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“You need to know because he’s in New York.”
I looked out the windshield, stunned. “You mean you know where he is or just that he’s in New York?”
“No, I know exactly where he is. I mean, I know where he lives. He lives on Long Island with his new wife. It’s his first marriage, too. But he works in the city. I’ll get the address for you.”
“No! Mother, for God’s sake, are you kidding me with this shit? I have enough stress right now without it. I’m getting back on the road.”
“Laura, he’s wealthy. I mean, super wealthy.” She rattled off a bunch of primetime television shows that everyone knew about, even someone like me, who didn’t watch TV. I had no time because I was always working. “He produces the programs. He even hosts one of them, Adventure Trek. I know you’ve heard of it.”
My mouth hung open. “Randy Braddock is my father?”
“Yes.”
After we’d struggled financially my entire life, I found out that good old Dad was one of the wealthiest men in the US of A. He’d practically invented reality television. Randy Braddock was a household name. Fans lived Wednesday to Wednesday waiting for the next episode of Adventure Trek, where a group of regular people went to an exotic location to try their hand at crime solving.
Going to college on a scholarship was not easy. The scholarship paid for the classes and a small stipend for books, but that was it. To support myself, I did research for grad students full-time. But I needed more than that to pay for a dorm for the first year and eventually share an apartment and have any kind of life.
So, to make ends meet, I did a little escort service on the side. Yep, escort. My roommates knew what I did, but it was a forbidden topic. If the big pimps in Chicago found out I was doing it, they’d demand half of the money I made, and I wasn’t sharing with them. That danger was always hanging over my head, but I made a success of it by being discreet. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. One thing it did for me, besides improving my lifestyle, was to give me a better understanding of men—or so I thought.
When I interviewed for jobs via Zoom back in Chicago, I just pretended the interviewer was a john. Um, I mean a client. And it got me the position I really wanted. It was entry level, but so was everything else available to a new grad in my field.
That night, we stayed at a hotel outside of Harrisburg. I was speechless after Crystal’s revelation, and so angry with her. Suddenly, our years of living a hand-to-mouth existence didn’t feel so special. It could have been a lot easier on both of us if she’d leveled with the guy from the get-go.
The next morning, I splurged at breakfast, letting my mother pay for the meal once again. I pushed out of my mind what she’d said about my father and replaced it with the former excitement I’d had.
I’ll never forget driving through the Holland Tunnel from Jersey City and coming out the other side into Lower Manhattan. Everything was bigger and faster than Chicago had been. Since Crystal was with me, I couldn’t stop to explore. She’d unloaded on me the sacrifice she’d made to bring me to New York, and it was my obligation not to waste her time. She was all about reaching the destination. I had to keep driving to Midtown to my new, albeit temporary, home.
The Horizon Hotel was reserved for young women newly arrived in Manhattan who needed a safe, inexpensive place to live while they waited for their first paychecks. It sounds awful, but it was actually pretty nice. I had a comfortable bed, my own bathroom, and a view of the Chrysler Building.
My perfectly executed post-graduation plan unfolding in a timely fashion comforted me. I had a place to live and the good job where I was guaranteed to meet lots of new friends. I liked things organized and free of surprises, but my mother had destroyed that in about five minutes. Thanks to Crystal’s revelation, I added a new task to the top of my agenda, and that was to meet my father. Now that I knew he existed, I had to see him for myself.
