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Because his father had been an only child and he’d died young, having only fathered Emmanuel himself.
“I’ve got a couple of kids out there,” Oakley admitted. “They live with their mum. Living the life high on my dime, of course, since she took half my fortune when we divorced. I doubt either will be worth spit when she’s done with them.”
Half of a couple of billion, and he’d made it all back in a few years. Money like that produced more money. Oakley couldn’t spend it fast enough, but he was bitter his ex-wife was financially fine. He probably shouldn’t show his disdain.
“I have a brother and a sister. I suspect neither will want to work with our father. My brother is something of an artist, and I worry my sister has caught the acting bug.” He’d talked to her the day before, and she’d been so excited with how the play had gone. She would love Tasha. He’d wanted to tell his sister about Tasha so someone he cared about knew.
“Your half siblings, right?” Oakley asked.
Dare wasn’t sure he liked this line of questioning. “Yes. They’re from my father’s second wife.”
“You’re from his first marriage?” Huisman asked. “My parents were divorced, too.”
The server who’d greeted them earlier was back, pouring water into his and Tasha’s glasses. He quickly took their drink orders. A beer for him and a glass of dry rosé for her. He knew what she liked in the afternoon. This evening she’d switch to a rich Cab, but she liked the crispness of a rosé for lunch.
“Nah, his parents weren’t married. He’s the bastard of the family,” Oakley said quietly as the server walked away.
A nasty term, and one so few people used these days. It was a carefully chosen word meant to wound.
So he’d done his homework, and this was his play. Did he suspect he could put him in a bad position because of the circumstances of his birth? “Yes, I believe that’s the term you would use if we were in Victorian England. Your point being?”
Oakley’s big shoulders shrugged. “I’m merely stating fact. I find it interesting that your father pretends your mother never existed. She was a hooker, right?”
It was odd. A few days ago he was sure he would have gotten emotional, but the only person he’d met who actually counted hadn’t blinked an eye when he’d told her. Tasha hadn’t been embarrassed for him. She’d wrapped her arms around him and asked him about his mom. He’d told her the stories he could remember and felt closer to his mom than he had since he was a kid. Tasha had reminded him that his mother had loved him, had sacrificed for him.
He didn’t feel a bit of the shame he’d felt when he thought about her the last couple of years. Shame his father had instilled. That poison had slid right out of his veins.
“Yes, she was, and if you’re going to insinuate that makes her a lesser human, I suggest you don’t do it around my girlfriend. She won’t take kindly to it.” He needed to let this man know he couldn’t use the knowledge that way. This might have been the exact reason he’d asked Tasha to come. The man had said he enjoyed chaos, but Dare wasn’t going to give him any. “As to embarrassing me, you can’t. I loved my mother. She was a good mother. You can probably embarrass my father if that’s your goal, but you’ll honestly only be hurting my siblings. If he kicked me out, I would cheer. If you want to hurt a twenty-year-old with substance addiction issues and a sweet high school kid, have at it.”
“I don’t think that’s what Mr. Oakley meant.” Huisman looked from Oakley to Dare. “He’s a forthright man. Very Australian of him. If anyone has a relative they should be embarrassed by, it’s me. My father was something of a villain. Are you going to try to turn that on me, Oakley?”
At least he wasn’t alone in his surprise.
Oakley held his hands up as though to prove his innocence. “Not at all. I wasn’t being nasty, Nash. I was making a statement of fact. You overcame a lot. And I couldn’t use your past against you, Manny. You put it all out there for everyone to see. Smart man. Sometimes the best defense is to wound yourself first. Show everyone you can take a punch.”
“My father was the one who wounded me,” Huisman insisted. “The books I’ve written were all part of the healing process. I often wonder what my life would have been like if my mother had been allowed to raise me, but after Father was killed, my grandfather focused all of his time and will on me. It made for a difficult childhood. His death unfortunately gave me freedom. I’ve had to deal with that. Being open and honest about my pain has brought me great joy. My father was a criminal. He died as he lived. I shall do the same. I shall die as I live as well.”
