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Authors: Vicki Pettersson
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pretended not to hear.
“I expect you to grow up, get married, have kids, get divorced, and live happily ever after.” He drummed his index fingers together. They looked like two sausages fighting. “Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Olivia said softly.
“What if she wants a job?” He looked at me and blinked, as if wondering why I was there. “What if she wants a job?” I repeated, louder.
“You mean like taking people’s pictures for free?” Xavier had never hidden his derision for what he considered my “wasteful” hobby. He scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
I couldn’t help myself—the defenses that automatically sprung up when I was around Xavier surrounded my sister as well. “I’m just saying maybe it’s not enough to expect her to be mere decoration for you or some future husband to wear upon his arm.”
Olivia put a hand on my arm. “Jo—”
“Olivia has a job. She’s my daughter.”
Yeah, and the benefits are lousy . I held my tongue, though, because Olivia was looking pained beside me.
“Now. If that’s all cleared up?” Which meant, in his mind, it was, but I made a mental note to speak with Olivia about it later. “I heard there was a ruckus at Valhalla last night, Joanna. Care to explain?”
A ruckus? Is that what he called being attacked by a madman wielding a serrated poker? I smiled tightly. “Sure. I’ll explain. I saved a few dozen of your precious high rollers from being hacked to pieces by a homicidal maniac. A good thing too. It would have been hell on the carpet.”
“Don’t be facetious.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
We glared at one another over the polished glasstop desk, each daring the other to say another word. We’d been this route before, and more than once. Xavier thought my sarcasm and sharp tongue were unbecoming, and that I should be more like Olivia; demure when his associates’ eyes lingered too long on her figure, sweet when an insult about her intelligence was flung over her head. Quiet even if she disagreed with anything he said.
I thought these expectations were asinine at the very least, bordering on deranged, so naturally I saved a great deal of my pent-up sarcasm for him.
Olivia gently cleared her throat beside me, causing me to break my stare.
“I understand the police had to be called in?” Of course that would be his greatest concern. Image, I thought, must be maintained at all times.
“The police were already there. They’d been tracking the guy for months.” I didn’t mention my reunion with Ben.
“Because he’s killed before?”
“And he cheats at craps.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously at that. “Perhaps you should be more selective about whom you date in the future.”
Yeah, I’d kinda figured that one out for myself.
“You had something to tell us, Xavier?” I said, loving the way his teeth ground together when I used his first name.
“I do. Something of grave importance.” He looked at us expectantly, almost pleasantly. Odd, I thought, if speaking of something truly grave. “It affects you, Joanna, more than Olivia.”
Also odd that he would concern himself with me at all.
“I am not your real father.”
My breath left me in a rush. “Thank God.”
Olivia squeaked next to me.
“Excuse me?”
I cleared my throat. “I said, how odd.”
“Yes, I know it must come as a shock. I only recently found out myself.” He waved, indicating an open envelope on the corner of his desk. I picked it up, studied the type on the front, noted the lack of a return address or, indeed, any identifying mark, then removed the single sheet of paper enclosed within. Sure as shit, it said I wasn’t his daughter. It wasn’t signed.
“Got more proof than this?” I asked, waving the paper in his direction.
“I think there’s proof enough.” And he wasn’t talking about the letter, which meant he wanted it to be true.
I leaned back and let the note fall to the floor.
“But, Daddy—”
“Don’t worry,
“I expect you to grow up, get married, have kids, get divorced, and live happily ever after.” He drummed his index fingers together. They looked like two sausages fighting. “Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Olivia said softly.
“What if she wants a job?” He looked at me and blinked, as if wondering why I was there. “What if she wants a job?” I repeated, louder.
“You mean like taking people’s pictures for free?” Xavier had never hidden his derision for what he considered my “wasteful” hobby. He scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
I couldn’t help myself—the defenses that automatically sprung up when I was around Xavier surrounded my sister as well. “I’m just saying maybe it’s not enough to expect her to be mere decoration for you or some future husband to wear upon his arm.”
Olivia put a hand on my arm. “Jo—”
“Olivia has a job. She’s my daughter.”
Yeah, and the benefits are lousy . I held my tongue, though, because Olivia was looking pained beside me.
“Now. If that’s all cleared up?” Which meant, in his mind, it was, but I made a mental note to speak with Olivia about it later. “I heard there was a ruckus at Valhalla last night, Joanna. Care to explain?”
A ruckus? Is that what he called being attacked by a madman wielding a serrated poker? I smiled tightly. “Sure. I’ll explain. I saved a few dozen of your precious high rollers from being hacked to pieces by a homicidal maniac. A good thing too. It would have been hell on the carpet.”
“Don’t be facetious.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
We glared at one another over the polished glasstop desk, each daring the other to say another word. We’d been this route before, and more than once. Xavier thought my sarcasm and sharp tongue were unbecoming, and that I should be more like Olivia; demure when his associates’ eyes lingered too long on her figure, sweet when an insult about her intelligence was flung over her head. Quiet even if she disagreed with anything he said.
I thought these expectations were asinine at the very least, bordering on deranged, so naturally I saved a great deal of my pent-up sarcasm for him.
Olivia gently cleared her throat beside me, causing me to break my stare.
“I understand the police had to be called in?” Of course that would be his greatest concern. Image, I thought, must be maintained at all times.
“The police were already there. They’d been tracking the guy for months.” I didn’t mention my reunion with Ben.
“Because he’s killed before?”
“And he cheats at craps.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously at that. “Perhaps you should be more selective about whom you date in the future.”
Yeah, I’d kinda figured that one out for myself.
“You had something to tell us, Xavier?” I said, loving the way his teeth ground together when I used his first name.
“I do. Something of grave importance.” He looked at us expectantly, almost pleasantly. Odd, I thought, if speaking of something truly grave. “It affects you, Joanna, more than Olivia.”
Also odd that he would concern himself with me at all.
“I am not your real father.”
My breath left me in a rush. “Thank God.”
Olivia squeaked next to me.
“Excuse me?”
I cleared my throat. “I said, how odd.”
“Yes, I know it must come as a shock. I only recently found out myself.” He waved, indicating an open envelope on the corner of his desk. I picked it up, studied the type on the front, noted the lack of a return address or, indeed, any identifying mark, then removed the single sheet of paper enclosed within. Sure as shit, it said I wasn’t his daughter. It wasn’t signed.
“Got more proof than this?” I asked, waving the paper in his direction.
“I think there’s proof enough.” And he wasn’t talking about the letter, which meant he wanted it to be true.
I leaned back and let the note fall to the floor.
“But, Daddy—”
“Don’t worry,
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