“You think I don’t know that?” he asked sharply. “I need Lee Nightingale breathing down my neck like I need a hole in my head. Sadie, you forced my hand, put me in a situation where I had to put one of my men at risk just so I could talk to my own goddamned daughter.”

I steeled myself so his words wouldn’t affect me.

“Are we done here?” I asked sounding like I was definitely done.

“No. I need to give you the name of the bank, the account numbers –”

“I think I already told you I don’t want your money and I’m fine where I am.”

More silence, this stretched longer, became scarier then my father said in a low voice, a voice I knew very well, the voice he used when he meant to be listened to and obeyed.

“We need to talk about Chavez.”

I fought against my conditioning to listen and obey and said, fake-breezily, “Talk away.”

“I don’t like you with him.”

“Well, I didn’t suspect you’d be leaping for joy but I also don’t care. I like him. He taught me how to make s’mores.”

Silence again, this time it wasn’t scary, it was something else.

“S’mores?” he asked and I could swear my always unruffled father sounded confused.

“Yes, those graham cracker sandwiches where you roast a marsh –”

“I know what s’mores are, Sadie.”

“Well, he taught me how to make them. He found out I’d never had them and always wanted to make some and he made sure I had them. And we sanded his floors. And his mother likes me. She’s going to teach me how to cook.”

The scary was back. “He’s got you, my daughter, sanding his floors?”

“I asked to do it. Hector wanted to watch a movie.”

“Jesus Christ,” my father muttered.

At this point, in order to speed things up and get the hell out of there, I channeled Hector and explained, “I know you don’t have a lot of time and you’re not getting this so I’ll give it to you. See, a good life is about sanding floors, making s’mores and laughing while you do the dishes. It’s about putting lip gloss on in the restroom with your girlfriends during a rock gig. It’s about being able to say things that aren’t smart or do things that are really stupid and people forgiving you. It’s about looking after each other. That’s a good life. Ralphie and Buddy, my friends, gave that to me. Then Hector came into my life and made it even better. I’ve had that life for…” I stopped, counted and then went on, “Five weeks and five days. I like it. I’m not giving it up. I’m not going to the Caymans and living the big life off your drug money, surrounded by pretty things, eating the finest foods, drinking champagne but being totally alone and utterly lonely. I’d rather paint Hector’s living room which is what I might do today, if he lets me. Now, can we stop talking so Jerry can take me home and good people can stop worrying about me?”

Apparently, he didn’t listen to a word I said.

“It’s my job to take care of you, I’m your father,” he told me.

“Well, if it’s your job, you’re fired,” I replied calmly, proud of myself.

Who would have known I had it in me?

But there it was.

Silence again, then, “This isn’t done, Sadie.”

It was my turn to sigh. “I didn’t figure it would be. But can it be for now? I need a shower.”

Then he surprised me again, he did this by giving in.

My father never gave in.

Ever!

“Give the phone to Jerry,” he ordered.

I smiled with saccharin sweetness (through my surprise) at Jerry and held out the phone.

“Daddy wants to talk to you.” I told him.

Jerry gave me a glare, took the phone, turned his back to me and walked out of the room.

Minutes later, he came back, holding a funny looking gun.

I stared in shock at the gun.

“Lights out,” Jerry said and the last thing I saw were the Taser prongs coming at me.

* * * * *

I came to strapped into the front seat of Jerry’s BMW and he was driving. I didn’t know how long I’d been out but it took awhile for me to get my faculties together.

I figured I’d chatted enough with Jerry, he wasn’t a great conversationalist so even when I had myself sorted, I kept my mouth shut.

After awhile, Jerry, unfortunately, felt like talking.

“I’m gonna stop for a second, you’re not clear of the car, I run you down. You try something smart, I go for payback. I’ll be nicer to you than Ricky, blood would put me off getting off. Who knows? Maybe you’d even enjoy it.”

Seriously.

What a jerk!

“Swine,” I mumbled, breaking my vow not to speak to him.

He kept on, clearly unhappy about me throwing him under the bus (or maybe he was swine). “Don’t mind sayin’, all the boys had a thing for you. Chavez wasn’t the only one; he just hid it better than the rest of us. You, Christ, all haughty, bitchy and ice cold. We spent a lot of time talkin’ about how you’d feel if we got a piece of you, if our cocks would freeze off or if you’d finally let loose and be a wildcat. Your Dad’s still got power but you try me, I figure it would be worth his retribution to have a crack at you and find out.”

I turned to Jerry. “You do know I was raped, don’t you? You do know that every word out of your mouth makes you lower than low, slimier than slime, scumier than scum? Don’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

I saw we were getting close to the Nightingale Offices and I knew that was where he was going to let me off.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, put my hand on the door handle and kept my mouth shut until I had just enough time to say exactly what I wanted to say.

Then, when the time was right, I said it.

“Just to appease your curiosity, Jerry, I like it fast, hot, hard and rough and I like it slow, gentle and sweet. I like it any way Hector wants to give it to me and he gives it to me loads. So, you can tell those ass**les, being pansy-assed and afraid of my father, they missed out because I am a wildcat. And that’s why Hector’s getting it, because he’s not pansy-assed or afraid of anything.”

And before he came to a full stop or could say a word, I threw open the door, put my feet to the pavement and ran.

I didn’t look back. I went straight into the building, to the stairs not bothering with the elevator.

I rounded the landing on the first flight and slammed right into Mace.