Page 4 of Vengeful Seduction
Of course. That was it. On my thirtieth birthday, my grandfather would call again. I knew he would. He always did. On that day, I would take the call, and I would accept anything he wanted to say to me. That was only three days away, and it would give me some time to prepare myself for whatever happened.
Hell, what did I know? There was a decent chance he just wanted to tell me off for ignoring him for so long. So be it. It was sort of ridiculous that I was hiding from him, or that I had done so for so long.
Anyway, I’d deserve it. I’d let time get away from me. Even now, I was a little bit anxious about the idea of speaking to him. Okay, in other words, I was downright terrified.
It was stupid, though. Stupid to be so scared. Stupid to let the fear keep on paralyzing me. I didn’t have to be close to him or anything. I would talk to him, I promised myself.
Somehow, that promise felt good. It felt like the right thing to do. There was even still the urge to call him right then and there, but no. I needed the time to psych myself up for it.
Just a few more days and I would hear the voice that was so much like my father’s that I had turned around at my dad’s funeral, sure he was the one who was talking. It had felt, just for a second, like my dad was somehow miraculously not in the ground.
It had felt like a betrayal when I had seen that it wasn’t my father, but my father’s father who had spoken. So, yes, I argued with myself, I did need time to prepare myself. What were a few more days, when measured against the twelve years that had already gone by?
Somehow, that decision didn’t feel nearly as good. It sat like a hard lump in the pit of my stomach, telling me maybe there wasn’t time.
Which was ridiculous, of course. If my grandfather had truly had something important to say, he could have said it to my answering machine. I had always counted on that. That if there were an emergency, I would know because grandpa wouldn’t just hang up. He would leave a message.
Call him.
The two words echoed through my head and I frowned. Maybe I should just get it over with. Like ripping a bandage off. Swift and painful as hell, yes, but at least it would be over.
I almost jumped out of my chair when the phone started to ring again.
If it was him, I would answer. If he called back twice in a row, that would be what did it. That would mean he really, really wanted to talk to me and maybe I should listen.
My whole body tensed up as I slowly, slowly, let my eyes drift down to my screen. Did I hope it was him or not? Even I couldn’t really tell.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as my eyes finally rested on the lit-up screen. The number was familiar, but it was Brent, my best friend and partner in crime at Black Tech.
All of the air left my lungs, leaving me feeling curiously drained. There was no question about not answering this call, though, and I picked it up without hesitation. Even so, with how long it had taken me to muster up enough courage to look at my phone, I was sure I’d gotten it right before it went to my voicemail.
“David, what the hell? Do you not check your work emails anymore?” Brent sounded peeved, and I had to hold back a slight sigh. I was sure I was letting everyone down and it sort of pissed me off.
“It’s not work hours,” I snapped back, but Brent didn’t even really seem to be listening to me. He was the numbers guy, the one who made sure our little company kept growing, and he clearly had something to say on the matter.
“These Q3 results aren’t looking too good. If we’re going to close out the year where we need to be, we’re going to need to make some changes.”
Sighing, I transferred the phone to my left hand and rubbed at the bridge of my nose with the right. I knew Brent would be able to handle it. He was much better at this sort of thing than I was.
Still, it was my job to listen, so I settled down to do what needed to be done. Three days would be soon enough to talk to my grandfather.
Wouldn’t it?
Chapter 2
Kaye
After the phone call that went unanswered, it was like Theodore gave up. Like he’d been holding on to try to talk to his grandson, and when that didn’t happen, he just stopped wanting to try to live at all.
He lasted one more night and one more morning. He’d spent the whole of that morning closeted with his lawyer, which only added to the nagging feeling I had about him not caring anymore.
It had all happened too fast for me to believe it was truly a coincidence. The day Theodore had tried to call his grandson, he’d been an old, sick man. The next day, he’d been dying and putting his affairs in order.
The skies were gray when I went to his home that morning. Not a bird chirped, not a butterfly flew, and it had my mind going in a bad direction.
I’d been through this same thing too many times. It was as if death lingered in the space, waiting to take the sickly person to the other side.
It was both a happy and sad time. Happy because there would be no more suffering—Theodore would finally be at peace—and sad because he would be missed. I already missed him.
