Page 18 of False God

An unforgivable choice maybe. But I’m already dealing with enough bloody resentment toward a parent, and I needed to come to New York for my meeting with Asher Cotes. So, I flew into JFK, rented a car, and showed up at my mum’s husband’s house for dinner. Ellis joining us for a free meal—that’s not speculation, as he announced it when he arrived—cut the tension a little. Not that much though.

I left their home early this morning and haven’t been back since. I’m supposed to meet them for dinner in four hours. Ellis was invited, too, but I’m doubtful he’ll be in shape for it based on his current appearance.

“So …” I glance around, trying to come up with something to say.

I don’t know Ellis well. The first time I met him—metanyof my mum’s family—was at her wedding to Derek two years ago. Georgia’s close to her sister, apparently. Her parents weren’t there, and I have no idea where they are. There are a lot of other questions I’d ask my mother before inquiring about my grandparents’ whereabouts.

“What are you doing here?”

“My dad’s an asshole and a liar,” Ellis replies conversationally.

“Oh.”

Bloody hell. I’m the last person who should be sharing advice on paternal relationships.

I loosen my tie and relax in the booth a little, eyeing the one remaining shot wistfully. I might need some alcohol to make it through this conversation. “Are you two close?”

Ellis has never mentioned his father to me. The topic never came up last summer either, when he, his sister, and his mum were all living at Derek’s Hamptons house.

“No. Dad’s a surfer. He and Mom met in Hawaii. He was there for a championship.” Ellis is talking even slower than usual, probably thanks to the alcohol in his system. “Still travels all over the world for them. Sometimes, he’ll send me and Jo postcards. Chile, Portugal, Indonesia, Mexico. He sleeps on the beaches usually. Says it helps him commune with the waves.”

I reach for the shot and suck it down in one gulp. It’s shit liquor, not smooth at all, but better than nothing.

Ellis’s face lights up like us drinking together has turned around his whole damn day. “Good, right? They’re out of limes, but I think tequila tastes fine on its own.”

I’d disagree, but I nod. “You surf?”

“Not well.” His posture slumps more. “Dad’s been saying we’re going to do a trip to South Africa together for years. For my twenty-first, which waslastsummer. He promised it would be this year instead. At the end of August so we could catch the Roaring Forties.” Ellis sighs. “He called me this morning, saying he had to cancel. Guess I should be grateful he remembered we had a plan at all. He usually doesn’t.”

“That’s really shitty, Ellis. I’m sorry.”

“He doesn’t need to be a damn duke, you know? I just want a dad who wants to spend time with me sometimes.”

I sympathize more than he knows. “My dad being a duke just meant he wanted to shape me into a duke. That was all we talked about when we spent time together. He might have been around, but he always had an agenda.”

Ellis perks up again. “Maybeweshould go to South Africa!”

My mobile buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and seeBlytheflashing across the screen.

“One sec,” I tell Ellis. “I need to answer this.” I slide out of the booth. “Order some water, okay? No more shots.”

He shoots me a shit-eating grin that makes me think I just ensured more shots will be on the table when I return.

I sigh, then head outside. The rain has stopped, and nothing looks cleaner. Now, the sidewalk is dirtyandwet.

“Everything okay?” I ask, watching water drip off the piled trash bags on the curb.

“My card isn’t working,” my little sister informs me.

At least, Ithinkthat’s what she says. There’s lots of commotion in the background on her end. Loud music and louder voices.

“What?”

“My card isn’t working!” Blythe shouts.

Shit.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Which one?”

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