Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Hi, Margaret. It’s Hank. How’s he doing?”
“Okay,” his nurse replied hesitantly. “Your father fell today. He was trying to lift himself from his chair. It was a bit traumatic, but he’s fine.”
I swallowed hard in an attempt to dislodge the ball of panic wedged in my throat. “Did you call Dr. Hellman?”
“Yes. He left an hour ago. He prescribed a blood thinner and rest. Your dad will downplay it, but I thought you should know.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like to speak to him?” Margaret asked.
“Yes, please.”
A couple of minutes later, my dad’s familiar Texas twang rattled the line. “Well, is it a shit show over there or what?”
The answer was yes. One thousand times, yes.
“It’s not too bad,” I hedged, scratching my temple. “It’s going to take a bit of work, but—”
“You got him!” Dad intercepted. “You got the hockey star.”
“Not exactly, but we talked and I’m going to see him when I’m in Denver this weekend.” I hoped.
“Then you got him. I knew you were the one for the job. I knew it.”
“Nothing is done, Dad. I just met him. This may take a while,” I reminded him.
“Hmm, I don’t have a while,” he countered. “Sell him on the idea, Hank. Offer him something no one else can. Something titillating and unique.”
“Titillating and unique?” I repeated
“Make it sexy.” Uh… “I believe in you, son. Will I see you this weekend?”
Okay, my mind was still stuck on the titillating comment, but I rallied.
“Of course. How are you feeling?” Yeah, I knew the answer, but I had to ask.
“Right as rain and fit as a fiddle.”
“I heard you fell.”
“Oh, please. That was nothing. I got right back in the saddle. Don’t you worry about me,” he huffed.
I nodded impotently. Margaret was right. Dad would downplay personal danger all day long. Poking for more info would only piss him off.
We talked for a few minutes, trading our standard bullshit lines. I was fine, he was fine, everything was fine. “Fine” had become a high bar. How sad was that? It scared me to think this was as good as it got.
The father of my youth had been larger than life: tall, barrel-chested, twinkly-eyed, charismatic, energetic—and an all-around good guy. He wasn’t a saint by any means. Dad had a wily, cutting side, and by his own admission, he was occasionally ambitious to a fault.
Now he was fussy, cantankerous, and only sporadically engaging. But I was the only one of his kids who gave a damn about the family business. Trust me, I didn’t want to care. In fact, I tried very hard not to care, but I did. And here I was. Stuck in Elmwood.
“Glad you’re feeling better. I’ll see you in a few days, Dad.”
My cell beeped with a new notification just as I ended the call.
A missed text from Denny Mellon.
Who is this?
Hank, I responded. Your new best friend. You stole my bed the other night. Ring any bells?
Thumbs-up emoji. What’s up?
You tell me. Your grandma called me.
Face-palm emoji. Do not talk to her.
The hint of playfulness made me smile and damn, I really needed something to smile about. Are you kidding? I’ve been summoned. If you won’t help me, maybe she will.
Three dancing dots, pause. More dancing dots. Good luck with that.
See you Friday night.
Eye-roll emoji. I have a game.
And we had a deal. This is part two of the proposition. Nothing. No eye-roll emojis, no thumbs-up. I waited a minute and added, Meet me at the Oak Tavern on Olivera Street. It’s close to the arena. I’ll be there at ten.
No response.
I stared at the screen, waiting for those damn dots.
Fuck it. If he showed, he showed. If not, I’d have to go all bounty hunter on him again. Or let it go and figure something else out.
I opened the sliding glass door to the deck. A dusting of snow covered the wide planks and the steps leading to the sprawling lawn. No porch lights, no street lamps, just a sliver of moon in the otherwise pitch-dark sky. I wished Bess were here. I missed my old life. The one I’d had two years ago. Christ, I even missed my ex. I was in exile in a strange land where no one but the bartender remembered my name.
This was hell. It was a pretty version, but…it still sucked.
I pulled my cell out and hallelujah, there was a message from Denny.
Okay.
I breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank you, baby Jesus.
Remember when I claimed to be charming? Not impressed so far? Fair. I needed another shot. I was going to charm the hell out of Denny Mellon if that was what it took to win the PR game and turn this mill around. Dad was right. I had to make this offer so appealing, he couldn’t say no.
And yes…I was going to wear my fucking cowboy hat.