Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I latch onto this unexpected shift in him, not sure what’s created it, but thankful for it. “There’s a fancy rehab I found. It’s like going to the Ritz. I can get you set-up to go. Maybe even next week. You can go straight there.”
He shocks me and starts crying. “Will that make you love me again?”
“Oh my God, Dad. I love you. I will always love you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve sucked you dry. I know I have. I just can’t seem to stop and I don’t even understand why.”
My heart is breaking with the torment in him. “That’s the thing about addiction. No one ever understands why. I’ll call. If you’ll go. I’ll call and get you in Monday.”
He’s silent for a few long seconds that stretch to a full minute, in which I hold my breath until finally he says. Yes, call.”
My heart leaps with joy. “Okay. Give me a few and I’ll make it happen.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, baby girl.”
We disconnect and hope is bursting inside me, hope I have not felt ever with my father. Something happened. Something shifted in him and I need to exploit the moment, for his recovery. Thirty minutes later, everything is arranged, and I call him back and set it all up. He’s presently in Breckenridge, Colorado so we decide he’ll drive to Denver Monday morning and catch a flight I make for him while we’re on the phone. The chosen flight times should have him checking into the facility by five that night.
“Are you going to call Mom? I ask. “She could even go with you. They have family services.”
“No. No, I need to do this alone.” His voice is cold and hard. He really seems to be almost done with her and I wonder if she’s been talking to him as she did us last night. “Maybe I deserve what she’s done to me,” he adds, “or maybe I don’t. Maybe this therapy can help me figure that out.”
“I hope so, Dad,” I say, and my heart is breaking for him.
Whatever is going on with him right now, when we disconnect, I’m relieved he’s seeking help.
I try my mother again both by phone and text and she, of course, doesn’t reply. I’m bothered by her claim of a fight with my father that doesn’t match his story at all. I believe my father, not her, and I don’t understand the games she’s playing.
I’m about to call Damion when my cellphone rings with Adam’s number. “I’m almost ready,” I answer.
“Damion’s father just walked into the building. Your door is locked, right?”
My heart stutters and then races. What the heck is going on? “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“I’m on my way up. Do not answer the door.”
“No problem there,” I say. “In no version of this life am I welcoming a moment alone with that man.”
We disconnect and I gather some of my work, suddenly eager to get out of here. I’m loaded up and ready when the door opens and I grab my bag, and head Adam’s direction. I make it almost to my door when Damion’s father, as intimidating in casual slacks and a sweater, as he is in a suit, steps in front of me. And the only way his presence is possible, is if my mother gave him the door code. “What are you doing here?”
“Let’s be clear, little girl,” he says tightly, snidely, “you’re pushing me. And that’s not a good place for you to be right now. You’re a distraction and moral compass my son does not need. Break up with him and I’ll break up with your mother. We’ll go our separate ways and call it done.”
I’m trembling inside, but my chin lifts in defiance. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll make you hurt in ways you didn’t know you could hurt.”
“Alana!”
At the sound of Adam’s voice I realize he’s inside the office and I never gave him the code, but he either watched me enter it, or Walker hacked the code. Either way, I’m damn glad he’s here. West Senior smirks. “He was a little slow, don’t you think?” He starts to turn but pauses to say, “Congratulations on your show’s renewal.” He winks and exits the room.
Adam appears almost immediately. “Are you okay?”
I sink into a visitor’s chairs and breathe out. “No,” I say. “I’m not okay.”
And how can I be? I think. Damion’s father just told me to leave him or else.
Chapter forty-nine
Five minutes after, I’m still sitting in the chair I’d collapsed in upon West Senior’s departure, but defeat has flattened me, and I’ve sunk lower into the cushion, that is, until the anger kicks in. My mother knew he was coming. She gave him the code. I dial her phone and leave a message. “We clearly can’t work together anymore, and I don’t know what that means for the show, but we need to talk about it.”