Page 90 of Hired Help

He rubs a hand over his beard, stroking it into a sleeker shape. “Turns out you weren’t attending Dilworth anyway, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

I frown at the name. “The school in Auckland?”

He rests his hands on his legs, rubbing against the frayed denim of his jeans. “Gwyn fought me for years to take you up north. I had no reason to believe you were anywhere except where she said you were.”

“But why would she…?” I trail off, shifting uncomfortably, reaching for Brooke’s hand for the comfort rather than the challenge. And she’s there, offering reassurance I don’t deserve from her. “You could have called or texted.”

This time, his voice is softer. More hesitant. “You wouldn’t return my calls. When I planned visits to Auckland, you’d never show. There’d always be a forgotten party or some other last-minute excuse. I just—” He abruptly breaks off, coughing as his face becomes darker, his brow thunderous.

My mind fills with memories of Mum nervously pacing the house, waiting for the assigned time to come and go. She’d whisk me out to friends, to the movies, to golf or tennis or badminton. Anything to wipe the sting away.

Now I sit here, staring at my father, unable to believe he’s this good a liar. If he’s telling the truth, those outings weren’t to make up for his abandonment. They were to get me out of the way so we’d each think the other was avoiding them.

The thought cuts me to the bone with its cruelty.

“I couldn’t afford to keep flying up there and Gwyn wouldn’t…” He shakes his head. “She refused to let you come down here. Said it would interfere with your schoolwork even when I took time off during the holidays.”

I pull out my phone, unsettled, handing across one of the last messages he sent. “Remember that?”

“Even if you don’t answer, I’ll keep texting. I’m still your father even if you hate me right now.”

“Yes, I remember, but—”

I snatch the device back from him. “And do you remember the three-year silence that followed?”

Instead of answering, he digs out his phone, scrolls for a moment, and passes it over. “After you sent this, I didn’t think I could do it any longer.”

I stare at the message. One that came from my phone number but isn’t mine.

“Text me again and I’ll change my number.”

A low level despair sweeps over me because there isn’t anything good at the end of this discussion. I started off with one absent parent, now my whole view has shifted so I can’t trust the other.

Dad leans forward, “I’m sorry. I knew Gwyn was filtering stuff, but I didn’t understand how deep that went. As far as I knew, you were reluctant to visit with me for years, then I lost my rag at the wedding, and I just thought…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, body tensing. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“I didn’t. You made a fucking spectacle of yourself. It was embarrassing as shit.”

“Yeah. I—” As he breaks off, I can see the list of excuses lining up for duty, then they scatter as he shrugs. “Yeah. I was a mess and I’m sorry.”

I incline my head a little. “Nowhere near as embarrassing as finding your dad stripping for a group of your peers.”

“Stripping.” He makes a dismissive noise. “I didn’t so much as undo my bow tie.”

“Much to the crowd’s dismay and only because you’d never have got it tied again,” Brooke interjects. “Nice to know I’m not the only one with a shitty family.” She nudges me with her elbow. “Welcome to the rejected children’s club. It’s dank down here.”

Dad shakes his head, eyes sad. “I never rejected you.”

Brooke’s smile spreads wide with delight as she leans into the tease. “You’re openly fooling around with his girlfriend. How’s that not a rejection?” She curls into me, hooking her hands around my upper arm, pulling her legs up on her seat. “Bad daddy.”

“Holy shit,” I murmur, cupping her cheek until her head rests against my shoulder. “Ever thought of leaving well enough alone?”

“I’ve never left anything or anyone. I wouldn’t even know how.” She tilts her head. “Does this mean I can trust you two alone in a car together? I’m grateful you’re here but I think I’ll be better off talking to Alicia alone.”

“If that’s what you need,” Dad says, “we’re happy to wait outside.”

“Maybe we should pay mum a visit while we’re at it,” I suggest. “See if we can get some truth out of her.”

Brooke’s eyes widen in surprise. “Right.Nowyou’re invested in communicating, are you?”

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