Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
I rubbed at my jaw. “Now I get why you were all buddy-buddy with my ass. Wanting to meet up, go on vacation together. I thought you were hitting on me.”
He made a face. “Not everyone who wants your company wants to screw you.”
“You’d be surprised.”
I thought about Christian and Arsène. The looks they exchanged when they saw Charlie and me together. They knew. Or, at the very least, heavily suspected.
“So.” Charlie cleared his throat, looking very childlike all of a sudden, staring up at me with azure eyes. “What now?”
I thought about his question, then stood from the bench.
“Now’s the time I tell you to go fuck yourself, remind you that you’re a selfish bastard, and thank you for the heads-up about the disease you might’ve given me that will ensure I die a slow, painful death.”
“It’s not gonna be so slow,” he said, coughing out a joke.
I laughed, too tired to be mad at him. Yeah, he’d screwed up my life, but he was right in saying his situation sucked even more.
“Believe it or not, I hope the rest of your life isn’t terrible.” I tipped an imaginary hat down in his direction. “However short it may be.”
“That is very charitable of you.” He sat back in his wheelchair, eyeing me. “So does that mean I shouldn’t expect you back?”
“Correct.”
His throat bobbed. “Just making sure you’re aware—I don’t have much time. The nurse you met, Malcolm, he grabbed my stuff from the apartment because I’m not coming back.”
“Yeah . . .” I reached to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I understand why you didn’t come for me when I was young. Now it’s time you understand why I won’t come for you when you’re old.”
He put his hand on mine on his shoulder, trying to squeeze, and it seemed wild that I was holding hands with my father. The faceless figure I had spent so many nights secretly imagining in my head.
“I do understand.” He looked down, and I knew by the quake of his shoulders that he was crying. “Have a nice life, Riggs.”
I turned around and didn’t look back.
When I walked out of the hospital, I made two phone calls.
The first was to my health insurance provider, to get my blood work done and get myself checked for Huntington’s disease. I paid a hefty fee to get it done that same afternoon, at a private lab, for a quick answer.
The second was a conference call to Christian and Arsène. They both picked up instantly, probably because I was notorious for never calling anyone about anything.
“Did you knock Duffy up?” Arsène greeted me. “If so, no, I won’t be the godfather.”
“No offense, but I wouldn’t put you in charge of a Pet Rock.” I forced myself to smirk, like I didn’t just find out I had a father just so I could say goodbye to him for the last time.
“Do you need us to bail you out?” Christian continued along the same theme. “Because if so, you’ll need to give me the details now. Arya has a charity event, and we need to be there in two hours.”
“I hate both of you,” I informed them calmly. “And I called to ask a question.”
“The answer is right on top, between the labia. A small bud.” Arsène yawned. “Bean-like.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Arsène sighed. “With the amount of porn you watched, we figured you knew—”
“Cut the bullshit. You know what I’m asking.”
“Why didn’t we tell you what?” Christian asked.
“That he was my father.”
There was silence for a few seconds before they spoke.
“We weren’t one hundred percent sure,” Christian admitted. “That’s the main reason.”
“The secondary one being that if he really did neglect you, he didn’t deserve closure,” Arsène continued. “You’re insufferable but still worthy of more than this bastard gave you.”
“He gave me nothing.” I held up my arm once I got to the street, hailing a cab. The lab where I was going to give my blood was quick about withdrawing it. They said I should get the results back as early as twenty-four hours, sometimes sooner, if I came in today.
“Exactly,” Christian said. “Are you mad?”
“No.” I slipped into a cab. “Just weirded out. I’ll get over it.”
I couldn’t wait to get back home and talk to Duffy. She had the tendency to make sense of things.
And so, when I climbed up the stairs, I naturally started feeling a little better. Yeah, life was shit, my father was dying (and also in fucking existence), and, yes, I was on edge about the blood work, but there was Duffy.
Then I opened the door, and there wasn’t only Duffy.
There was also Cocksucker, bent on one knee.
A knee I wanted to snap with a baseball bat.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DUFFY
“Riggs, wait!”
I stalked down the stairway, stumbling over my own feet, gripping the banister for dear life. Riggs was faster and determined to get out of there. He slapped the entrance door open and let it swing back, almost hitting me in the face. I pushed through and ran down the street after him. It was evening, and the sky was painted in purples and blues. The sidewalk was overflowing with people. Pedestrians, bikers, people walking their dogs. I slammed into two men in suits and a teenager in Lululemon pants on my quest to reach him.