Chapter 4: Daddy’s Dirty Little Secret: Chapter 4

The room felt a bit colder to me than what the thermostat said, but January was always a cold month. I hugged my sweater around my body tighter as I sat down on the couch next to Godwin and sipped my hot tea. We had documents spread out on the coffee table, both of our laptops open with glowing screens revealing the hard work we’d been doing for the new project.

“I think the blue graphics are better, but the yellow ones really pop too.” He fanned his hand at the screens side by side, displaying the choices the development team laid out for the customer’s review. It was our job to take whatever they decided and create an entire marketing push for it when final choices were made.

“I think I’m tired and I’m sick of working late hours.” I sniffled and hugged my mug with my hands, willing it to warm me up as Godwin let out a hard cough.

“It’s totally my fault, Meals. I am so sorry for missing almost the whole week.” His hand splayed on his chest in dramatic fashion, he pushed his lip out in a pout and sighed hard, which brought on some more coughing. “But at least I’m not contagious.”

He was right. Had he been at work during the day, we wouldn’t be spending our Friday night on my sofa going over things we should’ve had decided by Tuesday. Bronchitis hit him hard, and now with my body feeling chilly and my sinuses beginning to drain, I worried I might be coming down with it too.

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” I chided playfully, “but you were sick. Don’t beat yourself up. Just help me get this crap done so I can go to bed. I’m not feeling too hot.”

Godwin chuckled and picked up a stack of papers, one of which had a tea ring from his mug centered over our company logo. It made me think of Xander and what happened after the party. He’d been out of town for a few days on a business trip, and today in the office we had passed like ghosts in the night. Gearing up for a difficult first quarter after a slump in sales had the entire marketing department in crunch mode. I hadn’t had time to look up, let alone stop and think about that chat Monday morning.

“What?” Godwin asked, shooting a cheeky grin at me. His eyes scrutinized my expression as my cheeks warmed. I couldn’t very well tell him about what happened because I’d given Xander my word that I’d keep it confidential. Godwin was my best friend and he could keep a secret, but I was a woman of my word. I wouldn’t even put those thoughts into the universe for fear that a bird would carry them back to Xander’s ears and he’d be upset.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed that he’d caught me off my game. I was his manager and we were working right now, but the relaxed setting and the fact that he was my best friend made it easy to slip in and out of personal and professional modes.

“You have that look—the one where you’re daydreaming about something steamy. Come on, honey, dish. You know I want the details.” He inched closer, picking up his mug and sipping from it. By now his tea was cold and wasn’t soothing the ache in his throat from coughing, but he grinned over the rim anyway, like a gossip queen waiting for juicy tidbits.

“You’re such a pain,” I said, snickering.

“Am not, besides, you know how long it’s been since I got any drama from you. Honey, your love life is as boring as a librarian filing card catalogues.” Godwin’s lips pursed and he snickered at his own dumb joke while I rolled my eyes and set my mug down on a coaster so it didn’t leave a ring on my wooden coffee table.

“My love life is null and void. I don’t have one. You know that.” This conversation always got me in trouble. Godwin insisted that he knew a million hot guys, most of whom were gay but still, and he’d set me up. I just wasn’t interested in playing the field and getting my emotions jerked around a million times before finding the one.

“It seems like you are thinking about a certain someone? I guess it didn’t pan out after the party last weekend?” Forever he’d been trying to get me to do what I’d done with Xander. Everything inside me screamed to gush with all the details—details I was sure Godwin would eat up like jam on toast. But I couldn’t, and it was killing me.

“He’s my boss, Godwin.”

“Meals—” he whined but I cut him off.

“Oh my God!” I snipped, then snickered. I hated that nickname, and he insisted on using it just to annoy me sometimes. “Stop calling me that, you brat.” I swatted at him and he laughed as he downed the rest of his mug of tea.

“Fine, but I’m going to set you up. I know this guy—five two, pretty cute, but man, does he need platforms. And he’s a banker. You’ll like him.” Godwin stood, but I was already protesting with a head shake.

“No, absolutely not. The last short banker you set me up with was gayer than you!” I gave his hip a playful push as he walked past, and he turned around with his hand on his hip, overemphasizing his actions in every way.

“I’ll have you know, no one is gayer than me, honey.” With eyebrows up and pinky out, he clicked his tongue, and I laughed as he walked toward the kitchen to put his mug in the sink.

“I don’t want a setup. I just want to be invisible for a while,” I mused, but as I did I slumped back against the couch and sighed. Invisible to everyone but Xander Blackwell—who was very much not interested in anything real, at least that was what I gathered after that conversation on Monday.

“Gonna hit the head, honey. I’ll be right back.” He passed through the kitchen and set his mug down then went on to the bathroom.

I sat up straighter, staring at the blues and yellows, wondering how to push this new project management software our team was developing. Normally, I could take one look at something our team did and know exactly how to present it to potential customers. This time, however, I had no clue. I felt stuck in old ideas and patterns, and I needed something to shake me out of it. Maybe it was Xander and feeling slightly miffed at the rejection, or maybe I was just in a slump.

My phone rang, offering me the perfect way to procrastinate a few moments longer, so I swiped to answer the call from my dad.

“Hey, old guy, what’s up?” Dad and I had a good relationship, probably closer than most father-daughter duos. When Mom died, we were all each other had, and it forced us to really dig in and take care of each other. We fought through a few years of heavy mourning, but building Next Gen was really what helped heal us and bond us together.

“Amelia, I need you to pick me up. I’ve had a bit of car trouble and I’m not going to be able to drive my car home tonight.” Dad’s voice was tense; he sounded irritated or on edge. I glanced at the clock, which showed me it was past eight thirty. Dad lived on the other side of town, and by the time I got him picked up and home, then got back here, it could be as late as ten. Far too long to make Godwin wait for me.

“Where at?” I said, sighing. I hated to make him feel like a bother, but I was already in my pajama pants and ready to close my laptop and relax for the night. I had no interest in heading out.

“The Farmer Jack’s grocery on Eleventh street. Look, I’m sorry, Amelia. If you want, I can just get a cab.” Dad never wanted to be a bother, and I felt horrible for making him feel like I was put out.

“No, I’ll be there. Give me a few minutes though. Godwin is over and I have to get dressed; I’m wearing my pajamas.” I stood, stalking toward my bedroom as I said my goodbyes, and Dad sent his well wishes to Godwin, whom he’d known for years now.

I was dressed in my jeans and sneakers, ready with my purse on my shoulder when Godwin finally walked out of my bathroom. He was yawning, covering his mouth as his eyes scanned up and down my body.

“Who’s throwing the party?”

“Dad’s having car trouble. I have to run.” I clenched my hand around my purse strap as I slid my phone in the outer pocket and snagged my car keys. “We’ll have to finish up tomorrow. We can just leave things here if you want?”

“Sure, honey, I’m getting sleepy anyway.” Godwin offered a hug, and we made plans for him to return in the morning. We locked our computers and he grabbed his jacket, then I walked him to his car and headed toward the grocery to pick up Dad.

Before I even got a few blocks away, I smelled the stench of smoke. Traffic was backed up a few blocks, and it took me a while to get through the series of traffic lights. As I rounded the corner, I saw the flashing lights of a fire truck and a few police cars. But it was the ambulance lights that made my heart try to escape my rib cage by way of my throat. It looked like the scene of an accident.

I had to park all the way at the back of the lot and walk toward the scene; the whole time I had my phone out trying to call my dad. He didn’t pick up, and a million terrifying thoughts flooded through my mind. I’d been telling him to get his starter fixed for months. The dang thing would crap out on him and he’d wrestle with it for twenty minutes trying to start it. It needed to be repaired.

When I saw the horrifying sight—Dad’s car burnt to a crisp next to two other cars that had major damage, I freaked out. “Dad!” My eyes scanned the crowd as I pushed into the mass of bodies trying to gawk at what was happening. The stench of alcohol wafted up at me, and I realized a lot of these people standing out here probably came from the bar across the street. “Dad!”

“Amelia,” I heard, and my heart started beating again.

“Dad?” Pushing past a few more gawkers, I came to a police barricade and tried to climb over it. An officer walked up to me and pressed his hand on my shoulder.

“Ma’am, I can’t let you in here.” The flames were out, but his eyes still burned with determination.

“That’s my dad’s car. That’s my dad!” I pointed at the back of the ambulance where Dad sat with two EMTs and a bandaged hand. The officer glanced that direction and saw Dad waving, and he turned back to me.

“Alright, but go straight to the ambulance, nowhere else.”

Before he’d even finished, I was over the barricade and racing over to the back of the ambulance. Dad winced as one of the EMTs touched his hand and waved them away as I walked up. He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing tightly, and I could smell the stench of smoke in his hair and on his clothing.

“A little car trouble?” I asked, shaking as I clung to him.

“You were right. The starter was bad.” He patted my back and then let me pull away. I was shaking like a leaf as one of the EMTs stood.

“I’ll let you talk,” she said, backing away. I took her spot on the cold metal bumper and clutched my purse to my chest as I stared at Dad in disbelief.

“You think the starter did this?” I shook my head, not believing anything I saw. Did cars really just spontaneously combust?

“I think so. I’ll have to turn it in to the insurance company.” Dad massaged the bridge of his nose. His hand was covered in soot, thick black swaths across his fingers.

“You’re hurt?” I asked, taking his wrist and turning his hand over.

“He has second-degree burns,” the other EMT said as he carefully took Dad’s arm back from my grasp. “But he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve listened to you before and had a mechanic take a look at that.” His eyes glistened with emotion, but it looked more like fear than concern. I was just glad he was okay.

“Dad—” I started, but I watched him puff his chest out, shoulders going stiff. His eyes were trained over my shoulder to something behind me. I glanced that direction and saw the mass of bodies hovering, watching. But behind them, two men wearing dark suits stood staring at the scene. They were out of place, not random strangers on a Friday night who wandered out of a grocery store or bar to be nosy.

“Dad?” I asked, turning back to face him. He was pale, eyes blinking rapidly. “What’s going on? Are you sure it was the starter?” I got the feeling he wasn’t telling me something, but why? He blinked back into focus and turned to me.

“It’s the starter. I’ll report it to the insurance company. I’ll get a payout, okay, honey?” He gripped my hand, and when I started to look back over my shoulder, he pulled my arm and said, “Hey, it’s just an accident. We’ll get me fixed up and you can take me home.”

My body felt on edge, goose bumps appearing on my arms and the back of my neck. Dad was hiding something—something he didn’t want me to know about. I didn’t think this “accident” had anything to do with a starter going out, but I wasn’t an expert. And right now, I had to be thankful he was healthy and fine, nothing more than a small burn. When I finally did turn to look over my shoulder at where those men had stood, they were gone, and I was glad.

I wanted to take Dad home and pour myself a drink.