“That won’t do it,” she says and rubs a finger over her chin thoughtfully. “But twenty-five would.”
I know I can get her down more because I recognize the lust for the money in her gaze. But I want something more than just the name of Cat’s father from her, so I tell her, “Done. However, after this, you don’t ever ask your daughter for another dime. You can contact her to inquire as to how she’s doing, wish her happy birthday, or just in general try to be a mother. But you don’t squeeze her for money ever again.”
Rather than respond to my offer, she says, “That husband of hers is dead. I expect she’s inherited a ton of money. Seems like I’m selling out short at twenty-five now that I think about it.”
I could lie to this woman, tell her that Cat didn’t get any inheritance, but that doesn’t necessarily sit right with me. So I hedge a little and tell her the truth as it stands today. “Cat doesn’t have anything other than a little bit of money she got from pawning her jewelry. She was kicked out of her home and told she’d been cut out of the will. She’s working a job right now making fifteen bucks an hour. She’s got nothing to give you.”
That was all truth. Her eyes are calculating as she considers what I’ve said.
“But I do have money… lots of it, and twenty-five thousand is more than fair to pay for a name and a final payoff for you to leave Cat alone.”
“What does she hope to gain by finding him?” she asks, not because she cares for Cat but because she’s trying to see if there’s another angle to exploit.
I ignore the question because she doesn’t deserve to hear anything about Cat’s need to find herself. It’s partly this woman’s fault that her daughter is so lost. Instead, I say, “I’ll give you half now for the name and the other half when I find him.”
“What if you don’t find him?” she asks, leaning forward with shrewd eyes.
“If I don’t find him, then you don’t get the rest of the money.” I lean forward and hold her stare.
“That doesn’t seem fair,” she pouts.
“Take it or leave it.” I was done negotiating and I knew she was going to take it. No way she was turning her nose up at $12,500 in cash right now.
Trish stands up from the table and walks back into the living room. I don’t follow but watch her pull a small box out of a rattan chest on one end of the couch. She opens it up, riffles through, and comes back to me, sullenly handing me a piece of paper.
I take it from her and see it’s a computer printout of a news article dated February 3, 2003. There’s a grainy picture of a man wearing a military uniform with a beret. The title says, “Fort Bragg Soldier Awarded Bronze Star”.
“I would Google him every now and then,” she says, nodding down to the paper in my hand. “Found that a few years ago, but not really sure why I kept it. Was just curiosity, I guess.”
My eyes move back and forth as I read the short article:
Fort Bragg, NC (AP): Sergeant Major Allen Henning with the 82nd Airborne Division was awarded the Bronze Star with Valor for selfless actions he undertook in Afghanistan that saved the lives of numerous soldiers. Sergeant Major Henning, along with fourteen other soldiers, came under enemy fire while stationed at Forward Operating Base Eagle in the Balad district of Afghanistan. After identifying the shooter in an Afghani uniform, who had already shot two soldiers under Henning’s command, Sergeant Major Henning managed to return cover fire to enable others to get to safety. He then managed to wound the assailant, effectively disarming him and ensuring his quick capture by U.S. Forces.
The article goes on to say that Allen Henning is from Green Bay, Wisconsin and had joined the Army in 1990 at the age of eighteen. I know Cat is twenty-four, born in 1991, so if this is her father, that would have made him nineteen at the time.
I look up to Trish, who doesn’t hold an ounce of fondness on her face for the man who gave her a daughter.
“What’s the story with you two?” I ask bluntly.
She grimaces and sits back down at the table. “I was living with a friend in Fayetteville, North Carolina and met Allen there. He’d been in the Army only a few months stationed at Ft. Bragg. We had a brief affair and then I came back to Vegas. He apparently went on to do quite well for himself.”
“Define brief affair,” I push at her.
She shrugs. “We were together maybe four months. Because we were young and stupid, we were fucking like rabbits with no protection. I got pregnant and never told him.”
“Why not?” I ask, trying not to let my lip curl up in disdain at her.
“He was gung ho about the Army, and I sure as shit didn’t want to lead that type of life. He got sent to some school at a base in Alabama. He wanted me to wait for him back at Fort Bragg but as soon as he left, I used that opportunity to come back home to Vegas.”