Chapter 34
Ethan: Is everything okay?
Ethan: Jamie?
Jamie
The security office seems quiet after walking along noisy streets for a couple of hours. Outside, storm clouds are gathering, darkening the late afternoon sky as though the weather knows exactly how I'm feeling.
Kayla and Dani are both at their computers, working on something. I walk in with heavy footsteps and drop into my chair with a sigh.
As I put my phone on my desk, it buzzes again. Probably another message from Ethan.
"You okay, Jamie?” Kayla asks from her desk. “Why do you look like you got sucker punched?”
“I’ve been to the gym to see the renovation. It’s finished." I run a hand over my face, feeling suddenly bone weary.
“Oh wow. But that's good, right?" Dani and Kayla exchange confused looks. I must look dejected.
"Sure.” I try to sound upbeat. “Everything's shiny and new." Each word tastes more hollow than the last, and twisting a loose thread on my shirt, I pull until it snaps. "I should be grateful. Ethan did an incredible thing. Uncle Vito's thrilled. The place looks amazing."
Kayla's chair squeaks as she rolls closer. "But you don’t like it?”
“Guess it’ll take me some time to get used to it.”
The office door swings open, the bell over the door chiming to announce a visitor.
My father walks in.
I freeze. My stomach plunges.
He looks worse than the last time I saw him. His clothes are rumpled, his eyes are bloodshot, and his hair sticks up like he's been sleeping rough. But he's trying to smile, that same charming grin he used to use on marks. The one that always worked because it seemed so genuine.
His eyes land on me, and my chest constricts. I feel sick. Even after everything, part of me wants to forgive him for all his shit. Part of me wants to let it all go and give him a hug.
“Hey, Jelly Bean.” His voice is gentle. Practiced. Perfect. "Got a minute?"
Kayla stands immediately. “We should go make a cup of coffee or something. Come on, Dani.” She squeezes my shoulder as she passes, then drags Dani out with her into our little kitchen, closing the door behind them.
“You know I don’t want to see you,” I say in a flat tone, hiding the way my heart is hammering. “But you’re here anyway. So what do you want?”
"Look, I know things have been rough between us, but you gotta believe?—”
"Don't." I swallow, unable to bear listening to his bullshit. "Whatever sob story you're about to tell, save it. I'm not interested."
He holds up his hands, hurt flickering across his face. It looks real. It always does. "I deserve that. I do. But this isn't what you think."
"No?" I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. "So you're not here to ask for money?"
His face falls. Just for a second, but it's enough.
I laugh, the sound bitter. "Thought so."
"It's not like that." He takes a step closer, and I tense. "I'm in real trouble this time, Jelly Bean. Serious trouble."
"You're always in trouble."
"This is different." Another step. His hands are trembling slightly, and it’s a nice touch. He always was good at the details. "I had this deal going. A sure thing, big payout. Couldn't lose. All I needed was ten measly grand to put in."
I know exactly where this is going. "Let me guess. You borrowed from a shark."
"It was only supposed to be for a week or two! But the deal fell apart, and now..." He swallows hard. "If I don't pay it back, I'm going to wind up at the bottom of the ocean."
"That's not my problem."
"Please." His voice cracks, and he walks close enough to lean against my desk.
Close enough that I can smell the stale coffee and desperation on his breath.
"I know I've been a bad father. If you turned away from me, decided I don't deserve your help, well, nobody would blame you. But I'm trying to change. I’m trying my damndest to be a better father for you, Jelly Bean.”
"No, you're not." The desperation in his face is real, but underneath it, he's the same liar he's always been. "You can't change. You never will.”
He clutches his heart dramatically, as though I just shot him. “Well now, that's not fair."
"Isn't it?" I feel hollow inside. Carved out. Like someone took a knife and scraped away everything soft, leaving only sharp edges. "How many times have we done this dance? How many chances have I given you?"
"I'm still your father."
"Are you?" I stand slowly. “Because all you’ve ever done is make my life worse.”
“Jay-Jay, honey, I’m so sorry you feel that way.
” His eyes crinkle as though he really is hurt by my words.
“Did you know your boyfriend made me an offer, wanting to pay me off? He said he’d give me a million dollars if I stayed away from you.
But here I am, baby girl. I didn’t take his money. I turned him down flat.”
My heart stops.
The floor seems to drop out from under me, and my pulse pounds in my ears.
“Ethan offered you a million dollars? When?"
“Two or three weeks ago." He winces. “I guess he didn’t tell you, huh? He wanted to pay me to disappear, but I wouldn’t walk away from you, Jelly Bean. Not for any price.”
My phone buzzes again. Ethan's name flashes on the screen, but I can’t read his message because the letters blur together.
A million dollars.
Ethan tried to buy my father off.
He tried to use his money to fix my life, just like he fixed the gym. My mind flashes to the gleaming new equipment, the pristine walls, all evidence of the past erased.
"How much money do you need, Dad?” My voice sounds strange. Distant.
My father’s expression lights up. But he hesitates, not answering. It’s as though he’s not certain he understood me right and doesn’t want to jinx it by saying the wrong thing.
I bend and yank open the bottom drawer of my desk. I have all the money from the boxing match ticket sales stashed in there. Money I was going to use to start paying Ethan back for the renovation.
"How much?" I repeat.
His eyes lock onto the cash, and for a moment, the mask slips, raw greed showing through. "Twenty thousand would cover it, I guess. But there’s also a larger opportunity here, a way to make a whole lot more money if you?—”
“Twenty thousand. That’s it.” I count out the bills with unsteady hands. "Here." I thrust the stack at him. “Take it and get out."
He cradles the money like it's precious. “Jelly Bean, you don’t know how much this means?—”
"Don't." The word comes out sharp as a blade. "This is it. The last time."
He does that fake eye-crinkling thing again. “I know I’ve hurt you in the past, but I swear to you, this is the last time I’ll ever?—”
“It is the last time. You can’t hurt me anymore.
” And it's true, I realize. I feel nothing. No pain, no anger, just... empty. “For the record, I don’t believe for a second that there’s anything you wouldn’t do for a million dollars.
If Ethan was really going to give you that much, then something else must have stopped you.
Maybe there was a condition you couldn’t meet, or he changed his mind.
Whatever it was, there was something, because there’s no way in hell you wouldn’t have taken that deal. ”
He claps his hands to his heart, but he’s still clutching the money, so the gesture looks ridiculous. “You’ve figured this all wrong, and if you’ll just let me explain?—”
“Stop it. I don’t care about your lies and half-truths.
I just want you out of my life." I motion to the money he’s holding.
“It’s not a million, but the same terms apply.
Walk out the door with it, and we’re dead to each other.
You can never see me again. That’s the deal.
Take the money and go. Or give it back, and we can see what happens from there. ”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. For once in his life, he has nothing to say.
"Goodbye, Dad."
His shoulders sag, and he nods slowly. His eyes look sad as he drops them to the floor, and maybe this time the emotion is real. Probably not. But I don’t have it in me to care either way.
The door closes behind him with a soft click.
I sink back into my chair, staring at nothing. My phone buzzes with another message, and I switch it off.
Outside, the sun is setting, painting the city in shades of red. And Ethan is waiting for me in his shining penthouse with his unread books and his wine that’s just for show. A beautiful facade, without a speck of dirt, nor even a lampshade that’s tilted out of place.
Ethan has polished his life until it’s perfect. And I get why he’s done it.
He has his whole ‘don’t care what anyone thinks of me’ routine so perfect, he’s convinced himself it’s real. But somewhere deep inside, he’s still trying to feel like he’s worthy of a ghost, to convince his dead father that he’s worth loving.
It breaks my heart. I want to help him. To be with him. But I’m afraid.
If he keeps trying to polish the mess out of me, I’m scared he’ll erase me.