"Not exactly, but many times, she'd leave with him. Then, the next day she'd come in with bruises on her arms or ass. She brushed them off like it wasn't a big deal, but we were all worried about her.”
"How can I find this guy, the one you call Bruce Wayne?”
"He still comes into the club. He'll be there tonight.”
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I just do.”
Without another word, Rose turned the keys in her ignition, reversed her Mustang from under the bridge and sped away.
Tonight, I’d head back to the Hens’ Den. Would I meet Callie’s killer at the club? There was only one way to find out.
Fifteen
After I left the meeting with Rose, I decided to make a stop before going back to my mom's house. I pulled into my dad's parking lot with two coffees and a half dozen donuts. At the funeral, my dad appeared gaunt, and his clothes hung loosely on his body. He needed some sustenance, even if that meant sweets and sugar.
Not that I blamed him. After losing Zac, I didn’t eat for days. Instead, I surged through our liquor stash. One bottle at a time. All I did was stare at the wall of pictures with us smiling from the vintage frames with a glass in one hand and my ring in the other.
I knocked on his door several times before I heard him stir inside. My dad opened the door, his hair sticking up in every which direction. He wore a gray t-shirt with rips and tears and baggy black sweatpants.
"Hey, Daddy. I brought some treats," I said.
A faint smile spread across his face as he stepped aside to let me in. Body odor and fast food lingered in the living room. Several empty pizza boxes were littered across the coffee table beside a few McDonald's bags.
My heart ached for my dad who now understood the grief of losing a partner, the same grief muddled within me. I knew his pain because it was my pain too.
I handed him a coffee just the way he liked it: black with two sugars. I sipped my Americano and moved to sit. My dad, flustered, attempted to clear away the empty wrappers and newspapers from on the couch.
"You doing okay?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"I'm hanging in there," he said.
I handed him a glazed donut with a napkin. My coffee warmed me up quickly as I'd put in some rum before coming to my dad's door. Should I have done the same for him? It seemed as though a hundred more worry lines graced his face since I last saw him only a short time ago.
We sat in silence on the couch and ate our donuts while we sipped our coffee. I couldn't help but study the pictures of my dad and Carin on the walls. It broke my heart to know the immense happiness my father felt with her slipped away like the tide. But would it return again? If you lost the love of your life at a certain age, would you ever get another chance at love?
I hoped with everything inside myself that my dad would find love again, or at the very least, he'd find peace.
My dad nibbled on the donut, not able to finish it. With tears glistening on his cheeks, he looked to me. "Does it ever get better?"
Air caught in my throat. I scooted over to him and grasped his hands with mine. "I'd like to think it does. Someday.” I didn't think I was the best person to ask about overcoming one's grief as I sipped my spiked coffee, unable to feel my own emotions or anguish.
My dad rested his head on my shoulder. We sat there in silence except for the sound of our sniffles and heaving chests. So many times growing up, my dad took away my pain. When I fell off my bike for the first time, he kissed my scrapes. When no one asked me to dance at homecoming, my dad turned on The Beatles and danced with me in his living room. The man who was able to protect me now was the one needing protecting, and I didn't know how.
"I know you and Carin didn't always see eye to eye on things, but she really did care about you," he said.
I nodded. "I know. All that mattered to me was that she made you happy.”
"She did. She really did." My dad stood and wiped away his wet cheeks. He paced the living room and ran his hands through his graying hair.
"Maybe you could take a trip or something," I offered. "I mean, getting away from Ashford and his memory is helping me." I didn't say that it wasn't helping very much, but it did a little bit.
He nodded. "My cousin Jameson has been nagging me to come to visit him in San Francisco.”
"See! There you go! Those West Coast vibes could help you.”
"Would it be wrong?”
Outside, clouds gathered in the sky. Birds zoomed by, chirping in unison.
"Would what be wrong, Daddy?”
He returned to sit next to me, turning to face me with a slice of hope radiating in his eyes. “Would it be wrong to leave for a while? Would that seem like I was trying to forget about her?”
“Not at all. We all have different ways of coping,” I said. “If taking a trip to visit with the family will help, that’s exactly what Carin would have wanted.”
My dad nodded affirmatively. “That’s what I’ll do then. I’ll call Jameson right away.”
I smiled. "I hope you have a great time!”
"Will you be here when I get back?”
I nibbled on my cheek. "I'm not sure. I don't really know how long I'm staying."
"Well, I think I'm due to visit Ashford, anyhow.”
I could sense the hopefulness inside my dad, and I wondered if I too would feel the same any time soon. I rose to leave and give my dad some time to plan and call his cousin.
"Call me before you leave, okay?" I asked.
"Thanks, honey.”
My dad hugged and kissed me goodbye. I felt comfortable leaving because it seemed he had something to look forward to. And so did I.
Sixteen
"Hey, you look familiar," the burly bouncer said with a cigarette hanging limply from his lips.
"Uh-huh," I replied nonchalantly.
He studied my ID then looked me up and down. "Have a good night!" He grinned, revealing two gold-capped teeth.
I opened the door, and just as before, a cloud of smoke shimmied outside, encompassing me in its wake. The music blared as Usher serenaded the room through the speakers. Electricity ignited the strip club as men and women alike ogled the dancers on stage baring it all.
Tonight, I chose a different look than last night's hobo-chic ensemble. This time, I wore a black top that hung off one shoulder and a pair of tight Guess jeans that hugged all my curves the right way. Tightly wrapped around my neck was a black choker with a silver heart dangling from the bottom. It wasn't my typical style, but it was all I could find at the boutique on Main Street earlier in the day.
I waltzed up to the bar with imaginary confidence in tow. I leaned over to reveal my cleavage. When the bartender, no older than myself, looked over, a small smile spread across his face. At first, I wondered if we went to high school together.
"Hey, beautiful." The bartender ran his fingers through his shoulder-length black waves.
"Hi," I flirted.
As I gazed into his eyes, I realized I definitely didn't know this man. Maybe he was genuinely smiling at me just because? It'd been a very long time since a man did so. Seeing his eyes sweep across my body provided affirmation that I'd picked the perfect outfit for the night.