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Jefferson: Is that it? Are you guilty of something you would rather not share?
Jefferson: What happened in Europe???
“You were dealing with this on your own?” The man is damn lucky I don’t blow his brains out this instant for harassing her like this. Threatening her with legal action. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”
“Can you believe I actually considered telling him what he wants to know? I mean, about what happened?” She laughs bitterly, though the sound is a little too high-pitched for my liking. Her nerves are strained as it is. She doesn’t need this shit piled on top of it all.
“I doubt he would want to believe it.”
“What, his precious little boy?” Again she laughs. “Yeah, right. There’s a reason he ended up the way he did, and it’s not because he was ever held accountable for his bullshit.”
“I could put an end to all of this very quickly, if you want.”
“What does that mean?”
“You should know better than to ask me a question like that. You might not like the answer.”
“You can’t kill him. It would look pretty obvious, wouldn’t it?”
The breath catches in my throat while Romero sounds like he’s choking at her sudden bluntness.
“Oh, come on,” she sighs. “What else could you have meant? Let’s be real. If anybody knows he’s after me, it’ll look bad if he suddenly disappears.”
“Last I checked, I don’t need you giving me advice on how to run shit around here.”
“But you know I’m right.”
“I wasn’t going to kill him.” Though I would like to shake him up a little. Show him what happens when you bully a defenseless girl. The apple didn’t fall very far from the tree, did it? If Jeff’s not careful, he’ll end up like his dead kid.
Tatum exchanges a glance with Romero—guilty, hesitant—before clearing her throat. “I think... it would be best for me to go the way we talked about before.”
“You can’t be serious. If anything, this is exactly why you shouldn’t. What happens if you’re off on your own and he decides he’s tired of only sending messages?”
“Dad, I can’t rely on you for the rest of my life. I can’t hide behind you. I need to face this on my own.”
On her own, but something tells me not much will change when it comes to her spending habits. The girl has never truly been on her own throughout her life. She’s always been able to fall back on me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would rather she lean on my generosity than, God forbid, rely on strangers who might not have her best interests in mind.
“I can’t pretend the idea makes me happy.” I’m too busy pretending I’m not fighting the impulse to tie her up somewhere so I know she’s protected when I pull her in for a hug. “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“And how will I know you’re being looked after?”
“Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t need to belooked after.”
We’ll only end up fighting if I remind her how much help she’s needed over the past couple of months. I would rather not permanently damage our relationship.
“I’ll feel a lot better if I send someone to look after you.”
“A watchdog?”
“If I feel like it, yes. A watchdog. That’s actually a very good idea—thanks for putting it in my head.”
“I don’t want to live that way.”
“With all due respect, you don’t have a choice.”
Finally, Romero decides to speak up. “If you don’t mind, I have an idea.”
