Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
This is just fucking insane. How dare this man, however powerful he is, come in here and basically offer me a job as a prostitute? Dad being in the news so much has officially brought out all the crazies.
“Get out!” I shout.
Mr. Owens doesn’t seem fazed by how upset I am. He just steps back from the desk and taps his wristwatch. “Tick tock, Ms. Van Bauer. Only forty-five minutes before security will come and physically escort you from the building. Better get packing.”
With that, he turns and heads for the door. But not before tossing over his shoulder, “I look forward to your call.”
I walk in the door to my apartment at a little before two in the afternoon. I couldn’t find a box, so I had to stuff my large purse with all my belongings. It’s bulging so much I have to hold it in front of me like a papoose to keep everything in.
Like a baby.
I shudder even at the thought.
I hate babies. I mean, that sounds bad, but I never want to be a mother. Lord knows my own mom was a bad enough example to put me off the idea forever.
God, that guy propositioning me like that was the most insane thing I’ve ever experienced. And that’s saying something, considering I just learned two weeks ago that Dad tried to pull off the biggest Ponzi scheme since Madoff.
“Mel?” calls my dad’s voice in a panic. “Melanie, is that you?” Dad rounds the corner of my foyer and his face crumples in relief. “Thank God. Why haven’t you been answering your cell?” He’s wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt stained with last night’s spaghetti sauce. He looks like a shadow of his former self.
I stare at him confused. “My battery probably died. What’s going on, Dad?” I drop my purse with a loud thump.
He rushes forward and grabs me in a crushing hug. “I tried your office line too, and no one answered. You don’t know how worried I’ve been.”
He squeezes me even tighter. Okaaaaaaaay. Dad and I are close but we aren’t exactly the touchy-feely type. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me.
“I got fired.” No point in beating around the bush. Unlike him, I can’t keep up a perfect sheen that everything’s a-okay when in reality it’s going down the shitter.
He takes a step back. “What? Why? You’re the best damn ad account manager they’ve seen in years.”
I just stare at him. I’ve never heard such high praise from him.
Then I heave out a sigh. “Daddy, I—” How do I tell the father I’ve always tried so hard to impress that I got fired from my dream job because of him? Because of the Van Bauer name?
He waves a hand but then the same hand is quickly raking through his hair. “None of that matters right now. We’ve got bigger problems. Everything’s just—”
He’s scaring me. All of this came as an insane shock when it blew up two weeks ago—my dad, the man I’d looked up to forever, defrauding all those people, lying to me, to everyone, for years.
He starts pacing back and forth in the entryway and finally heads into the living room. I follow him. All the blinds are drawn and the TV is muted, flashing some cable news show. Used plates and junk food packages litter the coffee table.
Seeing the mess only heightens the anxiety churning in my stomach. None of this is like my dad. Usually he’s all about organization and he’s a fitness nut. He works out more than me and he’s forty-nine.
“Baby,” he starts again, “the DA wants me to make a deal. You see, I got into business with some very bad men and—” He bites his lip and presses a hand to his temple like he can’t bear to tell me the rest.
Okay, this is beyond scaring me. I’ve never seen him like this. He is freaking me out. I go over to him and grab his forearms to stop his pacing. “Dad. What men? What the hell is going on?”
It’s then that I see just how bloodshot his eyes are. His breath doesn’t smell like alcohol, but it’s like he hasn’t slept in days. I’ve heard him up at night but I’ve just tried not to think about it. My unspoken mantra has been: go to work and avoid, avoid, avoid.
The government seized all his assets, including the Upper East Side apartment where he lived. He’s been staying with me ever since he got out on bail last weekend. And he’s been… different. Not the confident man I grew up with.
But I’ve never seen him look so freaked out. So abjectly… terrified.
“We have to get whatever money’s left together.” His eyes shift back and forth wildly. “I have to get out of the country. I’ll make a run for Mexico. Maybe find someone who can get me to South America.”