“Why don’t you bring Nora along? I can make a reservation for three.”
Yup, keep twisting the knife. “Nora and I broke up, Dad.”
“When?”
“Last year, at the end of summer.”
He blows out a heavy breath into the phone. “Griffin, I’m sorry. I wish I had known, but you never talk to me.”
“Please don’t call me that,” I mumble.
“Why? It’s your name.”
No, it’s your name and I hate that we share it. Griffin Harvey is a pilot. Finn Harvey is a photographer. Griffin Harvey is a womanizer. Finn Harvey builds women up. I am nothing like my dad. I will never marry a woman, cheat on her for nearly two decades, impregnate two mistresses, and then drag my ex-wife through years of litigation in an attempt to starve her of any alimony. I will not ignore the fact that she’s waiting tables in twelve-hour shifts and can still barely pay the bills, while I’m sipping rum in Fiji and trying to fuck everything in a bikini.
“Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I have to prep the studio for a client that’ll be here soon.” Lies, lies, lies.
“How’s the business going?” Dad asks, clearly desperate to prolong our conversation.
“It’s…going,” I answer honestly. “Could be better.”
“You know if you need a loan—”
“I’m fine.”
“It doesn’t have to be a loan. If it helps, a gift—”
“Dad, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
He sighs heavily. “I’m proud of you, Finn. It’s not easy staying afloat as a small business owner. If you ever need anything, I’m here.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“I mean it, Champ. What good is my money if not to help my son?”
A knot twists in my stomach. Dad traveled a lot when I was growing up, but he made a point to keep his flight schedules strictly domestic when I was in little league. He couldn’t catch every game, but he made it to more than any of the other pilot dads.
He was a great dad.
I just didn’t realize what a shitty husband he was until I left for college and Mom finally felt free enough to leave his sorry ass. For ten years now, I’ve tried to separate the two versions of my dad. My mom tells me not to fight her battles. She’s given me her blessing to have a good relationship with Dad. He’s never treated me poorly.
But I just can’t ignore the kind of man he chose to be. He unapologetically stole the best years of my mom’s life. He tore our family apart.
“Dad, I have to go. I’ll see you on the nineteenth.”
“All right, Son. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Mhmm,” I say right before I hang up. It’s all I can manage without sounding like a dick. I didn’t want to end the phone call with, I’m not.
I pull on some sweatpants and a clean athletic shirt before heading to the kitchen. The smell of coffee fills the halls and the entryway of my ranch-style house.
“Poured you a cup,” Lennox says without looking around. She’s sporting quite the goth look today. Black jeans shorts, fishnet stockings, black tank top, and her hair is jet-black once again.
“Hey, you got rid of the purple?” I ask, pointing to her hair.
“Meh,” she says, shrugging, “I bore easily.”
I glower at her. “Is that why you’re here so much?” I grab my steaming cup of coffee off the counter and inhale. Lennox does make a great cup of coffee.
“You’re better company than my roommate,” she says, sipping from her own mug. “Do you want creamer? I bought some of the oat milk stuff you like.”
“Oh yeah?” Opening the fridge, I find it stocked with a few new items. Tonic waters, yogurt, fruit, my preferred brand of orange juice, and some deli meat for sandwiches. “Well, Lennox, you’ve redeemed yourself. I think I’ll keep you.” I pull the safety seal off the creamer and douse my coffee.
“Sorry about your dad,” she offers. “He called the first time, and I figured if you were around, you’d let it go to voicemail. But then he called again and again, and then something dawned on me.”
“What dawned on you?” I ask, leaning against my kitchen island.
“How else would you know if something happened to your sisters?”
Fair point. I wouldn’t. I don’t really keep in touch with my dad’s daughters.
“I know Griffin is a dick and all, but you always said your sisters were innocent in all this. You’d want to know if either of them was in trouble.”
It’s true. My half-sisters and I have a shared disdain for my dad. From what I understand, Molly and Alaina also keep him at arm’s length. We’re spread out across the country. I’m in Las Vegas, Molly lives in Baltimore, and Alaina attends college in Fort Lauderdale. We keep him busy with his annual apology tours; he treated all our mothers like shit. But we have nothing against each other. We just don’t have much in common. We’re connected by blood, but nothing else.
“He’s coming into town on the nineteenth of next month. Do you want to go to dinner with us?”
Lennox sticks her finger in her mouth and makes a gagging sound. It’s worth noting that Lennox is my mother’s sister’s daughter. They are the lead chairmen of the We Hate Griffin club, so I’m not surprised she doesn’t want to break bread with Dad.
“Fine. Abandon me then.”
Lennox takes a tepid sip from her cup. “Why don’t you just tell him to get lost? Cut ties if you don’t want him around, Finn. You’re justified.”
“He’s finally paying Mom her fair share of alimony. He even gifted her flights to Greece for her and her boyfriend. Everything is at peace. I don’t want to kick up the drama again.” I rotate my finger in the air. “Not to mention he cosigned the mortgage for this house. I owe the man my company for one dinner a year, at least.”
“If I were you, I’d kick him in the teeth after the way he—”
“Can we change the subject?” I ask. “This is far more Griffin and family drama than I want to deal with on a late Saturday morning.”
“Fine. What are you doing tonight? There’s a whiskey tasting at Rue 52 that my friend is hosting. It’s far tamer than the foam party. Want to come?”
“Nope, I have plans. Although if you plan on once again popping by uninvited tomorrow, please pick me up the Southwest rolls with the black beans. The eggrolls always taste better the next day for some reason.”
Lennox holds her mug to her lips and blinks at me. Her glib smile grows. “You have plans?”
“Yes.” I think. Maybe. I plan on heading over to Dex’s hot tub at eight. I’m not sure if Avery will be in the tub waiting for me or hiding under the bedroom covers upstairs. I don’t know what the fuck that was last night.
I’ve done the mirror affirmations thing for my clients a hundred times, but never like that. When a boudoir client is really insecure or nervous, I’ll place them in front of a large mirror and get them comfortable with looking at themselves, with smiling naturally. I’ve never undressed any of my clients. I am a consummate professional. Never once has that scenario been sexual…until last night.