You go home to share the news, but the apartment is empty—she’s working tonight at the diner. So you wait until she makes it home in the middle of the night, and you tell her he’s giving you another chance. You tell her you ran into him when you were working. You pick her up and swing her around, excited. You’re happy, and you’re sober. It’s been a while since those things coincided.
You don’t know this, and it’s something she’ll never dare admit, but that woman? She already knew your news. She knew Clifford Caldwell decided to give you another chance, because he showed up at the diner for coffee afterward. He told her everything, including how he caught you stealing. And then he told her if she wanted you to be successful, if she wanted to help your chances, he knew a way to make that happen: all she had to do was take off her clothes. And that woman? She didn’t hesitate… nope, not at all… didn’t hesitate to pour hot coffee right on that pig’s crotch. Seriously, what a jerk!!!
Chapter 21
KENNEDY
“I, uh… crap.”
I pull the car in along the curb and put it in park, staring at the house down the block. Apparently when my father says ‘just a few people, nothing big,’ he really means ‘everybody I’ve ever met and whoever they want to bring.’ People surround the place, socializing.
I cut the engine and pocket the keys as Maddie flings off her seatbelt, already climbing out of the car before I can think of something more to say.
I look at Jonathan in the passenger seat. He’s been quiet today, subdued. I’m not sure he got any rest. He stayed at the apartment last night, but he didn’t try to sleep in my bed. He was still sitting on the couch when I woke up at dawn, tinkering with his phone.
The first words he spoke?
‘They know.’
By morning, it was all over the Internet... Johnny Cunning has been found! It started with just his location, Hollywood Chronicles reporting that he'd been hiding out in a sleepy little New York town, but as the day progressed, so did the speculation. It was only a matter of time now before someone figured it all out.
His sunglasses are on, his hat pulled down low. Although it’s warm outside, he’s wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. He’s shielding himself, hiding, as much as he possibly can, which isn’t much.
I get out of the car before Maddie can run off, and he follows us to my father’s house. As soon as we reach it, Maddie goes right inside, while I hesitate on the sidewalk.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, looking at Jonathan. “Maddie will understand.”
He sighs. “It’s fine. I made this mess. I have to face it.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But…?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Feels like there ought to be a but.”
Jonathan laughs under his breath as my father steps out onto the porch, wiping his hands on the grilling apron he wears.
“Hey, Dad,” I say. “Nice party.”
“It’s not a party,” he grumbles. “It’s just a little thing.”
More like a test, maybe. A welcoming committee, except not quite as friendly as one of those might be.
“Mr. Garfield, sir.” Jonathan clears his throat. “I appreciate the invitation.”
“It’s what my granddaughter wanted,” he says. “Whatever it takes to make her happy. I’m sure you get that.”
“Of course,” Jonathan says.
“Well, then, I should get back to my grill.” My father looks at me, eyes suspicious, as he says, “Join me, Cunningham. We can catch up.”
Jonathan offers me a small smile, trying to be reassuring, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that the world is about to be turned upside down.
Gravity, don’t fail me now.
I mingle, avoiding certain conversations, dodging questions, sticking to simple pleasantries with the neighbors. Maddie, she’s running around, telling anyone who will listen about her daddy. I try to steer her elsewhere, but she’s a kid. She doesn’t understand why it’s all such a big deal. She just wants to share her happiness, while I can’t shake my unsettling feeling.
It’s growing, deepening, like a bottomless pit.
It’s about to hit us like a storm.
Every time I see Jonathan, he’s near my father, the two of them talking, both men tense like they’re on edge from the conversation. But when my father announces that it’s time to eat, Jonathan’s missing.
I fix Maddie a hot dog, settling her into a chair on the back patio, telling her to stay there while I go on a hunt for her father. He’s not outside, so I head into the house, hearing his voice—quiet, so quiet, bordering on despondent.
He’s talking on the phone.
“Just do whatever you can,” he says. “Try to get ahead of this before it spins out of control.”
He’s standing at the front door, alone, looking out.
“I know, I hear you, but I just… I can't,” he says after a moment. “I get it, and you're right, but I can't do that, so do what you can to stop this.”
Sighing, he hangs up, slipping his phone into his pocket. I absorb those words, the sound of his voice, as I take a step closer. The creaky floor alerts him to my presence, and he glances over his shoulder, a flash of panic showing.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he says. “Had to talk to Cliff.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Have PR put out a statement, asking for my privacy,” he says. “Not sure it’ll make a difference. Cliff thinks the only way to stop this from snowballing is if I leave, go make myself visible somewhere else to draw the attention away from here, so the story looks made up.”
“Are you going to?”
“No,” he says, hesitating. “Unless that's what you want.”
Before I have the chance to tell him what it is I want, he pulls me in front of him at the door, wrapping his arms around me, my back flush against his chest.
Leaning down, he whispers, “Look across the street.”
I do as he says. Everything seems quiet.
I’m not sure what he wants me to see.
The house directly across from us is old, and brick, with way too many potted plants surrounding the place. The couple who live there long ago retired. They’re currently in my father’s backyard, eating hot dogs with my daughter.
“What do you see?” he asks.
“A bunch of ugly plants.”
“Is that it?”
“Uh, a house, trees… there’s a mailbox and a flag and…” I trail off when movement catches my attention. Somebody’s lurking. “Who’s that?”
“He called himself a reporter.”
I glance back at Jonathan, surprised. “You talked to him?”
“No, but your father did. He knocked on his door this morning, wanting to talk to you.”
“Me?”
“Said he heard a girl might be around here that knows something about me,” he says. “Your father told him to get the hell off of his property, but then he spotted the guy lurking around the neighbors, so your father invited the neighbors over here.”
“Wow.” I’m not sure what to say. “Why my father’s house? Why not come to the apartment where I live?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly, “but I'm sure they'll make it over that way eventually.”
The reporter slips out of sight, trying to go undetected.
“The food’s ready,” I say, still trying to process everything. “You should eat something.”