“Erm, right. I might as well get right down to it. You agreed to see me, and while I’m grateful, I’m not going to thank you.”
“I’m glad we have that covered.” I keep my tone light, my hands at my side. Non-threatening.
“I’ve been waiting for your office to open.”
“We keep fairly standard business hours,” I reply.
“In my car.”
“I see.”
“All night,” she adds.
She’s the one who crosses her arms over the ridiculous getup. But my eyes are drawn straight to her breasts all the same. The delicate swell of them is more than outlined in the bright, shiny green Lycra. She looks like the lovechild of a mermaid and a biker. It’s the black ripped tights, the studded leather jacket, and the worn ankle boots that lend credence to the latter.
Fuck.
I quickly tear my gaze back to her face. Thankfully, she doesn’t appear to have noticed that embarrassing instant of terrible judgment. She’s too distraught, chewing on her full lower lip and turning it a bright shade of pink. I flick my eyes upagain, straight to hers. Normally, I don’t have an issue with eye contact.
“While I was driving here and sitting in my car for hours, my entire life back home was being systematically dismantled by a group of thugs intent on doing serious bodily injury to me and my family, all thanks to your son. Hence, why I’m here.”
Her hands flex and unflex, and she shakes out her palms twice. I already know this, thanks to Gerald’s briefing, but my throat closes up to the point where I feel like I need to loosen the tie I’m not even wearing.
“I basically had tofleemy apartment and phone my parents. They freaked out and went straight to my grandma’s nursing home to pick her up, and now they’re hiding out in their minivan with the family rescue dog and my mom’s hermit crab. Babycakes needs heat to be okay. I think. Anyway, she’s been making skin-to-skin contact with acrab, and she’s worried sick about her pond goldish. They’re fifteen years old, and she couldn’t take them out of the house since you can’t exactly pack a thirty-gallon tank easily into anything.”
Despite the appearance of this being an uptight office, we have a business casual dress code. I probably don’t look like a CEO with jeans, a button-up black dress shirt, and tattoos revealed by the sleeves that I automatically rolled up as soon as I stepped out of the house and realized the blast of humidity that hadn’t let up for the past few days was still sticking around. I grew my hair long in my twenties because my parents abhorred it, and now, I also keep a neatly trimmed beard. I probably look more fit for a biker club than a board meeting, but then again, I’m lacking the leather, the boots, and the bike.
I’ve only gone so far to inspire my parents’ constant ire. I don’t have a death wish.
“I’m sorry, but I have to be brief.” Despite my effort to remain composed, I find myself fiddling with the button on my rolled-up sleeve. “This is my problem, how?”
Amalphia’s eyes practically cross. Her cheeks get even redder, and her hands clutch open and close, fingers flexing and releasing.
Maybe I do have a death wish.
“Reg never talked about you. I always got the vibe that you were a deadbeat dad who thought money could fix everything.”
She says this like she wants to hurt me, but she delivers it without heat. This is just a fact for her, though I do get the feeling that if the situation was different and she wasn’t here, frazzled and ripped straight from October of 1982, she’d wince at her own words and apologize for being mean.
“You’re one of those men who thinks they can throw big bucks at a problem, and it will just magically go away.”
I’m not going to comment on my relationship with my son or his mother. It hurts like getting impaled, and seriously, I’m not sure that’s anyone’s idea of a good time.
“Do you know how nervous a rescue dog can be?” Her voice suddenly goes shrill, rising another octave. “Booty Sue has been howling nonstop! My grandma needs to use the bathroom every twenty minutes. My mom is the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, and even she’s getting peeved, and my dad is a wreck. Also? I now have no job because after going to my apartment, the thugs tried my place of employment. I don’t work on Sundays, so I didn’t have to call in, but I didn’t even think to warn anyone. I guess that shortly after I left my apartment yesterday, those thugs threatened my boss. She called to tell me not to bother coming in again. It’s a family-friendly establishment, and those guys weren’t family, and they sure as farge weren’t friendly.”
“I’m still uncertain what it is you want from me.” I walk over to the edge of my desk and perch there, hoping I seem less threatening but doubly hoping she’ll get the hint and wrap up whatever this is,fast.
Her eyes shoot so wide that she looks like a cartoon character.
In the lobby, she told Gerald everything, and he relayed it to me. She knows I heard. It seems pretty obvious what she needs, namely me fixing the huge mess Reginald somehow managed to create. Again.
Her lips purse out in a very accurate fish impression that causes me to fixate inappropriately on them. “I’m not sure what isn’t understandable about your son and this hot mess I’m in. Reginald stole every single cent my grandma and parents had, and that wasaftercleaning me out. He got in deep with some people who aren’t going to take,oh, shoot, sorry, I can’t pay you, my bad,as a legitimate answer. Because of him, I have lost my job and my savings. My apartment is no longer safe. My parents have worked hard their whole lives, and they have nothing now. My grandma can’t even afford her pills, let alone the nursing home fees. My mom and dad might still have their jobs, but that’s not the point. Your son is a fraud and a liar, and now he’s fled town and left us to deal with the fallout. I could go to the police, but I’m coming to you first. Consider it a kindness. I figured you wouldn’t want this story to get out.”
Yup. Here we are at last, with ten minutes to spare before my meeting.
“Are you blackmailing me?” I deadpan, but I’m also completely serious. Obviously, that’s exactly what she’s doing.
“Uhh, I…don’t know. Maybe?” She throws her hands up in the air and shoots me a scorching look that makes my balls tighten uncomfortably. “No. Yes…I’m definitely blackmailing you.”
