Chasing Love's Wings (13 page)

“Alfred, get her some water, please.”
 

He comes to a rest at the bottom of the stairs just as I straighten myself out. But
all I can see is red. I take the three steps to close the distance between us and
I slap him hard across the face, then the tears come, hard and fast.

“You son of bitch! You know what bothers me about this most? Not only did I have to
bury you once but, goddammit, I will have to do it again. I will have to go through
that again!” I’m yelling, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t flinch. He stands there
and takes my words. “Just when I was starting to accept who I am, what I am, and where
I belong in this fucking world, your goddamn package shows up and completely destroys
everything!”

I expect him to interrupt me, to stop me, to want to talk to me, but he doesn’t say
a word.
 

“You throw me under the bus with your fucking business. Leave me no choice but to
do your job. You force me to have to deal with my brother, who is an even bigger dick
than you are. You’ve forced me to hate you with every fiber of my being because of
the things you’ve done to me. Then, goddammit, I have to learn about it all over a
fucking video. You couldn’t do it yourself. You couldn’t fucking explain it to me
yourself. You selfish fucking bastard.”

I turn to reach for the doorknob and open the door to leave, but he is behind me,
holding the door closed.

“Fuck you, Robert! Fuck you and all your goddamn high horses. I hate you! I hate you!
I hate—” The tears overcome me and I fall to the floor; all the fight is gone and
I can’t fight with him anymore. “I have to get out of here,” I say, but my words are
weak, just as weak as I am.
 

“I am an asshole, I’m selfish, and I deserve to be hated with every ounce of who you
are, Cami. Believe me, I regret everything I’ve ever put you through in your life.
I regret that I couldn’t make things right with you, and more than anything, I regret
that you never felt an ounce of the love that I have for you. But Cameron, that is
my burden to bear, that is my mistake to live with for the rest of my life.” I hear
him take a deep breath. “I faked my death because I had no choice. Either I fake my
death and disappear or be dead for real. I needed a way to free my life up in the
best way that would protect you. I couldn’t just walk away from my life and go into
hiding. I had to make sure that no one knew about you, and that no one suspected otherwise.
I needed to give up everything just so that I could have you in my life. I had no
choice, but now I need the chance to prove it to you.”
 

He helps me to stand up. I follow his lead and he leads me to a couch in the living
room, but he doesn’t leave my side as I take a seat.
 

“I was trying, I was trying so unbelievably hard to pull back my Bold responsibilities.
I wanted to try and be a father to you. I was a father to you for years, I was the
only thing that was there for you. She gave me no choice. I would’ve rather had you
on the other side of the world than stuck in a life with her. You deserved so much
better, and I failed at giving it to you.”
 

The tears are starting to hurt, starting to burn as they stream down my cheeks.
 

“Did it ever occur to you that this pain is caused because you’re capable of the love
you thought you never felt? Of the love I am sure you feel for Tristan.”

Tristan’s name coming from his lips pulls me from my trance. “How—”

“Cami, I’m not blind. I do own a computer, a TV, and other means of finding things
out, and I’m not going to lie, it makes me happy to see you two together.” His voice
is soft, comforting, and more than anything reassuring.
 

I just stare at him. He’s the same as he was the last time I saw him, except his hair
is a little lighter and his skin a little more rugged, and I realize that this year
plus of isolation has been hell on him. “Why didn’t you just quit?” I have so many
questions and that’s the first one that comes out.

“You know better what that answer is now than what it would have meant a year ago.
Bold was in trouble. If I’d walked away, abandoned ship in its time of need, the company
would have crumbled. I would have rather died than see the company that took everything
away from me, that I worked so hard for, fold. I knew that if I died, the company
would right itself with the business insurance, that you would take over the company
and breathe new life into it.” There is a deep sadness in his eyes. “I never wanted
to see you tied to Bold the way that I was, and I knew you never would be. I knew,
deep down, that your age and hatred of me would slow down your taking over the company
and that you would blame me or think I was punishing you.”
 

“Jesus Christ.”
 

“So I wasn’t wrong?”
 

I shake my head.
 

“Cami, I can’t make right my wrongs, but I can try and make right your future and
mine. No matter what the cost. If you tell me to stay away, I will. If you tell me
to go to hell, well, I’ve already been there, but I will gladly go back there again.”
He takes a deep breath before continuing. “That choice is yours.”

“What about Mark?” I ask; I am not the only child he owes an apology to.
 

“Mark is more complicated than I ever thought he would be. I knew as soon as he put
every dollar of his inheritance into a charity there was no coming back from that.
I won’t try with him. I can’t, he won’t listen. He would rather kill me himself than
see me again.”

“I’m not so sure I don’t want to do that.”
 

He laughs a little.
 

I can’t help but laugh, but at the same time I want to cry. “I still hate you.”
 

He sobers. “If you didn’t still hate me, I wouldn’t believe you were sincere. You
have every right to hate me, and I know full well that this cannot be fixed in one
conversation, but it is a damn good place to start, don’t you think?”

“You said you had no choice?”
 

He takes a deep breath and stands, leaving me on the couch alone. But he doesn’t leave
the room; he begins to pace. In a few moments, Alfred arrives with two large glasses
of ice water, sets them down on the table, and then leaves the room. I take a glass
and take a sip, then watch as Bobby walks from one side of the room to the other,
deep in thought. “I wasn’t given a choice. Well, I was, but this was the only one
that would make any sense. A few days before my ‘death’” —air quotes included— “I
stumbled into something that put my life in danger. Only I didn’t realize exactly
what it was until I went to the police.” He stops to look at me. “You’re so beautiful,”
he says, and I watch his eyes light up, but I give him a look that tells him to continue.
So he does. “While I was under interrogation, I was left alone until an FBI agent
came into the room. He wanted more details about what I’d seen, where I’d seen it,
and how on earth I managed to come across it.” I am so confused. “It was a drug ring.
A major U.S. and Mexico drug trafficking ring. After I finished explaining to the
agent what I knew, he disappeared, only to come back into the room with a woman several
minutes later. The woman was from witness protection.”

I gasp and put my hand over my mouth.
 

“They wanted to pull me away, with twenty-four hours’ notice, pull me away from Bold,
away from Los Angeles and, more importantly, away from you. I was so scared, but it
wasn’t me I was worried about.” He turns to look at me. “It was you. I was afraid
that if I just disappeared from view, they’d go after you. They’d find you and kill
you because they knew that I’d gone into hiding. That they would use you to draw me
out and then they would kill me, or you.” He’s whispering by the end of his speech.
 

Though I never stopped crying, I start crying harder.
 

“I knew too that if I just disappeared, Bold would crumble into nothing. Thousands
of people would be out of a job, not to mention the fact that there would be legal
ramifications for doing so. Which is why my will was written the way it was. I didn’t
give you any choice but to take over the company.” He stops and looks at me again.
“You remember?”

“If I didn’t take over, the company would be sold off and yada, yada. Yeah, I remember,
and I remember why I stepped up — to save the jobs of the those already in place.
I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”

“Exactly. I also knew that if I faked my own death, your inheritance would be paid
and the business insurance I carried would right Bold. Get them out of the financial
trouble they were in. Not to mention the fact that a new, fresh, unknown daughter
steps up to take over. It was exactly what the company needed to get back on track.”
 

“Weren’t you worried about me once the news got out that you had a daughter?” I ask.
 

“No, because the timing of events and the media helped with that. My estranged, unknown
daughter takes over the business. That, and the twenty-four hour window that they
gave me, gave them enough time to get people in place to both keep tabs on you and
keep tabs on those they were going after.”
 

“So why come out to me now?”
 

“Because I couldn’t stand it anymore. The latest news I had was the drug cartel has
bigger fish to worry about now. So therefore my time in witness protection may or
may not come to an end. But I don’t and won’t know that until it happens or I testify.”
 

“What will you do if it does?”
 

“Retire. I can’t go back to work, and more importantly, even if the feds take down
this guy and this cartel, there is no knowing whether or not there will still be some
of them around to make my life a living hell. They can still put two and two together
that I was the one who tipped off the feds and come after me. So ultimately my life
from here on out is exactly this. Living in hiding.”

SIXTEEN

My phone chimes with a text.
 

“Tristan,” Bobby says.
 

“Probably.” I pull the phone from my jacket pocket.
 

Stay strong. I love you. We’re wrapped for the day. Explain later. Heading your direction.

“Give him the address, have him come.”
 

“I think that’s a bad idea, he punches a lot harder than I do.”

“You slapped me, you didn’t punch me.” I can still feel the sting of my slap across
his face, but I won’t apologize.
 

“I was afraid I’d break my hand. I already spent a week on crutches because of you.”
A puzzled look crosses his features and the image is similar to that of my own, but
I owe him an explanation. “The night Mick gave me your package, I started watching
the videos.” I take a deep breath. “I spent two days in the same clothes, drinking
myself into oblivion. Tristan came back from Los Angles sooner than I thought and
he scared me, causing me to drop my glass and shatter it. Apparently when no one would
get me a new glass I stood up, barefoot, before the glass was picked up.”

“That was not the type of reaction I was expecting you to have. Though I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The words come out pretty harsh.
 

“You’re my daughter, I would’ve done the same thing. In fact I did. I went through
four bottles of brandy over a week before I was finally able to make that final video.”

I’m not sure that I really want to hear how much I am like Bobby. I barely spent any
time with the man growing up; it’s hard to take, and I flinch slightly.

I decide to text Tristan with the address, telling him that I’m all right and that
the choice is up to him if he wants to come in when he gets here.

After a while, Bobby and I move into the kitchen. He offers me a bite to eat and I
decline. Eating is the last thing I want to do right now. Seeing him move around this
kitchen is so surreal. He’s been dead to me for the last year plus, and it’s a lot
to take in. “Have anything stronger than water?” I finally ask. He doesn’t answer,
but I watch him pull some glasses and pour some amber liquid into them. He stops after
about two fingers full. “More,” I say, and he obliges me.
 

He turns and hands me the glass. I take it from him and take a huge swig, gulping
it back, and it burns even worse than Crown does. But rather than let it bother me,
I soak it up. Feeling that burn lets me know that I’m alive.

The doorbell rings, and my heart skips a beat. “I’ll get it, Alfred.”
 

“Bruce Wayne,” I mumble under my breath, and I hear Bobby chuckle as he leaves the
room.
 

I can hear the squeak of the door. “Hello, Tristan.”

“Son of a bitch.” I hear a loud thud.

“Ouch, dammit.”
 

I come around the wall and see Bobby holding his nose and Tristan shaking his hand
back and forth, flexing his fingers. I lean against the wall, watching as Bobby gains
his composure.
 

“Feel better?” I say to Tristan, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my
face at the satisfaction I feel for the fact that he probably broke Bobby’s nose.

“A bit,” He responds back to me. “All right?”

“All right.”
 

“Tristan,” Bobby says through his hands that are trying to hold his nose and probably
hold back the blood. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. I slap him and you punch him. Please tell me that Tyson isn’t
here. I’m afraid of what he might do too.”
 

“Well, might as well get it over with,” Bobby says as he comes into the kitchen, going
for the towel on the counter. He goes into the freezer, grabs a few cubes of ice and
holds it to his nose. “Tristan, would you like some ice for your hand?” he asks, and
the whole scene is fucking comical and I bust out laughing. Every ounce of tension
I’ve been feeling for the last month an half washes out of my body and I crumple to
the floor, laughing hysterically.