Held A New Adult Romance(26)

"And what am I?"

"Amber, that's not fair."

"Isn't it? You're still going to fire him, aren't you? For daring to have drinks with your precious daughter?"

He rubs a hand over his scalp, the way he used to rake his hands through his hair, back when he still had some. "I'm not going to fire him," he says. "But I don't know if you should see one another..."

"...I'm not a child." I say. And I hate myself for doing it, but I know how to make him do what I want. "Please," I say. "I promise, Daddy. I promise I don't think about him in that way. I swear. It's just...I'm lonely."

I know he'd rather die than admit that what I want has anything to do with lust. I simply don't feel that way; how could I? I'm still his baby girl.

I don't want to talk to Dr. Stahl. Not today, but I have no choice. She has that poised, pointed look she gets when she's waiting for me to tell her something significant.

"There are certain aspects of your relationship with Justin we haven't yet touched upon," she says, with such uncharacteristic prissiness that I know she's talking about sex.

I shake my head. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Amber, it's not uncommon for..."

I get up from the chair. She tenses. Now she knows I can walk out, she's wondering if I will. I know what she's going to say. She has statistics, case studies. She can tell me a million and one ways in which men like Justin learn to push a woman's buttons. And it's all bullshit. It has nothing to do with the way he made me feel.

"What?" I say. "What do you want to talk about? Is this because I had drinks with the security guard? Because I'm not fucking him, if that's what you want to know."

"Even if you were..."

"Which I'm not."

She sits with her hands folded, her head slightly inclined. I try to picture her outside of her role as doctor, as an ordinary woman who sticks her middle finger up when people turn without signaling, someone who cries over pet food commercials when she's premenstrual. I can't do it. She's smoother and flatter than the surface of the pool, but unlike the pool there's no way to ripple her.

I lean back against the end of my bed. "I don't know what you want me to say.”

Although I do. It’s obvious. I know her game, I know where this leads. Yet another way in which I am a victim. Well, I’m not going there.





Chapter Nine




Jaime



This never gets less weird. John Gillespie. I'm sitting in the same room as an actual Bond villain.

Probably not a good time to ask him what Daniel Craig is really like.

He doesn't look threatening. Just worried. And well he might be. I don't know what would have happened last night if he hadn't showed up when he did.

He hands me a bottle of water and takes a seat on the couch opposite. "So," he says. "You probably know the score with Amber, right?"

My throat is dry but I'm too nervous to unscrew the cap. "I don't know what you mean, Sir," I say.

"With the psychiatrists, the paps, the boyfriend. You've probably heard it all by now, right?"

I shake my head. "No."

His eyebrows arch. "No? What, you live under a rock or something?"

I try to twist the cap loose, but my hands are wet from the condensation on the bottle. "I know there was something," I say. "But I decided it was none of my business."

"Why?" His eyes are the coldest blue.

I shrug. "Because it's not. I don't want to look Amber up on the internet. I don't think of her in that way."

John Gillespie frowns. "Jimmy, you're a nice kid. If things were different...well...we wouldn't be having this conversation. But there's stuff you should know about my daughter. She's not well. She's not been well for a long time."

"I got that, yeah."

"Did she tell you about what happened with her ex?"

"No. She doesn't tell me much." What do I really know about her, when you get to the heart of it? I know her brand of cigarettes. I know she can't dance, or drink. I know she has a scar on the back of her neck, but I don't know how she got it. I don't know much at all. Maybe that's why it's easy, when I say it. "I'm not in love with her," I say. "Or anything like that. We just talk. About nothing much at all."

He sighs heavily, his elbows on his knees. "She needs friends," he says. "That's what she tells me."

The cap finally comes loose in my hand. I want to drink but the room is too quiet and still. "I can do that," I say, my mouth dry.

He looks up. "You sure?"

"Sure. Yes."

"Don't make me regret this, Jimmy."

"You won't. I promise."

"There is no way she's ready for anything more than friendship. Do you understand me? I'm not just saying that because she's my little girl, even though she is. She's been hurt so bad I don't know if she's ever gonna be right again." He rubs his big hands over his bare scalp. His shoulders are larger than life, but there's a film of water in his eyes.