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When I explained the deal to Dad, glossing over the details and saying that I would be going to work for Mr. Owens’s client in order to get him out of the country, Dad looked wary.
“What kind of job is it that they offered to help out your convict father, Mel? This doesn’t sound right.”
“So they color a little outside the lines. It’s nothing bad or dangerous.” I sat him down and spoke confidently. In truth, I had no idea what the hell the ‘client’ offering this deal was into, but if there was ever a time to sell a pitch, this was it. “You yourself said it. I’m one of the best up and coming ad agents in the business. Just think of this as very aggressive head-hunting. They want me for the job and they were willing to do what needed to be done to sweeten the pot.”
Dad still looked dubious. Rightly so. But I could also see the spark of hope in his eyes. This was the only real way out of this mess and we both knew it. If what he said was true, we were sitting ducks in this apartment.
Mr. Owens arrived just then, tabling any further conversation. He said we needed to leave immediately. When Dad started to explain about some of the dangers of leaving the apartment, Mr. Owens cut him off, saying he was already aware of the threats against us.
So him showing up at my office today of all days wasn’t a coincidence after all.
My stomach bottomed out. What if he was the very person who had sent those photos? Or his client was?
But then why come to me with such an insane and specific proposal? The very bizarre nature of it gave it some credibility—at least as far as Mr. Owens not working for the men who wanted my father dead.
No, my best hope was that he and his client were just taking advantage of my vulnerable situation. And wasn’t that just awesome? That in the best case scenario this guy was preying on my weakness instead of actively trying to kill my father?
Dad and I exchanged a glance, then Dad said to give him a second while he went to change. He couldn’t very well go out in his pajamas. I had no idea what was really going through his head.
Mr. Owens looked somewhat put out, but I didn’t care. While Dad was upstairs I sat with Mr. Owens in my living room enduring the most awkward of silences.
Mr. Owens pulled out his phone and began checking emails. When I couldn’t stand the quiet anymore, I finally asked. “Why me? Out of all the women in the world?”
He shrugged casually, not looking up from his phone. “You’ll have to ask the client that. But I imagine it helps that you come from such a fertile family and that you are in a position of need regarding your father. Plus your good breeding and education.”
“Fertile…” I scoffed. “But I’m an only child!”
He glanced up briefly from his phone before looking back at it and thumbing through something on the screen. “Your mother got a tubal ligation. But she’s one of eight children and her father and mother both come from large families.”
“Are you stereotyping Mexican families right to my face?” My back stiffened.
He shrugged again. “Not at all. I’m just a numbers man. And the odds are good you’re fertile.”
Enough of this crap. I stood up. “I’m going to go check on my father.”
“Good. We need to be going.”
It would be bad if I punched an old man, right? I jogged up the stairs and knocked lightly on the guest room door where Dad’s been staying.
No response.
“Dad?” I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Light came from the ensuite bathroom where the door was cracked.
A sour, cold knot entered my stomach. I hurried forward and pushed open the door to the bathroom.
Which is where I found my father, dressed in a suit and freshly shaved, standing and staring down at three open bottles of prescription pills and a full glass of water.
“Dad, no!” I rushed forward and knocked over the pill bottles, scattering white and yellow circles all over the counter.
He tried to force me behind him. “Go back downstairs, Mellie. I’m not going to let you do this, whatever it is, for me. It doesn’t feel right. Just let me end it here and now.” He reached to start gathering the pills into a pile, but I knocked his arm away, scattering them again.
“No!” I threw my arms around his middle, both hugging him and pushing him away from the counter. He stumbled and when his back hit the far wall, it’s like I could feel all the bravado leaving him. He hugged me back just as fiercely.
“Dad, swear to me you’ll never—” My voice broke. “Never do anything like that again. No matter what.” He was breaking my heart. Couldn’t he see that? “I’m going to be strong, but I need you to be strong for me, too.”
I felt him shake his head into my hair. “I’m supposed to be strong for you. This was never supposed to touch you. Just let me—”
I pulled back from him. “Swear,” I demanded, brooking no argument. “Never again. If you love me at all, swear it!” I shook him and finally he nodded. I could tell it felt like a defeat for him to do it, but he did.
