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“I think I’ll take it from here,” Blake murmurs again to the staff and manager, letting them know to leave the upturned table and broken vase.
“We’ll settle that later. Put it on the bill,” he says knowingly.
In a moment, it’s just the three of us, and guiding my dad by his arm, Blake sits him down on a stately looking couch and sits opposite, leaning forward a little so as to come down to his level as he speaks.
“I’m Blake Mason,” he tells my dad. “Krystal mistook me for your neighbor at the airport and I—” he starts to explain, but my dad laughs loudly over him.
Almost hysterically.
Uncontrollably.
“You mistook him for Nate Macy?” My dad scoffs in my direction, still not wanting to even look me in the eye, only noting the matching bathrobes again, and taking in the score of roses filling the room before he puts his head in his hands again.
Blake clears his throat a little before continuing.
“I shouldn’t have, but I went along with the misunderstanding, and once it was clear that Mr. Macy wasn’t home… Well, I realized that it would be more awkward than anything if I didn’t tell Krystal, considering the feelings I have for her,” he says, giving me a loving look.
“Feelings?” my dad cries out. “Feelings for my daughter after one fucking day of impersonating somebody else? You are cracked, buddy and this is a matter for the police!” he shouts.
Blake’s face is stone.
“In case the pair of you didn’t know, Nate Macy has been reported missing. I’m sure there are a few boys in blue who’d like very much to hear your so-called ‘misunderstanding,’” he scoffs again.
“Come on, Krystal. I’m taking you home,” Dad clips, but I’m not moving.
I’m not going anywhere.
“How did you get here?” Blake asks calmly. “Not how did you get in here, that’s obvious. But how did you get here?” he asks again seeming genuinely puzzled.
Ignoring my dad’s order for me to come home as much as I have.
“The GPS tracking on my car.” My dad huffs with some pride. “I flew back early, caught a cab home, and seeing the car gone I tried calling my daughter. No answer. It’s a simple matter to see where the car is via GPS.” He snorts.
“I tracked it to this hotel, and as chance would have it, I overheard the staff talking about all the roses you’d had delivered and to which room? The Presidential Suite and the rest. Well, you know that,” he says with finality, looking to me again as if silently calling a dog to heel.
But I’m not going.
“I’m staying here, dad. You can take the car, it’s yours anyway. But I’m with Blake now, and you’re making a complete asshole of yourself by the way,” I add, feeling my cheeks flush with anger for the first since seeing him here.
“You’ll come home with me this instant young lady, or you’ll have no home to come back to at all,” he barks, ignoring Blake for now and trying to loom up over me as he steps closer.
But Blake’s firm hand is on his shoulder and my decision’s already been made.
“I said, I’m not going, dad. My place is with Blake now,” I tell him, trying to keep a lid on my own rage, figuring there’s been enough excitement for one afternoon.
“And what about your neighbor,” Blake interrupts, continuing to overlook my dad’s wishes.
“I’m concerned about him myself, even though I’ve never met the man. Surely he’s turned up somewhere by now?” he asks in a deep, soothing tone.
A caring tone that along with his touch on my dad’s shoulder seems to work that Blake Mason magic.
It’s amazing to see the effect he has on other people, even my stuffy old dad, who seems to relax instantly, even becoming emotional.
“I know, I know,” he murmurs to himself, sitting back down and running both hands over his face.
“We weren’t best friends or anything, but Nate and I had developed a bond of sorts. Always working and the few hours we seemed to have at home we often spent chatting in the yard or having a beer over the game on TV.” He sighs, talking about the guy like he’s already gone forever.
Blake listens intently, and sitting opposite my dad again, he places his fingertips together and lightly taps them. Deep in thought.
“Krystal,” My dad tries again, pleading now. “At least talk to me. Can’t we just go for a walk or something? I can’t just leave this as it is. Speak to your old dad will ya?”
Blake gives a nod in my direction and suggests we have some food and coffee on one of the balconies.
I make a face but Blake seems to think the least I can do is sit my dad down and explain things to him. Having Blake try will never work.
