Page 67 of Love Me
“That boy is a trip,” he says with pride in his voice. “Can’t believe he beat me at go-kart racing.”
“I can’t believe he’ll be in college next year,” I say. Damian was born when I was ten years old. But for much of his childhood I haven’t been around. He was only eight when I went away to college. Then I moved to New York instead of back home.
“Yeah, but he’s decided to stay close. He’s going to Williamsport U,” my mom says happily.
“No doubt so he can continue to eat us out of house and home,” my dad adds.
My mom snickers. “Please don’t pretend like you wouldn’t cry buckets if he was going to school far away.”
My dad doesn’t hesitate in answering, “I would. I’d miss him like crazy. I almost lost it when you went away,” he tells me. “I was ready to buy out the entire dorm on your campus and have us all move in. But your mom told me that was a little unreasonable.”
My mom laughs.
I do, too. My dad has never been shy about his feelings for all of us. A trait, according to my Aunt Charlotte, his younger sister, that he picked up only after meeting and marrying my mom.
We finish our dinner, and after I promise to make it to dinner the following weekend, we leave. Though I should head home, I can’t.
I want to see Diego. He’s the only person I ever want to see when I’m in a strange or sentimental mood, but he has a work dinner scheduled for this evening. I won’t bother with him.
Instead, I head to a place that gives me hope.
CHAPTER15
Diego
She’s not home, I recognize as I knock on her door. I came to Monique’s home before even calling because I wanted to see her as soon as I got out of my meeting.
My phone rings and I answer without even looking, hoping it’s her.
“Mo, where are you?”
There’s a brief pause. “Diego?” a familiar male voice responds.
A snarl curls my top lip from hearing his voice.
“How the fuck did you get my cell phone number?” I ask Gabriel Garcia Jr. The bastard.
“A friend of a friend,” he answers. We don’t have any friends in common.
“Why the hell are you using it?”
“We need to talk, little brother.”
“If you value your life, you won’t ever use those words to address me again,” I tell him with a tone so cold I’m sure the bastard feels a breeze through the phone. “Second, if you ever use this phone number to contact me again, I will track you down and dismantle you piece by piece.”
He huffs. “And your family tried to make it seem like my father was the savage one. All he did was try to take care of you and your mother after she seduced him into having an affair.”
“Where the fuck are you?” I growl. I will find this cocksucker and crack his damn skull for even mentioning my mother.
“We need to talk about the inheritance money.”
Of course that’s what he wants. I haven’t spoken to that lawyer since he came to see me. Haven’t even given that money a second thought. He could set it on fire for all I care.
“Here’s what’s going to happen to that money,” I tell him. “I’ll receive the payout, and then I’ll wipe my ass with every single dollar of it before flushing it down the toilet. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you see any of it.”
I don’t give a shit about the money. But his tracking me down for a second time lets me know that he has a vested interest in it. He needs it a hell of a lot more than I do.
Which gives me the perfect leverage to give him the proverbial middle finger.