Page 50 of South Beach Bodyguards

I needed to set myself straight. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I called my father. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, sounding surprised. “What’s up?”

Without preamble, I asked a question I never had before. “Do you know where my mother is, or a contact number for her or anything?” I had been planning to go to the liquor store but I decided to actually go inside a bar and order a drink instead of buying a whole bottle. I pulled open the door to one of those crappy bars that didn’t try because tourists will pay no matter what the décor or service was because of the convenience to the hotels and beach. I took a stool by the door.

There was a huge pause where my father said nothing. Then he cleared his throat. “Why do you want that information? I mean, I don’t have it, but I can get it. But why?”

Maybe he thought I was going to lose my shit on her or something. “I just want to ask her why she left. That’s all. I feel like because of that, because of her, I can’t be in a relationship. I’m a dick to women because I’m afraid.” I hated admitting that to Mickey but he probably already knew anyway. And I needed to be honest with myself and with him. Maybe my parents needed to know they had their share in fucking me up. What I did now was my responsibility, but it would be nice to have them acknowledge they weren’t parents of the year. Then I could move forward, get on with my life.

“Look, kid, your mother won’t have the answers you want to hear. There is no reason good enough to justify what she did to you, do you hear me?”

“I know. But she has to have some explanation, right?”

“Yeah, that she was selfish. You deserved better. Hell, I deserved better. But if you want to talk to her, I’ll find a number.”

“Thanks, Mickey.”

“Sure. And I know I sucked at being a father, but the thing is, I was hurt too, and I didn’t deal well with it. I got caught up in my own grief, ya know? I’m sorry for that. It’s my biggest regret in life, I hope you know that.”

It was more than I was expecting. It did touch me. “Thanks, Pops. I appreciate you saying that.”

Then because he was my father and there was no way he was going to let a tender moment linger without ruining it, he added, “Now stop being a pussy and call Isabel and apologize. That kid is moping around like you broke her damn heart.”

“What am I apologizing for?” I asked wryly, annoyed but curious what he might know.

“For existing. That’s my advice to you regarding women. Just apologize whether you get why you need to or not.”

“Says the guy who has been married three times.” But I wasn’t actually angry with him. He had just given me more in three minutes than he had in three years, whether he realized it or not.

“At least I can get ‘em. Maybe I can’t keep them but I can get them.”

That made me roll my eyes. “I’ll put that on your headstone some day.”

He laughed. “And yours should say, “He was a good kid, but he needed to lighten up.”

That actually made me laugh. “Maybe so.”

After we ended the call I ordered the whiskey I had been craving and leaned against the wall next to the table. The question wasn’t about me. The question was about Isabel. How did I feel about her?

I pictured her smile. The way she talked about her dog. The way she looked at me. I didn’t feel worthy of her. But I couldn’t help but think that if there was such a thing as a soul mate, as in someone you looked at and recognized the other half of yourself, that was how I felt when I looked at Isabel.

If I was going to take a giant leap of faith and see if I could be a better man for Isabel, I had to be confident in what I was doing. I had to be ready. Like a dangerous assignment. Be prepared.

I wasn’t there yet.

But for the first time I thought maybe I could be.

Standing in the living room of my new apartment, I surveyed the room with satisfaction. My mother had just left, after insisting on putting shelf paper down in the kitchen– did everyone’s mother do that?– and I had boxes stacked all around. I was tired from hauling furniture and boxes all day, but I wasn’t going to go to bed any time soon. I was excited to unpack and get settled in. I had opted not to have a roommate. Just me and Buster.

The only thing missing was a sofa, but Mickey had told me he was sending over the set from the house in Coral Gables, which had sold but hadn’t closed in escrow yet.

“What do you think, Buster?” I asked, rubbing behind his ears.

He looked like he approved, but that could have been for the attention I was giving him.

There was a knock on my door and I frowned. “Who is that, buddy? Did Mom forget something?”

But when I looked through the peephole I saw Ryan standing there with Alejandro. Damn it. I didn’t want to see him. We hadn’t spoke in two months and I was good with that. After the initial heart-wrenching realization that Ryan wasn’t going to be bothered to check up on me, I had gotten pissed. If he was that much of a commitment-phobe and incapable of basic human compassion than screw him. I didn’t need that in my life. I was done spinning fantasies.

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