The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(202)

Joss interrupts me by grabbing my face in his hands. “You did perfect, Mel.” His voice is gravelly with emotion. “Absolutely perfect. You know me. You know what I need before I even know it myself. You’re right. I can’t miss my one chance. I may decide I hate him, but at least I will have seen him. I can’t spend the next twenty years wondering like I have the last twenty.”

I blink back the tears at the trust he places in me. The way he hands himself over to me with no questions asked. I’m beyond words, so I lean up and gently place my lips on his. We linger for a moment before we both pull away, hearts beating rapidly. Somehow I don’t think Joss’s dad’s appearance has distracted from our possible involvement the way I’d hoped. If anything, it seems to be convincing Joss that we belong together more than ever.

I’m afraid it may be convincing me as well.

“Let’s go meet him,” Joss says as he takes my hand in his and we walk out of the dressing room. In that moment, I feel like, if we’re together, Joss and I could face down anything, and I can’t help but wonder how that feeling could be wrong.





Chapter Twenty-Three

Joss



I’m walking down the hallway of an auditorium in Denver, the woman I can’t seem to shake holding my hand, and my father, who I haven’t seen in twenty-two years, waiting on the other side of an industrial metal door. It’s more than my mind can hold on to right now, so I just hold on to Mel. She’ll keep me grounded like I did her in that swimming pool. She’ll be my anchor through this.

We reach the end of the corridor, and I take a deep breath before I reach for the door and swing it open. I stride through, trying to convey a lot more confidence than I’m really feeling.

Jeff is standing near the door just as he should be. I look at him and he tips his head toward a set of folding chairs nearby. Joseph Jamison Senior hears us enter right as I look at him. He stands and takes a step toward me then stops. We’re both speechless for a moment until Mel steps in and takes charge. She walks to him, giving him her trademark glittering smile.

“Mr. Jamison, I’m so glad you came back,” she tells him as she places a hand on his arm, looking back at me to gauge how I’m doing. I’m stunned as I stare at an older version of my face in the mirror. The eyes, the nose, the shape of his mouth. Mel was right. It’s eerie. And he’s looking at me with a sort of longing. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that, so I keep my face completely neutral. Luckily, I’ve had a lot of practice at it dealing with paparazzi and fans.

He clears his throat before he answers, “Joseph, please.” Then he takes another couple of steps forward. “Hi, Joss,” he says awkwardly. “You ended up tall like your mom.”

And I am, taller than him by a couple of inches. It’s surreal. I remember him vaguely, and he seemed so big to me. Larger than life to a five-year-old child. Now I’m looking down on him and he’s just smaller than I remember.

“Um, hi,” I manage to choke out as I put my hand out. He takes it tentatively and we shake. His hand is sweating and I realize in that moment this is every bit as tense for him as it is for me.

“Should we go back to the dressing room?” Mel asks, looking at me.

“That might be a good idea,” I say, gesturing for the two of them to go ahead. I’m aware after we’ve gotten back inside that I didn’t even notice Jeff letting us through.

Mel starts chatting to my dad as we head up the hall. It gives me a minute to try to collect my thoughts and think about what I want to say to this man. Only one thing comes to mind in the chaos buzzing through my head though. Just one word—Why?

We finally reach the dressing room, and Mel ushers us in. Then she says, “Well, I’ll give you two some privacy.”

“No,” I answer hastily. I can’t be alone with this guy. He terrifies me. He has the power to send me to a place I haven’t been since I was about sixteen-years-old. A place where I’m young and weak and powerless over the fact that I don’t have a dad. A place where other people feel sorry for me, and I can see the pity in their faces.

I can’t go back there, and somehow I know that with Mel here I won’t.

“Stay, Mel,” I say, looking at her desperately.

“Sure,” she answers softly. “I’ll just sit over here. I’ve got some shots to look through.” She picks a chair as far away from us as possible and starts fiddling with her camera. I sit on one end of the sofa and gesture for my dad to take the other end.

We sit and look at each other for a few seconds. “So did you like the show?” I ask.

His face lights up. “Oh, it was great, Joss. Really great. I’ve got all the albums you know. All the Lush albums. I’ve always thought you boys were great.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, at another conversational dead end.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m showing up after all this time, huh?”

“It is kind of unexpected.”

He nods his head, and I see the weariness around his eyes. I sense he hasn’t had a light life. I guess I know where I get my darkness from as well.

“I heard about your mom.”

I swallow, still brought low by my memories of her last few months—the cancer, the treatments, the suffering. I can feel a certain kind of blind rage well up under the carefree façade I’m working to show him. I was twenty-three years old when she got sick. Barely making enough money to pay my own rent, much less help her with medical bills and living expenses when she couldn’t work anymore. She was sick for over two years before she finally gave up the fight. And where the hell was this guy? Showing up eighteen months after the fact is hardly helpful.

“I’m real sorry for your loss, son. Your mom was a good woman. Better than I ever deserved, and it’s pretty obvious she raised you right.”

“Is that why you came? To give me your condolences?” I’m trying not to let the pissed part of me take over the curious part.

“Yes, but more than that,” he’s quick to answer. “I know there’s nothing I can say about not being around for you, Joss. I’m the first one to admit I should have never had a kid. I’ll never be any kind of a father, but I wanted you to know how you can reach me if, I don’t know, if you ever need anything.”

“So, wait.” My voice sounds hard to my own ears. “You can’t be a father to me—not like that’s some big news flash—but you want to be what, like, my emergency contact or something?”

I shoot a look at Mel and see her watching me with concern. My head is throbbing. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this farce up, no matter how much I’ve always wished I could know my dad.

“I don’t know what I thought,” he answers softly and stands up. “I don’t want to upset you, Joss. I just wanted to tell you I’m here and say I’m sorry. For all of it. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I am. If I had to do it over again, I’d do it different. A lot different.”

I take a deep breath, trying to see past my own pain to assess what it is this guy wants, what he hopes for out of our little session here. I decide to try a different tack.

“So you’ve lived in Denver all these years?” I look down at my fingers and twist a ring I’m wearing. It helps my self-control if I don’t look at him.

He slowly sits back down, watching me warily. “Yeah. Just a few miles from your grandma’s old place.”

“Still working construction?”

“Yep. I’m a foreman now. Don’t run the big cranes anymore, but I have to keep the guys in line.”

I laugh softly. “Sounds pretty much like my job.”

He smiles and I see him relax a touch.

“So you married or anything?”

“Nah. After your mom, I decided I wasn’t cut out for that. If I couldn’t make it work with the love of my life, I wasn’t going to make it work with anyone.”

I look at Mel, whose mouth is hanging open the way mine would like to. “Love of your life?” I ask slowly.

He nods sadly. “Oh, son, it wasn’t because I didn’t love your mom. I loved her more than anything. I just couldn’t be what she needed me to be. I can hold down a job, but I’m a selfish bastard. I’m moody and unreliable and inconsiderate. Your mom deserved more than that.”

“Sounds to me like you didn’t try too hard.” My voice is bitter.

“You might be right. I guess I wanted to be alone or I wouldn’t have ended up like I have. But I don’t want that for you. I mean, I know you don’t have any more family, so I want to be there for you if you’ll let me. You don’t need to be alone. You don’t need to be like me.”

The fact that this man who hasn’t seen me since I was five years old has, in one small moment, nailed the single biggest fear I have in my life, the thing that has haunted me relentlessly for the last year and a half, hits me dead center with a pain that is sharp and sudden.

“How would you know anything about me or my life?” I spit out at him.

“I don’t, Joss. I just worried when I heard your mom was gone. It’s always been my worry, that you’d end up like me.”