Page 3 of Her Royal Daddy
Really? Seriously? I turned the envelope over and looked at the writing on the front again, but the anger inside me wasn’t subsiding, or even simmering. It was building, and Azid was watching me, just waiting for the explosion.
“Excuse me.” Thrusting the letter into his waiting hands, I turned and slammed out of the lounge. A younger me would have punched my fist through the wall. Azid knew that, which was probably why he followed me.
My chest was tight. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t explain, couldn’t even look at him as I stormed down that long dark hallway toward the neon exit sign, flung open the back door, and exited into the dark garbage-filled alley beyond. Only once I was safely outside did I finally let the thinning ties on my temper snap, if only just a little.
I cursed. It was loud, explosive, and it echoed all the way out to the street, attracting the attention of some smoker who stuck his head around the distant corner to check me out.
“At least you didn’t punch the wall,” Azid mused, pushing through the door to join me.
I glared at him, but we had been good friends for too long for me not to open up. “Did you read that shit, man?”
“I did.” His dark eyes flickered in sympathy, reflecting what I already knew. As much as I wanted it to be, that letter wasn’t a scam.
Or if it was, it was a damn good one.
My childhood home had been full of paintings of Osei, a small island off the coast of Africa and a place most people have never heard of. I’d asked her about them once. She’d told me she had painted them from pictures she’d seen in a magazine. Obviously, that had been a lie, and not her only one either, since my father was still alive. And not just alive, he was a fucking king. Like, of a kingdom.
I rubbed my face with both hands, hearing the rasp of my palms against the five o’clock shadow I hadn’t bothered to shave before going onstage. Women liked me ‘scruffy.’ They tipped better.
“I’m named after him.” My voice sounded cold and empty even to my own ears. “She fucking gave me his name, and then told him not to contact us, and told me he was dead. Who does that?”
Jaw clenching, Azid watched me pace the alley. “Off the top of my head, I’d say someone who loves her son.”
Trust Azid to know exactly what to say to cut straight through the last of my temper and nick me where it actually, physically hurt. I loved my mother, too, and I missed the hell out of her now that she was gone.
“Look, we don’t know her reasons or the whole story, and we might not ever. She’s gone, she took it to her grave, and as much as it sucks, that’s just the way it is. But if this man is your father, then he’s reaching out to you now, bro, and you have a choice to make.”
I glared at him.
He grabbed my shoulders and shook lightly. “Wake up, man! Are you kidding me? You might be the son of a king! The only question I see here is, are you going to man up and go to Osei, at least long enough to hear his side of the story, or are you going to go home, go to bed, and pretend this whole day never happened? Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back, but you’d have to be crazy not to be just a little bit curious.”
As much as I wanted to blow the man off and fail to acknowledge that I had ever received his stupid letter, like a big silent ‘fuck you,’ I knew I was going to go. For a split second, I considered asking Azid to come and actually have my back, but I dismissed the idea just as quickly. This was something I had to do for myself. And Azid would still have my back—he would just have it from a different continent.
Eyebrows arching as if he could hear my inner thoughts, Azid smirked and handed me his phone. “Call that Jax dude. I’ll wait for you inside.”
Five minutes later, my fate was sealed. In a week’s time, I’d be aboard a private jet, headed for the island of Osei. To meet my father. The King of Osei.
