say hi to the family for me.”
We hang up and I feel lighter than I have in days, despite Joey’s absence. Nowhere near back to the euphoria I was experiencing just before Caitlyn’s first call, but better than the darkness that had been consuming me since.
I resist the urge to call Joey. I don’t have time to find out where she went if I want to make it to practice on time. While I’d happily pay a fine for being late, I’m afraid Coach might bench me for a game or two. Besides, I don’t know what I’d say if I found her. It’s better to wait until I have the paternity test done first so I know what I’m up against when I do talk to her.
It’s not until I’m on my way home from practice that my phone rings, interrupting the thoughts I’d held off until I was alone again.
“What’s up, Gabe? You sending someone over for a sample?”
“No, Paul Evers wants to talk to you. I’m going to put him through to you.”
Before I can protest, an aggressive voice barks out, “Hello?”
“Yeah, this is Brent.”
“I want to know what the hell you’re doing trying to get paternity testing of my daughter. You have no right—”
“According to your soon-to-be ex-wife, that might be my…” I can’t say the word. “That might be in question.”
“There’s no fucking question. She’s mine.”
“How do you know for sure? I was with Caitlyn just before she—”
“Yeah, I know. I’m not an idiot. But I loved my little girl from the second she was born, even knowing she might not have been mine. I saw no reason for confirmation until Caitlyn tried to leave me once before.”
“You’ve already…” I shake my head in confusion. “Then why is Caitlyn—”
“Because I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want her to know I had doubts when we got back together. But I had no idea she was hatching up this lunatic scheme of hers to try to block my custody of Summer. If I’d known, I would have told her and put a stop to this madness.”
Paul’s outrage is as clear as his love for his daughter. Can I trust that he’s telling the truth? He might say anything to keep the little girl he loves. Unable to believe anything anyone says at the moment, I say, “I’d like a copy of the paternity testing.”
“What? I don’t have it anymore. I destroyed it right away. I didn’t want Cait or Summer to accidentally see it someday.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on another test. I hope you can understand that I can’t just take your word for it.”
Paul is silent.
“Listen,” I urge him, “if what you’re saying is true—and trust me, I want it to be true, probably more than you do—there’s no harm in doing the test and putting this whole thing to rest, once and for all.”
Paul’s sigh is loud. “Fine. You’re right. But I want a copy of the results sent to me directly as well.”
“No problem.”
When I hang up, I expect a greater sense of relief at Paul’s admission, but I won’t be completely satisfied until I have the results in my hand.