20 - Changes of Attitude
My heart raced like a seagull diving for a bag of chips. Like so many other moments in my life, my dad had the worst timing, if it really was my dad. I had been ready to tell Jeffrey thanks for the waffles but he can go screw himself when everything changed.
"How do you know it's him?" I asked.
"He fits the description given by our source. Tall, receding blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, overgrown mustache, often seen wearing a blue and white windbreaker."
My gut protested. I didn't want to believe it was true, especially the part about the long hair and overgrown mustache. Dad never let his hair get long. Maybe he'd let it grow out to disguise his face. "Can you see his eyes? Are they blue, like mine?"
"He's wearing sunglasses. Looks like he called in an order. He's standing at the register while the waitress bags it up."
"Can I look yet?"
"No. He's glancing around." Jeffrey chuckled lightly. "He's looking at me. I'm trying to make it seem like we're having a pleasant conversation."
I wasn't in the mood to laugh, so I didn't join him. My head felt like it might explode. Would my dad recognize the back of my head? I'd gotten my hair cut a couple of months ago. I hadn't worn it this short since high school. "How am I going to identify him if I can't look at him?"
"It's fine. We have someone in the parking lot who's got eyes on him. They'll follow him discretely and let us know where he ends up. Hopefully we can confront him without any witnesses."
"The detective is here?"
"Of course. Okay, June. He's putting cream in his coffee. You can look now."
The blood pumped loudly in my ears as my nerves ramped up. I rallied my courage and turned toward the register. The guy in the windbreaker hunched over the counter stirring his coffee. He looked at ease, yet aware of his surroundings. It was the stance of someone who never completely let their guard down. It was Dad.
"Fuck." I whispered my curse as I faced Jeffrey again.
"I take it we found your dad?"
"Yes. But I don't want to talk to him. I'm too freaked out."
"That's okay. You've identified him. That's all we need." He slid his phone under the table. "I'm texting our contact now. We can enjoy the rest of our breakfast and wait to hear back when the deed is done. Piece of cake."
"Easy for you to say. You didn't just identify your dad who you thought was imprisoned or dead."
His overly tanned forehead creased. "I'm sorry. That was a dumb thing to say. I just wanted to reassure you that you don't have to worry anymore. And you know he's not either of those things, so that's good, right?"
"Yeah." I looked down at my half-eaten plate of waffles, wondering what the hell I was doing here. "I shouldn't have come. I'm putting my dad in danger. He seems comfortable here, and I'm fucking that up."
"How do you know he's comfortable here? You only looked at him for a second."
"I know my dad, okay?" I glanced out the diner window, looking for the detective. Were they sitting in a car?
"What do you want to do, June? I can tell our contact to stand down."
I turned to stare at him. "I thought this was something you wanted? You and the Franklin's could make a lot of money if my dad signs away his rights to the bar."
"It's not my bar, nor my decision. This is your life. Your family." He pursed his lips. "I figure you've made up your mind about me. You think I'm an asshole who only cares about making a buck. That's most people's opinion because people tend to use stereotypes to help them navigate unfamiliar terrain. But I don't make deals with clients who are not happy with the terms. If they're questioning a contract or feeling apprehensive, I'm not going to push them just to make a sale."
Hmm. This was an interesting turn of events. Although I figured there was a darker side to Jeffrey—I'd seen how he treated Cabe, I appreciated his honesty. "Nice speech. How about if your contact follows my dad discretely and makes a note of his location without approaching him. That way, we'll have an address. And if I decide to move forward with this plan, we'll know where to find him."
"It's very possible he'll have moved on by the time you're ready to confront him. Most people in his situation don't stay in once place too long."
"I understand, and I'm willing to take that risk."
"Okay. I'm texting that to our contact now."
"Is my dad still here?"
"He's just leaving."
I heard the door jingle and turned in time to see him and his blue and white windbreaker exit the diner. He walked across the parking lot, but rather than climb into a car, he kept going until I could no longer see him. I watched through the window in case he appeared again. Maybe his car was parked around the corner. After a minute, I gave up, and I found Jeffrey scrutinizing me when I turned around.
"Are you okay?"
"That was really weird. But I'll be fine."
He nodded but didn't seem convinced as he watched me pick at my waffles. I took a small bite, mostly to appease him, but my appetite had left.
"Have you ever been to Crystal River?" he asked.
"I've been through it. We used to go to Weeki Wachee Springs when I was a kid."
"Same here. But it's been years. Do you want to go? Maybe it'll take your mind off the situation with your dad."
"And maybe it will stir up old memories of him."
"Okay. We could head inland and do the zipline over Ocala National Park. It's pretty amazing."
"Or we could finish our breakfast and call it a day."
He looked at my waffles. "We might be here a while."
I folded my napkin over my plate. "I don't know if I'm up for an adventure."
"You won't know until you get there." He smiled and it actually came across sincere. "How about something indoors? I've got a friend who plays three nights a week at a comedy club in Ocala. He's hilarious, and he always includes me whenever I show up."
"Don't tell me you dabble in the comedic arts." I could not imagine him on stage doing stand-up. A Chippendale dancer I could picture.
"Everyone needs a straight guy." He shrugged as he finished off his orange juice. Was there more to this filthy rich, muscle-bound businessman than I'd pegged him for?
"What the hell. Let's take this show to Ocala."
~ ~ ~
I followed Jeffrey's sporty Acura, which he claimed was a lease. He liked to switch out cars three times a year to test drive different makes and models—the privileges of the one percent. Ocala was only an hour drive, and I thought about calling Cabe on the way. I wanted to let him know what had happened with my dad.
But my stomach cramped every time I thought about our relationship, which had pretty much gone down the shitter. I wanted to punch him in the crotch, and that needed to happen in person.
It was barely noon when we arrived. Jeffrey knew a couple of horse trainers in the area, and he arranged for us to take a ride around a gorgeous plantation on a pair of Arabian mares. I hadn't ridden much, but our guide did a good job of not making me feel completely incompetent.
Afterwards, we were invited into the plantation home for a late lunch and some samples of wine from their vineyard. Cabe called during the wine tasting, and I let it go to voicemail. I was having a good time and there was no sense ruining it. Besides, it turned out that Jeffrey was a lot of fun when he didn't have an agenda.
Happy hour arrived and we headed over to the comedy club to meet Peterson, Jeffrey's comedian friend. It was clear the guy had a gift for storytelling, and he shared a high school memory of a time when he and Jeffrey painted a penis on their school mascot, which was a stallion. He added that Jeffrey had stripped so they could get the dimensions right. I didn't know if I believed him, but the way he told the story made me laugh like hell.
Later, when Peterson took the stage, he told the story again, and Jeffrey was called on to help illustrate the punchline. Somehow, I laughed even harder when Jeffrey was involved. Maybe because he didn't mind being the butt of a joke, and maybe because I was feeling no pain after two glasses of wine and two gin and tonics.
By the end of Peterson's set, I'd received another call from Cabe and two texts. I could tell he was worried about me based on his voicemail, which asked for a simple 'hey' to let him know I hadn't been run off the road by a biker gang or gunned down in a drug raid. He tended to use humor when he was nervous.
My guilt got the better of me, and I popped off a text saying I was fine and would be staying overnight in Ocala. There was no way I was driving home.
"You want to stay and laugh some more?" Jeffrey asked when he saw me focusing on my phone.
"I think I'll take a raincheck. Can you drive me to the nearest hotel? I'm wiped out."
"Of course. There's a Hilton that's walking distance from here. I'll get you settled then pick up both cars so they're not sitting in the club's parking lot all night."
"Will you be staying at the Hilton?"
"Damn straight. I'm in no condition to drive to Miami."
"I agree. But what I meant was, I thought you might stay with Peterson. You two could reminisce about horse penises."
He laughed and I joined him. We were both pretty loopy. "Naw. He's got family at home. If he wanted me to stay, he would have asked."
We said goodbye to Peterson and started the two-block hike to the Hilton in beautiful downtown Ocala. It's wasn't much of a downtown, but I wasn't there to sightsee. I just needed to keep my feet on the sidewalk and not run into any streetlights. Jeffrey followed through on his promise to book me into a room. What really surprised me, though, was that he booked himself a separate room.
Afterwards, I handed him my keys and he went back out into the night to manage the cars. Fortunately, he was in much better shape than I was, which probably had something to do with his girth being double mine. When I heard his knock on the door, I was zoned out watching New Girl reruns on Netflix.
"The cars are tucked safely into their beds," he said, setting my keys on the nightstand. "You look like you're ready to crash."
"My body feels like crashing, but for some reason my mind won't shut off."
He took a seat at the table rather than sitting on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Did I want to talk about it? And, more importantly, did I want to talk to him about it? It wasn't just the situation with my dad that I couldn't get out of my head. It was Cabe and the horrible feeling I'd been carrying around all day.
"I think I'd prefer to ignore it for now."
"I'm sorry the comedy club didn't do the trick." He glanced at the television. "This is a funny show. I've seen this episode. Don't Nick and Jess finally kiss at the end?"
"Yeah. It's one of my favorite episodes. But I never felt like their relationship would last. They're too different."
"Do you think it's purely a physical attraction between them, like Schmidt and CeCe?"
"No. Nick and Jess are in love, but they're also both a mess."
"They're all a mess. That's the beauty of the show. It's the prime example of people making mistakes and figuring out their lives. And the fact that we can laugh at them makes those mistakes seem less serious. It's a study in human nature."
I watched him explain the world according to New Girl and something hit me in the gut. It wasn't the horrible feeling I'd been dealing with. This one was more like a flutter, and it traveled downward and settled between my legs. I knew this feeling well. I was turned on.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Writing this chapter made me think about what it means to connect with a place and all the bits and pieces that make it home. After spending my first twenty-five years in Las Vegas, I didn't think I would feel at home anywhere else. And I honestly can't say that Florida feels like 'home' after all these years here. Are there certain things that you connect with home?
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