Ethan pushes an envelope across the table. “Here you go,” he says. “Start from the top.”
I open it, removing the contents. On top of the pile, there are a few pictures of my dad. Recent ones that I assume Ethan had someone on his team take. He looks just like he did last Friday when I ran into him outside Murphy’s building.
Next, I see a picture of him in a copy of a newspaper article that looks very old. I check the date. It’s almost as old as I am. The article is about him being arrested. He had stolen a car. And according to the article, it wasn’t the first time. They got him for multiple counts of grand larceny.
I knew it.
Another old picture is his prison photo. He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit and holding a number in front of him.
That’s my father. Prisoner #004583757 in the Georgia State Penitentiary. There’s a picture for the family album.
I shake my head. “Shit, Ethan.”
I stare at the picture. Georgia. No wonder I didn’t find anything on him. All my on-line searches were centered around Baltimore, where Lexi and I grew up.
“Keep looking,” he says.
Next, I find a diploma issued from a community college associated with the prison. He earned an associate’s degree in social work while he was doing time.
Beneath that is an article from an Atlanta newspaper dated fifteen years ago. It shows a picture of my father surrounded by what looks to be an unruly bunch. When I read the article, it talks about how Shane Kessler, social worker and former inmate, now spends his time helping other recently-released inmates stay off drugs and find meaningful employment.
The next paper I come across is a bachelor’s degree he earned from Georgia Southern University and the next, a doctorate in social work from the University of Georgia.
What the hell? I look up at Ethan. “My dad’s a fucking doctor?”
“Of social work. Yes,” he says with a smile. “I don’t think he’s after your money, Caden. Not that social workers make a lot of money, but he runs his own outreach program in Atlanta. Gets government funding and everything. Good program. I’ve donated to similar ones in the past. He spends his days rehabilitating criminals. I’m pretty sure that means he’s not trying to scam you.”
“Wait,” I say, leafing through the papers. “You’re telling me my deadbeat dad, the drug-addict scumbag who took off and left Lex and me, this guy is now some sort of scholar who runs his own business?”
I must look damn surprised because Ethan laughs at me. “And wins awards for it,” he says, pointing to another article showing pictures of my dad accepting accolades from the mayor of Atlanta.
“Why the hell did he wait so long to look for us?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he’s moving here. Maybe he just wants to know his kids again.”
“It’s too late. I don’t want to know him. Too much water under the bridge.”
“Don’t say that, Caden. Charlie thought the same thing about her dad when we first got together. Turned out it was a huge misunderstanding. They have a great relationship now.”
“You think my dad walking out on his wife and leaving his six-month-old son and three-year-old daughter was a misunderstanding?” I bite at him.
“Everyone has shit in their past. He was clearly an addict. Addiction does terrible things to good people. He’s obviously turned his life around. Maybe you should hear him out.”
I stuff the contents back into the folder. “Thanks, Ethan. I’ll think about it.”
“Glad to help.” He looks at his watch. “I’m heading out for the day. Want to grab a beer?”
“Can’t. I’m heading over to a friend’s house for a double date.”
“Look me up next week then,” he says, walking me out.
“Sure thing.”
~ ~ ~
Kate and I arrive at Murphy’s place fifteen minutes earlier than I told Brady to show up. I didn’t want him getting here before me and hitting on her. Even though I was quite clear about this being strictly platonic, I don’t doubt he’d try to see if he could push the boundaries. I mean, it’s Murphy. She’s gorgeous.
Murphy opens the door and incredible smells assault us from inside. I’ve never had chicken piccata before, and I wasn’t about to tell her I didn’t know what the hell it was. But whatever it is, it smells heavenly.
“Kate, this is my friend, Murphy.”
Murphy smiles at Kate, offering her hand. “Hi, Kate. Come on in.” She looks beyond us into the hallway. “Brady’s not with you?”
I’m not sure if she looks disappointed or relieved.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” I tell her. “We came separately.”
She shrugs. “Oh, okay.”
“Where should I put these?” I show her the two bottles of wine I brought.
She takes one from me, examining the label before she scolds me with her eyes. Yes, I spent a lot on the wine. It was the least I could do.
“Thanks,” she says, more for Kate’s benefit than mine. “You can put them on the kitchen counter. Go ahead and open one if you want.”
“Do we need to pass the bottle, or does Trick own wine glasses?” I ask.
Murphy’s laugh is a soft melodic giggle that resonates somewhere deep inside me. She has a great laugh.
“We’ve got glasses,” she says. “They might not all match, but we have plenty of them.”
“It smells great in here,” Kate says, taking a deep whiff of the aromas. “Can I help you with anything, Murphy?”
“No, but thanks for asking. Dinner is being kept warm in the oven and I’ve just finished with the canapés.”
“Cana-whats?” Kate asks.
“Canapés,” Murphy says. “They’re appetizers. Finger foods to tide us over until dinner.”
“Oh. Sounds great,” Kate says.
“Go ahead and have a seat,” Murphy tells her. “I’ll go get them and Caden can open the wine.”
I follow Murphy into the kitchen. “Before I forget, I hope you’re free tomorrow, because a bunch of us are going to Mason’s game.”
“A bunch?”
“Lexi and Kyle, Chad and Mallory, and Piper will be there, obviously.”
She thinks about it and nods. “Yeah. Sounds fun.” She touches the scar under her eye. “And not as dangerous as baseball.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about giving you another lesson,” I say. “I’m going to make you a baseball lover yet.”
She laughs, stretching her head around the corner to peek at my date in the living room. “Kate seems nice,” she whispers to me.
“I guess,” I say.
“Where did you meet her?”
“She’s my batting coach’s niece.”
“That’s nice. Did he set you two up?”
I shrug. “She’s been out with a few of my teammates before.”
Murphy pins me to the wall with her stare. “Caden,” she says in a stern whisper. “If she’s just going through your team trying to get any baseball player, you should run far and fast.”
I put a hand on her arm. “It’s not like that, Murph. She’s not a Tony. In fact, the other guys didn’t take her out a second time because she wouldn’t sleep with them. I think she’s more like the girl next door than the girl who wants to trap a ball player.”
She blows out a relieved sigh. “Good. Uh, she didn’t go out with Brady, did she? Because that would be more than a little awkward.”
“No, she didn’t go out with Brady.”
There’s a knock on the door.
I laugh. “Speak of the devil.”
“Can you get it?” she asks, picking up a tray of little bread things. “I’ll bring these.”
I introduce Kate and Murphy to Brady.
“It’s a real pleasure,” Brady says, holding Murphy’s hand far too long. I don’t miss how he appraises her like a piece of meat.
I call him over to help me with the wine glasses. “Dude, I told you, do not try and hook up with her. Don’t even try to kiss her.”
He looks around at nobody and then back at me. “What the hell did I do?”
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “You were eye-fucking her just now.”
He laughs. “Kessler, I eye-fuck everyone. Don’t you know that by now?”
I stare him down. “Don’t do it to her.”
He backs up and studies me. “Maybe we should swap dates then.”
“Don’t be stupid, Taylor.”
“Just sayin’,” he says. “You seem way more into her than the one you’re with. Mind if I eye-fuck your date then? She’s hot too. What did you say her name was again? I was too busy picturing Murphy squirming under me.”
If I didn’t know he was kidding—well, half kidding—I’d run his ass right out of Murphy’s apartment. “Just be cool, Brady.”
“I’m always cool, Kessler.”
I shove two glasses of wine into his hands thinking this could be a very long night.