Chapter 10
Harlow
My phone vibrating against the hardwood floor pulled me from my slumber. I groaned and stretched; my eyes were caked shut with sleep. I sniffled as I cleared my throat, my arm reaching around for the phone rattling on the floor. I could feel the brisk morning sun tapering through the blinds of my apartment, fluttering against my body. I picked the phone up in my hand as my heart thundered in my ears. Maybe it was him calling. Fox. To see how I was doing or to see what I was up to this evening.
But instead, it was my father.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, you owe me ten bucks,” I heard my father say.
“What?” I asked.
“Your mother and I had a running bet going on. She thought you would be up already, but I told her you had your own space and would create your own schedule. Clearly, I was right.”
“I can hear your grin,” I said.
“Good, because it’s there. How was your first night at the apartment?”
Lonely. Depressing. Late. Empty.
“It was what it was. I’m still a bit achy from yesterday,” I said.
“Have you started unpacking many of your things?” my father asked.
“That’s for after I get up and get coffee.”
“You got your coffee maker hooked up yet?”
“Nope. I’ll have to wake up long enough to drive and get something from somewhere.”
“You want me to bring it to you?” he asked.
“You’re not secretly outside already holding it, are you? Because I love you, but I know you didn’t call to check up on this apartment.”
“No, I’m not standing outside your apartment with coffee. Your mother stopped me at the door this morning. So sue me if I want to check up on my daughter.”
“I’m fine, Dad. But you do have to let go a bit. I literally saw you fourteen hours ago,” I said.
“I’m just worried. I’m your father. I’m allowed to be worried.”
“You’re just not allowed to bug me with your worry,” I said.
“Walk me through your day. You know, like we always do over coffee.”
“There’s no coffee,” I said.
“Just humor me, Harlow. Okay?”
“Fine,” I said as I sat up.
I drew in a deep breath, trying to wake myself up and keep my tears at bay. I couldn’t tell my father how I was actually doing. Because then that meant giving him some sort of synopsis of what happened last night.
And that shit was flying. Mostly because I was a terrible liar and he would pull it out of me like he always did when I was younger.
“I’ve got the long weekend to unpack, so that’s what I’m gonna do with it. I’m gonna get off this couch-”
“You slept on the couch? Why did you sleep on the couch?”
“Dad. I slept on the couch because that’s what I felt like doing,” I said. “Television, wine, food, and the couch. That okay with you?”
“Harlow, are you sure you’re okay? Is someone there with you? Look, I’ve got this big case coming up. You know the safe word. All you have to do is-”
“Dad, I love you, but you really have to stop,” I said.
“Stop what?” he asked.
“Stop with all of this control and protective… stuff you do. I get it. Your job is rough. You deal with some rough figures. But you defend their innocence because you know they’re innocent. Right? You’re not just… defending assholes because you can. Right?”
There was a silence that descended on the phone call that made me uncomfortable. I was right. Right? I had to be right. My father was an angel. A fallen angel from heaven that helped those from alternative walks of life get the due process and justice they deserved.
“Of course,” my father said. “But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about you. If a case falls through and something goes wrong, these people also have the past to do some… interesting things.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Look, it doesn’t matter. Yes, sweetheart. I defend men and women who would usually be pinned for crimes like this. But that’s what happens. They’re pinned for them. That doesn’t mean they are innocent of other things; it just means they’re innocent of what they’re being taken to court for.”
I sighed as I rested my body into the back of the couch.
“Either way, this control has to stop. Nothing is going to happen to me, okay? There’s plenty of security in this apartment and in this complex. Plus, you trained me right. I carry my Taser still, and I do know how to shoot a gun. Self-defense. Close quarters fighting. All of it. Trust that I retained it and know how to use it,” I said.
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I know, this is you branching out and finding your own life. And I have to respect that. But I’m your father, and I’m always going to worry about you.”
“Then try to do it a little less in my ear, all right? Now, do you want to hear about my day without interrupting me this time?”
“I’d love to hear about it,” he said.
“I’m gonna get off this couch, get dressed, then go get some coffee. After the coffee, I’m gonna come back here and unpack my room. Make up my bed. Hang clothes. That sort of thing. Then, it’s lunch and then grocery shopping time. It’s never good to shop on an empty stomach, so I’ll probably snag something in town before I go.”
“Sounds like a plan. Got anything else?” he asked.
“The bathroom’s pretty much put together. I can put things away as I venture in there to clean myself up over the weekend. Outside of that, it’s just decorating.”
“What about the other two rooms in the apartment? Any idea what you might do with them?”
“I think one’s gonna be an office eventually, but for now I can do my work on the couch with the coffee table. And I’ve always wanted a library of unread books. So I think I’ll order some bookshelves and get my collection going.”
“Unread books?” he asked. “Why unread?”
“It’s nice to have a library full of books I’ve already read, but having shelves full of books I haven’t gives me something to look forward to. That can be a room I make solely for me. You know, mood lighting and some running water feature or something like that.”
“Like your mother’s yoga room.”
“Yep. And by the way? You could use that room, too. For all this stress and worry about your job,” I said.
“Now you’re beginning to sound like your mother.”
“Apple doesn’t fall far.”
“Unless that tree is on a hill. And you just keep rolling down it.”
“Dad. I’m gonna be fine. You have to trust me,” I said.
“I do. I just don’t trust anyone else.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me,” I said with a grin.
“I can hear your grin.”
“Good, because it’s there,” I said with a giggle.
“You know if you need anything-”
“You’re only a phone call away. I know, Daddy. I know. And don’t go and buy me office furniture or crap like that. I want to start buying some of these things on my own.”
“‘Crap,’” he said. “Such strong language coming from my little girl. Is the world corrupting you already?” he asked.
“You’re a mess,” I said with a giggle.
“It’s got you laughing, and that’s all that matters. How do you feel about me sending you some books?”
“I think I’d be okay with you sending some books. A few books. Like… four or five books.”
“Not six or seven?” he asked.
“Stop being a smart ass.”
“Oh, really strong language. Yep. The world already has its claws on my little girl. You’re never gonna be the same. I knew it.”
“A few books are fine, Daddy,” I said.
“Any particular genre you’re looking for?”
“Nothing overly educational. I’m done with educational material for a while.”
“School really get you down, huh?”
“Let’s just say I’m glad I’ve graduated,” I said.
“How do some good biographies sound?” he asked.
“You’re going to send me Ronald Reagan’s biography, aren’t you?” I asked.
“It’s a good biography. Your mother is also mouthing me to get you something by James Patterson. So expect some grisly murder book or whatever in there, too.”
“Leave it to Mom to enjoy that kind of stuff on a regular basis.”
“At least she’s not suggesting I send you any romance.”
“Nope. I’m buying that on my own,” I said.
“What?”
“What? Huh? Did you say something? I didn’t say anything,” I said.
“You are not buying any of those romance novels. They are too graphic.”
“But James Patterson books aren’t?” I asked.
“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Because that’s what daughters do to their fathers,” I said. “You raise them, and then we kill you before you can reach sixty. It’s how this cycle works.”
“You mean I’m actually gonna see sixty before you kill me? What unique type of torture is this? They could use this at Guantanamo, you know.”
“You’re such a drama queen,” I said.
“You got it from somewhere, and it certainly wasn’t your mother.”
I smiled as I closed my eyes, allowing my father’s laughter to echo off the corners of my mind. Even though I hated his overprotective nature, I loved our conversations. I could never be this candid with my mother. We just never had that kind of relationship. If I needed advice on my career, I went to her. If I needed advice on decorating or an outfit, I went to her. But with anything else-- including boys-- I went to my father. He was always easy to talk to, and he always heard my side of the story. Even if he didn’t agree with me and even if it rubbed him the wrong way, he always made sure my voice was heard.
He taught me about the validity of emotions. How my voice was just as important as any other. He taught me that life would be cruel but that it didn’t have to make me callused. He taught me that every person on this planet had validity to their lives, no matter what path they chose to run down. It was one of the premises he had built his entire career on, and I admired him for it.
“Thanks for calling, Daddy,” I said.
“Anytime, princess. Well, I’ll let you get on with your day. I’ve taken up enough of your time. And I promise I won’t call tonight,” he said.
“Wow. Really? Thanks, Dad,” I said sarcastically.
“Now you’re beginning to sound like me again. Have a good day, princess. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad. Bye.”
I hung up the phone and tossed it onto the couch. I knew I couldn’t tell my father about Fox now. Not with how worried he was becoming over some stupid case. The moment he laid eyes on him or heard me describe him in any way, it would be game over. He’d go on some long diatribe about how these were the kinds of men I needed to stay away from and blah, blah, blah.
Sometimes I resented my father’s work. If only because it halted the kind of life, I could have underneath his gaze.
Plus, none of the worries mattered anyway. Just because the man had my number didn’t mean he was going to call. I was probably panicking over nothing. If Fox did call, this would be the first thing I’d ever hid from my father. We always had an open relationship as far back as I could remember. I told him everything, and as I got older, he began to confide in me as well. Things between him and Mom and stresses at work. It was a mutually beneficial relationship based on trust.
This would be the first time I’d ever considered deceiving my father.
But it probably didn’t matter. A man like Fox was wild and free. He probably didn’t live by anyone else’s rules but his own. One of those men who had a handful of friends he put above everyone else. I was probably just some convenient lay for him last night before that phone call ruined everything.
Yeah. This worry was for nothing. A man like Fox could have any woman he wanted.
Which meant he didn’t have to settle for a woman who didn’t know what the fuck she was doing.
But in the back of my mind, I really hoped he did. As I got up from the couch and made my way to my bathroom, I hoped he called me. I hoped he took a chance on the lonely little girl who was just now experiencing the world around her. I hoped he called so I could have one last chance to feel my lips against his. To feel my hands against his skin.
To straddle my legs over his lap.
As I got into the warm shower, allowing the water to drip down my body, I hoped with all my soul he would call.
Even if I had to lie to my father about it.