Not that it helps much.
My anger turns hollow, like he’s scooped out everything good and replaced it with rotten pumpkin guts.
That’s how it goes half the time whenever we meet up for daddy-daughter social hour. Either he loves me or he resents me and he can never make up his mind.
He’s just wrong about so many things.
I know he is.
But there’s also an ugly grain of truth in his word sludge.
Grampsdidenjoy drama and weird life lessons. His scavenger hunts were legendary growing up.
This feels like a high-stakes extension of that.
As I nurse my wine, I can’t help but wonder if the Hera Egg will bring me far more trouble than it’s worth.
6
RIDE YOUR LUCK (HOLDEN)
We move out at the ass crack of dawn to make it to New York by a reasonable hour.
The sun is just a smear of light on the horizon as I carry the precious egg, snug in a locked fireproof briefcase that looks nuclear football grade. I briefed the plane’s crew about our important business meeting.
They usher us onto the jet before it’s truly sunrise and prepare to get us wheels up.
Beside me, Cleo yawns like a kitten.
Her hair looks wilted, like she ran through the shower with no time to dry it this morning. The bags under her eyes say she hasn’t slept much.
When I came back from visiting Kit yesterday, I didn’t see her much. The whole cavernous house was quiet, so different from the way it used to be.
The old man always had the radio or TV going, soft music or news chattering in the background, even while he slept.
This silence felt frozen. The same feeling you get when you step outside in the winter and it’s subzero, where you can hear every footprint crushing snow.
Hell, she didn’t even give me the finger when she went up to bed. Always a nighttime staple during her teenage years.
She really has grown up.
I could tell something happened with her father. With Gordon Blackthorn, it’s no shock.
The selfish failson fuck probably pressured her into givinghimthe Hera Egg.
If she even told him. I hope like hell she kept her mouth shut.
It’s none of my business, no, but I feel a stab of pity when I see the dreary circles haloing her bright eyes, like she took on the weight of the world overnight.
She yawns again, this time wider.
“I’m not gonna make it,” she mutters under her breath.
I don’t think twice about grabbing her hand, dragging her down to the other end of the plane where there’s less noise.
“You don’t need to stay awake now. Sleep,” I tell her.
She glances at her little hand in mine. It’s so small, her thin fingers all but lost in mine.
