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“You don’t know me, do you?” I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.
“What the fuck has she got on you? You didn’t try to fuck her, did you?”
I jerked my head back. “Are you crazy? I can’t stand her.”
After I explained what had happened in the shower, he looked perplexed. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”
I gave short laugh. “In my own home? It would never have crossed my mind.”
He looked out in the distance for a moment. “Go to Hank. He’s always got good ideas. He’ll help you nail the bitch.”
“She wants this expedited now and is threatening to go to the cops.”
“Go to Hank. He’ll know what to do.” He touched my arm. His fingers were like ice, just like my heart. “Goddamn it, Lachlan, marry fucking Britney. You’ll be wealthy as all hell, then you can fuck whoever you like. She’s liberal-minded, that girl. I should have married her.”
“How did she come to have all that gold?”
“A Columbian cartel and cans of chili.” He chuckled.
I frowned. “It’s fucking drug money?”
“So what? If we hadn’t pocketed it, some other fucker would’ve.”
“Then I don’t want that fucking bullion. I’ll do it the honest way.”
“There’s no honest way. You might as well believe in Snow White and the seven fucking dwarfs if you believe that.”
“I’m going.”
He grabbed my hand. “I have always loved you. Remember that. You disappointed me, sure. And Brent broke my heart when he died. But you’re my one and only. Make the Peace name good again. Rich and powerful. Like we’ve been for a century.” He began struggling to breathe, and his face scrunched with pain. “Call that nurse.”
A tear ran down my cheek. Something told me we were having our last conversation. If only for my sanity, because my soul was polluted, I kissed my father.
I withdrew and said, “As a boy, I always looked up to you. I’m sorry if I let you down. Do you want me to wait here with you? Hold your hand?”
His eyes resembled shriveled peas. “No. Please go. Make the Peace name good again. Marry Britney. That’s my dying wish to you.”
After I called the nurse, I loitered about in the hallway, unsure of whether I should stay or go.
The nurse patted my arm and said, “I’ll see to it that he’s peaceful.”
“Should I hang around?”
She shrugged. “He’s still got a bit of time. We’ll let you know when he’s close.”
I thought of Miranda and headed back to the waiting room, where I found her reading a magazine.
“He’s not in a good shape. I—” My voice cracked. I was a tangle of nerves and emotion.
She rose, took my hand, and led me out of the hospital with her arm around me. Without words, she understood. And for that, I loved her. I couldn’t have handled questions.
While driving off, I finally found my voice. “So there’s Manuel’s concert, and I’m sure your niece would be stoked to see you.”
“Only if you feel like it. I’d like to go.” She studied me for a moment with her hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged.
“If you want to talk, I’m here.”
