The guy never used the Fitzpatrick name, his mother’s connections, or the last name Aldridge. He doesn’t talk about his roots. If anyone figured out who he is, it’d be all over the news, and I think it would affect everyone—including us. How he has kept the secret under wraps is a mystery.
His mother was a huge pop star back in the late eighties and nineties. I don’t know how Dad ended up knocking her up. We never learned the story, but because he got tangled up with her, we learned that he had more than one family. At some point during their relationship, his picture ended up in the tabloids, along with the news that he’s the father of Janelle’s baby. A kid no one ever found out about until that day.
That’s when everyone realized Dad was a scumbag.
“Beacon’s phone, how can I help you?” A cheery female voice answers.
“Is he available?” I ask.
“It depends,” she retorts. “Why are you calling, asshole number two?”
I chuckle. “Is that how my name comes up on the caller ID? He catalogues us as assholes, just like Mills calls us Fuckers.”
“No, it reads Hayes. However, when your name flashed, he just said, ‘Fuck. First a lawyer calls about my father and now it’s asshole number two,’” she explains, trying to imitate a male voice but failing. “I answered because I guess things are not going well with his dad, and he can only ignore him for so long.”
“I can ignore him forever,” Beacon says on the other side of the line. “Leave it alone, G.”
“He's sick, and you have to at least say goodbye. It’ll be good for your soul.”
“I’m soulless, so it doesn’t matter,” he argues while she grunts in response.
“And you are?” I ask intrigued.
“Beacon’s Jiminy Cricket,” she answers.
“Just less green, sassier, and cuter,” he says mockingly. “Hang up, G.”
“What is it that you need to tell him? I’ll convey the message.”
“Can you at least put me on speaker?”
“Fine,” she sighs. “Speak.”
“Beacon, our father died yesterday morning.”
“Tell him I don’t give a fuck,” Beacon says.
“When is the funeral?” His friend or girlfriend asks.
“In two weeks, in Baker’s Creek,” I inform her. “We need him to be there—it’s not optional.”
“Hmm, I know where that is,” she says. “You hear, Beac, we’re going to Baker’s.”
“There’s no fucking way I’m going to that damn town,” he says.
“Umm, we were there just a couple of weeks ago,” she says and then screeches after he says, “That’s it, you asked for it, G.”
“Stop!” She bursts into laughter. “Put me down, Beac!”
“You know what to do,” I hear him say.
“Uncle!”
There’s a long pause and the laughter coming from the phone fills the entire office.
“Look, asshole,” Beacon speaks. “I don’t give a shit about the old man.”
“We agree, Beacon,” Mills says. “Yet, we’re here trying to deal with his shit one last time.”
“Mills?”
“Yeah, and Henry is here, too,” he responds. “Just do this once, okay?”
“Fine. Send me the info. I’ll be there,” he promises, and I wonder how close Beacon, Vance and Mills are. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have family shit to do.”
“Your wife?” I ask, wanting to know more about the woman he’s with.
He laughs. “Nah, I don’t do that shit. My best friend invited me to have brunch with her family. See you later, assholes.”
“You know what’s sad?” Mills asks after Beacon hangs up.
“That we’re getting together just because our father died?” Henry responds with an unamused voice.
“Other than that,” he amends his statement. “That we’re all alone.”
“I’m married,” Pierce protests.
“Are you in all honesty happy with your life?” Mills asks, and there’s no animosity in the question.
“I will be when she signs the fucking divorce papers,” Pierce responds.
“We’re pathetic,” I conclude.
“We have ‘daddy issues,’” Mills chuckles. “Really. That’s what my therapist says. Well, he doesn’t use those words, but it’s all the same, you know.”
“You’re going to therapy?” I ask, impressed, because at least one of us is trying to do something about our screwed-up lives.
“Hey, I’m trying to be a good father. I had a shitty one, so I have to figure out how to do it right, you know,” he says. “So, I go to a guy who tells me I’m an idiot and an asshole in a constructive way, so I can change.”
We all laugh. I’m sure that’s not the case, but he’s getting help and that’s a step or two above any of us.
“I hate to kick you out of my office, but that’s all the time I have for you,” Henry says when his phone buzzes. “I have a videoconference with the manager at the Bora Bora resorts.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that we have food coming in, but I choose to let it go.
“See you in a couple of weeks,” I say, taking my jacket and leaving the office.
“Hey, wait.” Mills walks behind me. “I don’t need to go to the airport until later. Let’s get Arden, and we can have a late lunch or something?”
“That would be good,” I say.
Five
Blaire
“Ms. Wilson, this is Jerome Parrish. I’m part of the legal team for William Tower Aldridge. I called to inform you that Mr. Aldridge died two weeks ago tomorrow. We’re sorry for your loss. The funeral is this upcoming Wednesday. Your presence is required. Please call me at your earliest convenience so we can discuss all the details.”
Six
Blaire
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That is my motto. Not many things can bring me down. Really, I’m a survivor. It’s not a joke. I could even write a book on how to survive in the Amazon Rainforest. It’s not easy. Let’s start with the animals you have to be on the lookout for. Like piranhas, boa constrictors, jaguars, and poisonous arrow frogs. There’s an anaconda or two hanging from the trees. My biggest enemies are mosquitos. Those suckers carry a lot of nasty diseases.
After all my travels, I’m used to wearing long pants and long-sleeve shirts, even under the heat and humidity of the jungle.
“I can survive everything,” I say out loud, as I drive the rental down the road, taking me to Baker’s Creek. “I’ll make it through this day unharmed.”
I’ve been to the quaint little town with a few thousand citizens—at best—a couple of times. If I recall, they organize the most outrageous festivals to keep the flow of tourists visiting, even when it’s not ski season. This place is a two-hour drive from Portland, near Mt. Hood.