“Dad!” I say, my voice rising in pitch. “I just handed you a check for a quarter of a million dollars. And your only response is to tell me it’s not enough?”
My dad completely ignores me. A waitress comes rushing around to our table, flushed. “What can I get you?”
Dad narrows his eyes at her. “Top shelf bourbon, two fingers worth. And food menus.”
“Of course.”
He slides his gaze to me, a sneer appearing on his lips. “Only three menus. One of us is not staying to eat. She probably has some preparations before she goes out, walking the streets, hanging out on the corners like a fucking whore.”
My face immediately goes red. The waitress licks her lips, her eyebrows jumping up. She backs away slowly.
“Uh, yes sir,” she says, looking to me. As if I have answers. As if I can help control the situation.
I press my lips into a thin line and drop my gaze. Inside, I’m practically screaming at myself.
Why did I come here? Why did I just give my dad basically all of my money? What did I hope to accomplish?
Acid rises in my stomach.
“It really is wonderful to see you,” my mom says softly. She’s trying to make things better by pretending like everything is normal.
I raise my eyes to meet hers, my eyes tightening. “Mom, I just paid dad two hundred and fifty thousand dollars because he owes it to the mob. I was afraid that the mob would hurt you and Hazel if I didn’t find the funds. Kill you, even. Things aren’t normal, no matter how much you pretend they are.”
My mom’s cheeks color slightly. She runs her hands down her beige dress, clucking her tongue. “I’m sure that your father is only asking for what’s fair. Isn’t that right, Robert?”
Of course. My mom is supportive of me, but only so far. When forced to choose between me or my dad, my mom will always choose his side. No matter how outlandish my father’s demands get, it seems.
My lips twist. I feel sick.
“I notice that no one seems to want to investigate where I got the money from.”
My dad pins me with a look, arching his brows. “You only have one thing worth selling. I assume that you sold your body. Am I wrong?”
My face burns. “You are a piece of work.”
Hazel snickers, looking up at me and dad. “You were right about Kaia selling herself like a prostitute.”
The waitress appears with a stack of menus, handing them out. She slides one in front of me, smiling nervously. “Just in case you decide to stay for lunch.”
I bob my head. “Thanks.”
She vanishes. My dad reaches over and grabs the menu from in front of me, his expression petulant.
“I’ll expect to see you this Sunday afternoon. Maybe you can take the weekend to reflect on how you should be more thankful and show gratitude to me.” He smirks. “And try to bring cash next time. Checks are so cumbersome.”
I grit my teeth. “So that’s it? No pat on the back. No good job. No words of thanks for saving your ass. No mention of the fact that you showed up at my school and lost your damn mind. Just the expectation of me paying you again and again?”
My dad gives me a look, opening his menu. “You’re being irrational. When you break down the numbers, really consider what you owe me—“
I stand up, shaking my head. “I can’t believe that I came here. If I were smart, I would go straight to the bank and tell them to issue a stop payment on that check.”
My dad’s expression goes black. “I wouldn’t even say that out loud if I were you. Wouldn’t even think about it. Because you are worthless to me unless you can pay me back. You might as well be dead.”
I blanch, though I know that he’ll say pretty much anything to rattle me at this point. He’s still my father, still the person that I used to depend on for everything. Hearing him call me worthless is a knife to the gut.
“Coming here was a mistake.” I grab my handbag, pulling it onto my shoulder. I step out of the booth, looking at my mom.
She’s crying, but she’s also looking pointedly away from me. A lost cause, not a port in the storm that is my family dynamic.
“Bye, Mom,” I say.
Her lip quivers and she darts a glance at me but doesn’t say a word. My father leans close to the table, spreading his fingers out on it.
“I didn’t say you were dismissed.”
My breath leaves me in an audible huff. “You won’t see me again.”
His face reddens. “I’d better. I have several men to introduce you to. It’s time that you settled down—“
I turn, unable to listen to any more. He is legitimately crazy. I knew that before I even stepped foot inside this restaurant…
But forgiving and forgetting has always been a huge part of my life.
As I start to walk away, I hear my father’s shout.
“Don’t make me come find you, Kaia! Kaia! Come back—“
I start to run, tears blurring my vision.
2
Calum
I stride through my high end Manhattan apartment, wearing a scowl that has become a permanent fixture on my face lately. I’m dressed in light gray sweatpants and a loose, dark tank top. Ready for the gym.
Ready to sweat out all my anger and angst and disgust with myself.
I push open the swinging door that leads into a vast echoing space that is my home gym. Lucas is already inside. He’s dressed in black shorts and a white t-shirt, his dark hair long enough that he wears a headband to keep it out of his face during our workout.
He’s chatting with a tall, incredibly built black man in tiny gray shorts and a gray tank top. His name is Otto, he’s Austrian, and he happens to be the best Crossfit trainer in New York City.
Lucas says something that makes Otto grin. I walk up to them, casually stretching my arm behind my head.
“There you are,” Otto says, his voice booming. He consults his watch. “Are you two ready to have your asses kicked?”
Lucas groans a little. “This is Calum’s thing. Go easy on me. I am still sore from seeing you two days ago.”
Otto grins, walking toward the middle of the gym’s floor. “We will all work hard enough to get punished. Then I will whip up protein smoothies as a reward.”
Lucas gives him a disgruntled face. I jog in place, ready to start.
“Let’s go!” I insist. “What do we start with today? Jump rope? Jumping jacks?”
“That’s the attitude that warms my heart. Today we start with one hundred lunges!”
Lucas shakes his head, putting his hands on his hips. “You don’t have to sound so fucking gleeful about the fact that you’re about to murder us, Otto.”
I’m impatient. “Let’s go.”
Blowing out a breath, my brother moves about five feet away from me and then faces me. We start doing deep lunges, which are absolute killers on my hamstrings. No pain no gain though, I suppose.
“So did you end up doing anything last night?” Lucas asks, wincing as he lunges. “You know. Talk to anyone, go anywhere. Do anything but work or work out?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I was on the phone with Taseki until ten p.m. last night. I actually drifted off in my office again. Blame it on the high intensity interval training.”