Chapter 20
Ian
My thumb scrolled over the screen of my phone. I took a deliberate deep breath and blinked. After thirty minutes of going through my inbox, I had been reading too many messages. It seemed like hours had gone by and all of a sudden I felt like I was at work all over again
Kate had been with Claire for the past hour or so. Meanwhile, work didn’t quit. Text messages and emails had seemed to flood in, and I figured since I had some downtime I’d go over them.
Big mistake.
Now all that I could think about was work and how I’d just left without warning. I hadn’t given much of an explanation when I took off, either. Just because I was the “man in charge” didn’t mean that I could do that. The Old Man would have never done that. I could hear him in my head. A business is only as good as the man who runs it. If you aren’t responsible, son, and you’re in charge, how do you think your employees will behave?
Thankfully, I was lucky to have such a wonderful assistant. Janice would keep things running smoothly for the day. She had sat in for me and taken notes at the meetings. Really, really thorough notes at that. She’d already sent them over to me. It was the very first email I read. There was a huge run-through and briefing over every single topic that had been discussed.
That woman deserved a raise.
I smirked, wondering what my Vice President, Jerome, had thought about her sitting in. Especially considering I didn’t tell anyone where the hell I was going. I was sure he just loved that.
I always wondered why my dad put such a wiener in the VP slot. It wasn’t like Jerome was any better at his job than any other higher management drone. And my dad didn’t really take a liking to ass-kissers, so I knew that wasn’t the case either. I sighed. I guessed Jerome drew the lucky straw out of the rest of the assholes in line for the job.
I leaned to the side and glanced around the corner toward the emergency area on the far end. Kate must have still been in with Claire and the doctor. It felt like it had been forever.
Not that I was complaining. I was there to support her, not to monopolize her time. She needed to be there for her sister. I was just there for when she needed me. But still, I was starting to feel a little antsy. I hated sitting in one spot for long.
I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was a typical black clock with a white face, but it was a little worse for wear than a typical wall clock. It was duct taped around the edges, and the number three was missing. Hell, the worst part was that the time wasn’t even right. Not even by a long shot when I checked it against my phone’s display. A couple of minutes off, I could understand, or even five. It was off by twenty-three minutes.
Time moved however it wanted to in hospitals, it seemed.
When my dad was about to die, it’d felt like I was in the hospital for a year, just waiting for him to go— when in reality it had only been a few days.
Time seemed to either speed up, or slow down until it almost stopped in a hospital.
I sighed. It seemed like almost yesterday when I was sitting in a chair, very similar to the one I was sitting in now, waiting for my dad to die. As soon as that realization hit, I could feel myself getting antsy, touching my chair, tapping my feet, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt.
I never really liked sitting for long periods of time. It always made me feel sort of on edge, but because this was in a hospital, it was definitely worse. I leaned forward and glanced at a small table just a couple of seats from my chair. There was a large stack of magazines scattered over it, and I wondered if any of them were even from this year. I could tell, just by scanning the covers of a few of them, that most were old as sin, though.
Come on, when Scotty Pippen and Michael Jordan were on the cover of a Sports Illustrated together, especially rocking red Bull’s uniforms, you could definitely tell it had been a while since the magazine was printed.
I sighed again and pulled my phone out, suddenly losing interest in reading anything at all. It looked like it was either warp myself into straight up drone status and play a game on my phone, or die of boredom.
May as well play a game.
“Hey, you,” I whispered to a guy sitting near me. He looked young, maybe nineteen at the oldest. His hair was long, but it was held back by a slouchy beanie cap. He’d been staring at his phone’s screen for longer than Kate had been gone.
“Uh, yeah?” he asked, as soon as his gaze hit mine. His brow twisted, and his face scrunched up. I couldn’t tell if he was confused or if he was pissed off, but I didn’t want to harass him; I just needed to ask a question.
“What are some good phone games?” I asked, gesturing to his phone. I had my app store open, ready to buy anything and everything that could help pass the time.
But as soon as I asked the question, he looked even more confused.
“Relax, man — I’m a person, you’re a person.” I laughed. “I’m just asking you about phone games.”
He looked back down to his phone and then back at me. His mouth opened and closed as if he was at a loss for words. Did kids really not know how to communicate anymore?
“Is Angry Birds even still a thing?” I asked, glancing down at my phone and trying to ignore the kid’s weird behavior.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he mumbled. “I don’t really play many games on my phone, though.”
I looked over at his phone. I’d thought that was what he’d been doing all that time. But as soon as I looked at the phone, I saw words instead. It looked like a PDF to a book or something.
“Oh,” I said. “A book?”
“Yeah.”
“For school?”
“No, sir.” His voice was still quiet and timid. “I just like to read.”
He threw a faint smile my way and glanced back down.
“Well, hell, that's refreshing,” I said with a laugh. “But please don’t call me sir…I’m not much older than you.”
He slumped down further in his seat and smirked. “But if you really want to play a game, I’ve heard of a couple.” His eyes darted back up, and I could see a smile begin to form.
“By all means, download them,” I said, and I handed him my phone. I was usually a little wary giving strangers my phone, especially considering my phone was my lifeline. But this kid, even with his goofy awkwardness, seemed pretty okay.
He smiled and took my phone, and within just a few seconds, I had it back.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now let me get back to my book.”
His tone told me he was just kidding, but I let him get back to it anyway. Besides, I really did want to try out the games. I hit the home button on my phone and tapped one of the new icons.
Killing zombies as a soldier was the definition of a mindless pastime. It helped. But I couldn’t get my mind off Kate. She’d been gone for a while now.
I just hated that she had to deal with everything on her own. What kind of man would leave this kind of shit to his daughter? What kind of man wouldn’t get his ass in gear and rush to the hospital when his baby girl was hurt? Every second that passed with him on my mind made me angrier and angrier. My thumb started to scroll faster through the game, and I realized I wasn’t even playing it anymore.
I was just thinking about Kate’s dad — and how much of a complete tool he must have been.
I scowled and shoved my phone in my pocket before crossing my arms over my chest in a huff. I glanced around the room at all the parents and couldn’t for the fucking life of me believe that neither of Kate’s parents was there.
They both should have been ashamed of themselves.
My old man had been a lot of things — but he was still what a dad should have been. He had still made a fucking effort when he was alive. He was always there for me when I needed or wanted him to be. And a whole hell of a lot of times that I didn’t.
A lot of times he was just there to be a royal pain in the ass.
I was getting pissed off all over again just thinking about how Kate deserved more. And fuck, I didn’t even know Claire, but she deserved more, too.
Everyone deserved more.
Everyone deserved a parent that gave a damn.
A loud bang pulled me from my thoughts, and I jerked my head up to see what had made the noise. It had been the double doors down the hall, slamming back shut behind a blurry figure of a man.
As the figure grew closer, I noticed a familiar suit, cut in a familiar way. He was barreling down the hall like he was ready to punch someone. There was something about him that made me crane my neck just to watch him as he pounded closer and closer to my seat.
The suit was navy, expensive, and draped perfectly over the large and stocky body of the person wearing it. It was more than just tailored; it was made for him. His expensive monk strap shoes clicked against the white tile as he continued his journey down the long hallway.
He was growing larger and clearer with every step. His white-gray hair illuminated him like his head was a desk lamp. It glistened and shone brightly against the fluorescent lights as he continued to pound his way down the hallway. His eyes, deep and intense, were narrowed. They were like slits, determined and set on a target.
On what target, I couldn’t be sure, but he was definitely going somewhere.
A large brown overcoat lay slung over his forearm, and it whipped and fluttered as he walked. Then he was close enough I could see his face, and my initial guess had been correct.
Michael. Fucking. Murphy.
I groaned and leaned back and down in my chair. I could only hope and pray that he wouldn’t see me. I didn’t want to deal with him — not now. Had he searched me out? To talk yet again? This was a new, and very desperate, strategy. I was so beyond sick of that fucking lawsuit that I could vomit.
No, I decided. He couldn’t have hunted me down because no one at my company knew where I was. Short of putting some sort of tracking device on my phone, he wouldn’t have been able to find me.
So fuck, if today hadn’t been bad enough already, that asshole was here in the hospital? Of all fucking places.
But his steps weren’t aimed toward the waiting room. With relief, I watched him completely bypass the room I sat in and head straight to the check-in counter nearer to the emergency department. Even though I hated him, I felt bad that he was here. Nobody should have to come to the emergency room.
It was strange to think of Michael being an actual person, to think of him actually caring about anyone but himself.