Page 14 of Bidding War

“No, raw rice.”

She leans out past my cabinets. “It’s not for hot water bottle purposes?”

“Nope. My phone.”

She winces. “Your luck sucks, honey. Thought it might have been for cramps. Be right there.”

I wish she were wrong about my luck, but she’s not. Today has been utter garbage. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

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8

ANDERSON

When I wake up in the morning, I’m still enraged at my father, but something else has come over me. I am glad I didn’t run up to his apartment and kick his ass. That would not have solved anything, and if Moss had been there, he might have started something on Dad’s behalf. That guy is always armed, so it wouldn’t have gone in my favor, and Mom would have been beside herself. I made the right call by coming home instead.

It's given me time to think.

Dad responds to very little, aside from verifiable threats and outright violence. But he respects people who stick to their guns, and I am not about to back down over this. I will go to him. Tell him this isn’t up for debate. Demand not only that he unfreeze my accounts but also that he gives me the cash. I earned it. Three dead bodies say so.

A wave of discontent threatens to settle over me, but I am undeterred. Time to see my father.

After a quick shower and dressing for the weather, I take the Jag for the four-hour long drive to the New York harbor, where he keeps his sailing yacht. It’s the fourth Saturday of the month, which means he will be entertaining clients on his yacht. By the time I arrive, he will be doing the precheck to make sure everything is ready to go by the time everyone shows up. Can’t let them see you sweat, he likes to say.

Dad handles everything himself. That’s why he wanted a relatively small yacht. No staff. According to him, staff are liabilities on a yacht. If they screw up, then a client could get injured, or worse. Never mind, there are professional licensed and insured companies he could hire for the job. Never mind, they have better reflexes than he does at his age. Nope. He has to do it all himself.

It's the perfect time to get him alone.

As I cross the bridge, I see the harbor isn’t frozen over this year. It should be smooth sailing. No surprise there. Elliot West always gets calm waters and easy passage to everything.

Not today.

I park by the docks and jog out to his boat. The Sea Star is so named for all the stars we have helped over the years. Mom’s idea. It’s as close to kitsch as Dad would allow.

There he is, looking every bit the navy man he thinks himself to be, in his midnight blue wool peacoat. The truth is, Dad avoided all things military easily enough. No draft when he was coming of age, and his father didn’t want another sailor in the family. He was so disappointed when Dad bought the yacht.

Grandfather said there was too much death on the water. Had a fear of it after his Swift boat went down in the war. He never spoke about it. I only knew because Grandmother told me once. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t go swimming with me and my brother, so I asked. He walked away, but she explained a little.

As soon as Dad sees me, there’s a knife in my gut. I hate that he looks pleased at my presence. I would have preferred anxiety on his face. “Ahoy!”

Ahoy— Like he’s a fucking waterman. I move to step onto the gangplank and start, “Hey?—"

“Hay is for horses, and you know what to say before you come aboard another man’s ship.”

I barge on anyway. “Not playing your games today.”

“By all rights of the water, I can throw you overboard for that, stowaway.”

“And by rights of the land, I could have shot you for breaking into June’s apartment, so maybe we won’t play that game today, huh?”

He snorts a laugh. “You? You’d have to be a better shot than what I saw in the warehouse footage.”

I’ve been in his presence for under a minute, and I’m ready to strangle him. But I will not give him the satisfaction of letting him see me lose my cool. I will remain aloof. It’s one of the few things he responds to. “By that comment, I take it we are here alone?”

“Yes. Why have you come to see me here? You’ve never shown any interest in my hobbies.”

“Same to you,” I say with too much emotion. Dammit. Shut that shit down. “I came to speak to you alone.”

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