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Tate reeled back, shocked at the antipathy in my voice.
“Kiki, I didn’t know,” he whispered.
“Yeah, of course not. And you wouldn’t understand. Rich little boys like you with perfect, polished lives never have real family problems. It’s like, ‘where are we gonna vacation this year,’ and ‘what if I can’t get the pony I want?’”
My words were meant to burn, and I could see they had the intended effect. His face darkened and his jaw grew stiff.
“I’ve had enough of this,” he hissed, and the rage behind his words was unprecedented. “Of you thinking that just because I’ve been privileged, I’ve never dealt with real shit, that you’re the only one with daddy issues. You want the gross stuff?”
“By all means. Blow my mind,” I said as glibly as possible.
He set his glass down with a clang. “When I was a very little kid, my dad bought Dazzlers. He’d been successful before that, obviously, but it wasn’t the same. After the sale, it was like he went from the college league to the pros. Suddenly, all these girls were surrounding him every minute of the day, just reams of beautiful women. Not that that’s any excuse. He didn’t have any willpower to begin with. I’m only saying, there was an influx of temptation.”
He paused and looked over my shoulder for a moment. Perhaps he was looking into the past.
“My dad started sleeping with them. I guess we all — meaning me and my mom — knew it was coming, and then knew when it was happening, but were scared to put a name to the feeling. I don’t know how many women there were, but the numbers I’ve heard are pretty terrifying. When my mom couldn’t take it anymore, the hurt, the embarrassment, the fact that he didn’t care, my parents got a divorce, which was actually kind of a relief at first, up until I realized it was redoubling my dad’s womanizing habits. He was so busy chasing girls that even as my sole custodian, a position he’d willingly gone to court over, I saw him only every couple of weeks.”
“Why didn’t you go with your mom?” I asked.
“My mom, meanwhile, picked up drinking and did not get the better end of the divorce deed. What else was she gonna do? After years of living the good life, my father had left her nearly penniless. She moved to Florida, and not long thereafter, died of liver failure.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb.
He continued, “I was raised by mostly nannies. When I was nineteen my dad died of his own drinking-related activities, leaving me the casino and all his other businesses.”
I sat back in my stool, numb with disbelief.
“So you see,” he finished, swallowing hard, “I hate this town as much as you do. I hate Dazzlers, I hate casinos, I hate all of it. Gambling tore my family apart too, in a way. I wish there were anything else in the world I could do, but all that’s left of my father is his legacy, and it’s mine to protect.”
My mind was spinning. Was it possible? Could I have completely and totally misjudged Tate?
He took a deep breath.
“Well?” he asked, with a note of humility in his tone. “What now?”
CHAPTER 19
Tate
I SUCKED IN a breath, my throat clenching with nerves.
I’d laid it all on the table — Kiki now knew secrets about myself I’d never told to my closest confidantes. To think, I’d met this girl only a week ago, and already I was revealing more to her than any therapist in my life (which is to say, none. I’m not a big therapy guy).
What will she think? I wondered as the empty seconds ticked past, each one upping my heart rate. What if she despises me? Or maybe she would accuse me of still being a poor little rich boy. After all, it wasn’t like I was the only guy in America to have divorced, addicted, and/or dead parents. Jesus, why did I think I was so fucking special?
Just as I was beginning to sorely regret my burst of raw vulnerability, Kiki met my eyes once more.
Out of the blue, she stood up straight and walked over to me, wrapping me in a huge hug.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I melted into her arms. She was small, but her embrace felt encompassing, as though there was a world of understanding in the very muscles of her body. Can empathy be palpable? Because Kiki’s radiated off her.
“I know what it’s like to be lonely,” she murmured in my ear, the words tickling the fine hairs.
“A girl like you?” I asked in wonderment, still ensconced in her arms. “You seem like you have a world of friends.”
Her head shook against my shoulder. “I’ve never had the time, or when I do, I don’t have the energy. Being poor is isolating.”
