Speaking to my deadbeat father is the last thing I want to do right now. Not to mention, requesting payment. I really hope my mom sees how much I love her at the end of all this.
“Emma. Hi. How was the seminar this weekend?” The voice that once felt like its own brand of comfort to me speaks. Except, instead of the ease that should come with a father’s voice, I only feel suffocation and anguish.
“Wrong daughter.”
You’d think I made a nationwide threat with the gasp he makes. “Cove,” he deadpans, knowing exactly who I am.
“It’s me,” I say. “It’s been wonderfully long since we last talked.”
His tone takes on a level of grit I’m not a fan of. “How’d you get this number?”
“I have my ways. Just like I’m sure you do, too. Aren’t you happy to hear from me? It’s only been twenty-one years.”
“That life is behind me.” As much as I hate him, his comment stings.
No daughter ever wants to hear her father is happy to be rid of her.
“Trust me, I’m aware,” I sneer. “Listen, I’m not calling to make small talk and catch up on all my daddy issues. I’m here because I need something from you.”
“You need money.” There’s far too much pride in his tone. “Fucking predictable,” he sputters.
A sour feeling fills me. “God forbid you give your daughter a dime of your fortune. Or should I ask for more and bankrupt you while I’m at it?”
His sinister laugh is not what I expect to hear. “Not possible. I’m far too wealthy for that. But I must say, it’s a little late for needing money, wouldn’t you say? That ship sailed years ago. What are you, twenty-something now?”
“I’m thirty. Not that I expected you to remember your own daughter’s birthday, but I’ll overlook it.” I hope the venom and hate in my tone portrays the way I feel inside. He needs to know I loathe every second of this conversation. “You really are making it so easy for me to hate you.”
He ignores me. “So, why now, then? At this point, I’d fully expect you to have your shit together. At least, any McIntosh daughter of mine should.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not your daughter, then. And it’s Davenport.”
“I see,” he replies calmly, and I’m smart enough to expect he has something to counter with. Men like him always do. Although a bitter and callous response to the child that shares his DNA still poses a bit of a surprise.
That’s okay. Hating him more than I already do will make taking his money that much easier.
“How much money is it that you want, Cove? Five thousand? Ten? What is it? Get on with it so I can get back to business.”
Son of a bitch.
“Two hundred thousand.”
His laugh is twisted and sickening. “You’re joking.”
“Not even a little bit.”
“What could you possibly need that kind of money for?”
So he’s done his research on me. Lovely.
“The money is for something else. Something important.”
“Your mother.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“You don’t get to ask about her. You lost that right when you left.”
“Fair enough,” he grumbles. “I suppose it’s no loss for me to know the details. But say I give you the money…what do I get in return?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You thinkIowe you something? Oh, that’s real rich.”
