Chasing Vivi(38)

It's late afternoon when I hear from him.

"Sorry, Viv, I was swamped today. I had work and some other things. But I  think you need to stay put. At least for another day or two. You have  help there."

"It's weird here. He's weird, Eric."

"What do you mean?" I explain what happened.

"Hmm. Maybe he had a lot on his mind."

"Then why didn't he just say ‘Vivi, I have a lot on my mind'?"

"You know how strange men get sometimes. Another day, two at the most.  I'd feel better with you having someone there during the day."         

     



 

Releasing the pent-up air in my lungs, I say, "All right." Maybe  Prescott just is overwhelmed with things and doesn't know how to handle  me.

Regina leaves around five and she's left dinner in the oven. I told her  not to cook, because Prescott still has food from his chef, but she  insisted.

"You have a good rest of the night. Dinner will be ready in an hour. All  you need to do is pull it out. It's not heavy, so you should be fine.  If Mr. Beckham's not home, that is."

I thank her and she leaves. Being injured isn't for sissies. This is so  boring I could punch a hole in the TV. Even though I'm still sore,  sitting here is driving me crazy. I'd rather be busy, doing something.  There has to be a dozen or more books on my Kindle, so that's what I  decide to do. About two chapters later, restlessness takes over. Why am I  so fidgety? Is it because I'm expecting him to walk through the door  any minute?

I give Vince a call to pass the time and he's so shocked at what  happened, he hardly carries on much of a conversation. After a few  minutes, he promises to call in a couple of days. He's studying for  exams and when he's through he wants to meet for lunch.

An hour passes and dinner is done, so I take it out of the oven with my  good arm. It's slightly tricky, but I manage. Another thirty minutes  pass, and no Prescott. I decide to text him. The dinner is only lukewarm  now.



Regina made dinner and it's getting cold. Are you coming home soon?



Finally, I get his response.



Tied up here. Don't wait on me.



First surprise and then disappointment cause my heart to shrink  incrementally. I berate myself for waiting at all and expecting him to  eat dinner with me. He does, after all, run a multibillion-dollar  company and I should expect for him to have duties that extend beyond  regular work hours.

Picking my sappy-assed self up, I fill a plate with the chicken dish  Regina made and try to find something else to watch on TV. The food is  delicious and I eat every bite. I clean up and get ready for bed.  Nothing on TV interests me, so I decide to read in bed. This lying  around crap is ridiculous.

The book I'm reading is a sexy one, which isn't exactly what I need  right now. All it makes me want to do is hunt down my vibrator, which is  impossible because it's at home.

I'm so done with this. Tomorrow I'm going home. When Regina arrives,  I'll have her help me move my stuff, and that'll be the end of this.

After punching my pillow a few hundred times, sleep eventually claims me  even if a sexy dark-haired god with eyes of gold haunts my dreams.





Chapter 25





Prescott





After arranging for Eric's interview, which will be this afternoon, I call to let him know.

"This afternoon!" he cries. "I'm headed to work!"

"What time does your shift end?"

"Seven," he says, panic gushing out of him.

Thrumming my fingers on the desk, I tell him to expect a call from me around one-thirty. He is to say he has a family emergency.

"I can't do that. It'll leave them shorthanded."

"I can push your interview back until five. Will that help?"

"Some. And call me at three. We'll be over the lunchtime crush. That'll  give them time to get one of the night staff to come in early."

"Fine."

"Oh, and how's Viv?"

"Fine. I have to go." There will be zero discussion between Eric and me  regarding that subject. I have to figure out how I'm going to explain  myself to her tonight. Why did I have to promise a conversation so soon?

Lynn orders in lunch for me and after I finish, I have a call from  Weston. We firm up our details for the trip on Wednesday. Then my phone  rings.

"Mr. Beckham, your grandfather has asked you to step down to his office when you get a minute."

"Thank you, Lynn." Her formality always makes me chuckle.

After logging off the computer, I head to Granddad's office. People  greet me as I pass, especially the women. The suggestive grins they  offer make me wonder about what Lynn said earlier. I used to imagine  what they wore beneath their skirts, but not anymore. The bruised-up  woman who's sleeping in my bed takes up most of my thoughts about  lingerie these days.

When I round the corner and open the door, I'm surprised to see Grand here.

"Prescott." She leans in and kisses my cheek as she says my name.

"Son, have a seat."

Granddad's expression is full of uncertainty. Eyes that are usually  bright and cheerful are now cloudy as the corners seem to tug downward.

Grand gives his hand a squeeze. "Go on, Samuel, best to get this over with."         

     



 

"What's going on?" I ask as my chest suddenly fills with lead.

"There's no use beating around the bush, so I'll get right to it. Your  grandmother and I received a letter from an old friend of your  mother's."

Now the weight in my chest becomes heavier and it's difficult to  breathe. Anytime my mother is brought up, the desire to cover my ears is  almost unbearable.

"I know this is a tough subject, but what we have to tell you is, well,  shocking to say the least." Granddad stops, takes his glasses off, and  pinches the bridge of his nose.

"What did the letter say?"

He begins with how Grand opened the mail this morning to find it and  called Granddad. They both read it several times. Their slow, gentle way  of building up to it makes me want to scream, because all I want to  know is what the goddamn letter says. I bite my tongue.

"Then she went on to talk about your mother's death."

"Stop. Can you please fast forward to the pertinent part or tell me  however this all pertains to me? I don't want to discuss Mom."

"Son, this will come as a complete shock to you, but I want to tell you  first that we have asked her to give us proof that she has it. We have  already contacted her."

"Proof about what?" I ask, my voice rising.

Granddad comes around. "Prescott, sit down."

"Just tell me."

"Not until you sit."

What the fuck is going on? My brain spins as my ass hits the chair.

"As difficult as this is for me to say, you have to know. The man you  know as your father isn't your biological father. At least that's what  this letter tells us."

"What?" Did he just say what I think he said? "Are you saying that Dad isn't my father?"

"Here." He hands the damn letter to me.

I practically tear it out of his hand in my eagerness to see what's in  it. The more I read, the more my hand trembles. When I'm finished, the  paper slides through my fingers.

"We're sorry, son. We don't know what else to say," Granddad says.

"Why didn't she just say something?" My heart bleeds for my mother. Or  does it bleed for me and all the years I haven't had her here with me?

"We can't answer that," Grand says. Her face seems to have aged a  hundred years in the last few minutes. "The last thing we want is  …   don't let this impact you, Prescott."

"Grand, how can it not? The man I've known all my life as my father, isn't. Does he know?"

"According to the letter, he does," Granddad says.

"I must've breezed over that part. So he let me believe the lie, too." I  pause. "Now the million-dollar question is: Who exactly is my daddy?"  Sarcasm bleeds from every pore when I ask the question.

Grand takes my hand. "We think this woman knows. Hopefully she'll provide us with more details when we meet."

"So, we're going to meet?" I ask.

"Your grandfather and I thought it best. You never know with these  things whether people are after something. You're not exactly low  profile, sweetheart."

I bury my hands in my hair. Why now, of all times? I don't need any more confusion added to my already fucked-up head.

"When will this meeting occur?"

"We are waiting for her to get back to us. She left us all her  information and hasn't asked for a thing in return," Granddad says.

In other words, they believe she's legit. While we sit here, Granddad's phone rings. His admin tells him she's on the line.

How convenient.

"Best to get on with this." He takes her call, but I find my thoughts  going straight to Vivi and wondering how she'd handle this. Granddad  hangs up and says, "I hope that was okay."

"I'm sorry, I zoned out."

He smiles kindly. "We're meeting here at five-fifteen. She works in the city, so it was convenient for her."