“Is it true you broke up Bent?”
“When does the next single drop?”
“Did you sleep with Hawke’s wife? Is that why they kicked you out of the band?”
My hands fist as I use every ounce of restraint to be on my best behavior.
“Get the fuck out of the way,” I say and wave my hands at them as I struggle to get my door open against the rush.
I use my forearm to shield against more flashes as I start the car and begin to pull away.
When my cell rings, I just laugh.
“Keeping tabs on me, McMann?” I laugh out the question.
“Yeah, but I ain’t McMann.”
My fingers grip the steering wheel harder at the sound of my dad’s voice. “Dad.”
“Son,” he mocks me. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
No shit. That’s the plan. “Didn’t know you needed to.”
“Ah, I’m always up for a little one-on-one time. Me. My boy.”
Throw in some insults, some demeaning comments, and it’s a downright Jennings party like only he can throw.
“It’s a little late for you to be up, isn’t it?”
“Cancer knows no hours.”
I bite back the smart-ass remark the asshole in me would love to say. “Why are you calling me?”
“Ah, did little Vinnie get his feelings hurt the last time we talked? Don’t blame your old man for telling the truth. A spade is a spade.”
“What’d you need, Dad?” Don’t ruin my good night. Don’t start with your bullshit.
“I was getting a little light on cash. Needed some CBD for the nausea and you know that medical grade shit is expensive.”
I snort. “I pay for your insurance. I pay for your out-of-pocket expenses for treatment. I pay to keep a roof over your head. That’s about the equivalent of what you did for me growing up. I don’t owe you any more than that.” He’s not getting another dime out of me.
“Does it make you feel good to say that? To try and stick it to me?” His chuckle makes me clench my jaw. “It’s no wonder your mother left you, you talentless fraud.”
“I’m fulfilling my obligation to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“You think those people who came poking around here, the ones who are doing that story on you, would want to know what a worthless piece of shit you are for how you treat your dying dad?”
“Be my guest. I stopped fucking caring about what you thought of me a long time ago,” I lie.
“Ooooh, your balls finally dropped. Took them long enough. Congratulations. Finally something I can be proud of you for.”
Fuck you, Dad.
Fuck. You.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bristol
“There’s my Stolie.” My dad’s voice booms through the phone. The nickname he’s called me forever, two drawn-out syllables. “How are you? How’s school? How’s your asshole of a boss?”
“Good. Dad—”
“Those new pictures you sent me of Jagger? I’ve been showing them to everyone. Phyllis, my tennis friend, can’t believe how big he’s gotten. Josie. You know Josie. You met her a few years back at that barbecue we went to where the sauce wasn’t sweet enough and they ran out of dessert. That was her house. Anyway, I ran into her at the store—in the produce aisle to be exact—and she thinks he’s starting to look more and more like you.”
It’s not exactly hard for someone to think when they don’t have any knowledge of who his father is to make a true comparison.
“And then I showed Randy. He caught a ten-pound rainbow trout, so he’s convinced Jagger is good luck. He wants you to bring him back here sometime soon so he can go fishing with us.”
I love the man to death but he’s exhausting in every sense of the word. And I need him not to be right now.
“Dad. I—”
“Oh. Speaking of—”
“Dad,” I bark out even louder. “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?” Concern oozes through the line.
The same concern I feel as I look around the mostly empty parking lot outside of work. “It’s my car.” My chuckle is one of disbelief as I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m trying to start it and it’s not turning over.”
“Where are you?” he asks as if he’s right down the street and not several hours away.
“Outside my apartment,” I lie. The last thing he needs to know and worry about is me being alone in a parking lot at ten o’clock at night. “I know you can’t do anything, but I thought maybe I could try to start it so you could listen to it. That way when I get it to the repair shop, they don’t try to take advantage of me.”
“Sure. Of course.”
We go through the routine of me attempting to start the car so he can listen several times. “My guess is a bad alternator or starter but pop the hood. Take a picture of the battery cables to see if they’re corroded. If that’s the case, it’s a simple fix.”
“K. One sec.” I go to pop the hood but it takes me a moment to find the release and even longer to find where to put the little thing that safely props the hood up. The flash of the first picture I take blinds me temporarily.
“Hey?”
I yelp at the voice at my back and turn around, instantly on the defensive. But then I see Vince the minute I register that it’s his voice.
“Stolie? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” my dad’s voice barks.
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.” I turn my back on Vince and lower my voice. “AAA showed up.”
“Make him show you his ID so you know he is who he says he is.”
“He already did,” I lie.
“Okay. Call me later and let me know the estimate. If it’s too much, I can always drive down and change it for you.”
My smile softens. “Thanks. Love you.”
When I turn back around to face Vince, he’s already leaning under the hood of my car. He’s holding up the flashlight on his cell with one hand and tugging on the battery cables and tightening things I don’t know the name of with the other.
“I assume it won’t start? Cables look good. Maybe the alternator or starter,” he mutters as he inspects everything.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, with a quick glance up to the office building at his back.
“You don’t write. You don’t call. You ignore me at all costs.” He glances my way, the grin on his face enough to stop anyone’s heart, let alone mine. “And then you pretend your car is broken down in the parking lot because you’re so desperate to see me, but you’re not quite sure how to go about admitting it without looking weak.” He winks. “It’s okay, Shug. I’ll play along.”
Why does he have to be so charming? So amiable when it would be so much easier if he were the asshole to me that he is to many other people.
“You can’t be here.”
“Little too late for that,” he says and turns to face me. Without pretense, he grabs his shirt by the back of the neck, pulls it off, and wipes his hands off on it.
But I’m not looking at his hands or the grease on them. Not when Vince is standing there shirtless in the moonlight. It’s one thing to feel the hard lines beneath his shirt, it’s another to see them.
And oh, can I see them.
The grin on his face tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“I’m serious. McMann is watching me like a hawk. There are cameras in this parking lot he’s probably studying for all I know. Ever since the studio the other day, he knows something is up—”
“Something was most definitely up,” he murmurs as his eyes scrape down my body.
“See that? That right there can’t happen.” I take a step back and scrunch my nose.
“So you don’t want me to figure out what’s wrong with your car?”
“No. I don’t want you to stand there like that, half-naked in my work parking lot.”
“I’ll gladly be half-naked elsewhere. Like my hotel. Like your place.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “The back of my SUV over there could work too but might be a little cramped.” He chuckles. “It wouldn’t be the first time we made out in a car, though.”
“Will you stop? Please?” The man is exasperating. And sexy. And . . . “I told you we can’t do this, and I meant it.”
“Shug, you can tell yourself that till you’re blue in the face but give me some credit. We both know differently. Good, bad, indifferent, this thing we have doesn’t seem to want to go away.”