“Out.” He demands flatly, and I stand to my feet, leaving in a frazzled huff. I decide to walk home because the day is still fairly warm, and a cool breeze has picked up. I cry for the better half of two blocks, trying not to look out of sorts, so no one tries to rob me. Tears continue to fall until I’m outside my apartment, and I know I have to pull it together, so Jack doesn’t ask me any questions. Scratch that. Jack always had questions. At least none of them would be centered around me explaining my visit with Luca.
I wipe my face before walking through the front door, but just before I’m about to open it, I get a call from a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?” The line is silent, and I hang up right away after resolving it to be a stupid telemarketer. I still get them even after putting my name on the national “do not call” list. I unlock the door and step inside. Kinzi runs up to me, and Jack trails behind her in the same manner.
“How was your walk?” He presses his lips into a sarcastic grin. I’m sure the FBI has tapped my phone, so I lie.
“Well, I went to Chinatown to get some things to cook tonight, and then I lost my phone! After about an hour, I decided to go into the jail at the end of the road, and it turned out someone had turned into the lost and found. Crazy, right?”
I walk to the kitchen and begin to clean up his mess of cereal bowls and pop-tart wrappers.
“Oh.” He steps over Kinzi, who growls at him, and sits on the barstool across from me.
“So, where are the groceries?” He looks around, and my face falls flat as I turn to throw a handful of junk into the trash.
“I never got it. It was too stressful, what happened with my phone, and I just wanted to go home after the whole ordeal.”
I begin wiping down the counters, and he doesn’t seem to react. I start to think maybe he’s on to me until he begins to whine.
“Well then, what’s for dinner?”
I flutter my eyelashes at him through furrowed brows.
“Like you didn’t eat my entire pantry already?” He looks around the kitchen.
“Well, pop-tarts and cereal were all you had. That shit’s carbs. Daddy needs some protein.”
I pretend to gag.
“Never. Ever. Call yourself Daddy in my presence again. Honestly, it might be best for you to avoid using it in general. Unless you’re a victim of teen pregnancy, no one should be calling you daddy.”
“I’ll have you know, I’m twenty-three years old.”
“Mhm.” I roll my eyes, and he pouts a little. He really is far too harmless for the business he’s involved in.
By the evening, we’re sitting on the couch watching Family Feud with Kinzi in between us, eating Chinese food from cardboard boxes. My phone is ringing from somewhere between the couch cushions, and I quickly fish for it before pulling it out with pieces of a poptart. I glare at Jack, but he’s too engrossed in the show to notice. When I look back at my phone, I see Vince calling, and I answer quickly, shuffling to the bathroom for privacy.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” Something in his voice sounds off, so I wait for him to continue.
“I had a little accident-“
“What? Where are you?” I begin to spiral, and he lets out a laugh.
“Relax. I’m home. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, so I thought I’d give you a call.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you… What happened?”
“I was riding my bike across the street, and some idiot didn’t see me. I rammed my chest into the handlebars. It wasn’t ideal….”
“No. I don't think any accident would be ideal.”
“Anyway, it was minor damage. A couple of stitches, and I’m good as new.”
“That's good to hear.”
“How was your day?” I looked at myself in the mirror, my hair is messy, and my skin’s flushed from crying so much this afternoon. He can’t know about my past. He might connect the dots and find out who I’m working for. I make up something stupid.