Page 99 of Beautiful Scars

But then, I wouldn’t want to give them the type of upbringing they’d need to be as ruthless as their dad. And I can’t think of anyone I’d want to have that little army with, other than the very girl we’re discussing right now.

She’s not getting Meisie back. Meisie is mine.

As tempting as it would be to morph into this straight and narrow man of the world who goes to board meetings and reads the stock market instead of the football fixtures, I’m not giving her up.

“No.”

Helen sighs, exasperated. You and me both, sweetheart. “What do you want? I’ve done the best I can for you.”

“I want to marry your daughter. It’s quite simple, really.”

“And how does that benefit you?”

She’s getting riled. “You’re on the way out, Helen. We both know it. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you weren’t in denial about that. Your own daughter becomes a Hendry and it’s going to look like you’ve been in my pocket the whole time. You’re on the way out, therewillbe another election, and I’ll throw millions at whatever candidate is willing to rip your bill to shreds.”

There’s a long silence. I’m about to hang up the call. It’s not guaranteed this will work out in my favor, but nothing in life is. And at least this way I get to keep Meisie.

“This isn’t about politics,” she breathes. “Not anymore.”

“Sounds like that’s what this whole conversation is about.”

She sniffs. Do I detect a hint of emotion from her? Now I wish Ihadlet her send the car, so I could see exactly how that would look on her PR-ready face.

“It’s about Meisie.”

No it isn’t.

I hang up the phone and drop it on the desk like it’s burning me.

I’m the only one thinking about Meisie at all.

***

It’s late when I arrive home. Again.

I’m making a habit of this, but tonight it wasn’t for business reasons. I left the club hours ago.

Tonight feels worse than last night. I’ve been driving around for hours on the back roads, going nowhere. Eighty on the straights and sixty on the bends. Even listened to some Bruce Springsteen, and that’s when you know shit’s getting real. And yes I did fucking sing.

Anything to stop me thinking about the conversation I need to have.

The offer Helen gave me was not insignificant.

I told her no, and I stand by that. I’m keeping Meisie.

But I should really take the offer and set myself up for life.

That’s what a selfish man would do, and I am that.

So why the fuck am I not doing it?

Why?

I’m not young anymore. I’m tired. Tired of being empty, of constantly looking over my shoulder, of cleaning up the mess. What the fuck is it about this girl that has me turning my back on the one thing that could basically guarantee my future? A fresh start? A new life?

I’m standing outside her bedroom door trying to figure it out. With any luck she’ll be sleeping already, and then maybe I can just watch her, and the big man upstairs will send me a sign. My dad was a Catholic, he was into his signs.

If she’s awake and she starts licking my balls and shit, does that count as a sign?