Page 87 of Enemy Daddy Next Door

He places the box into the hole takes a breath and then stands up. A single tear rushes down his cheek, but he smiles despite it. “That feels good.”

Watching Dad let go of Mom is all I need to let go of her too. I take his hand. The only parent I need, right here. The one who has never flinched away.

I want to be like him when I grow up.

In fact, with Hunter and Jessica, I can be that.

Fuck Veronica. Fuck all the complications. I’m showing up for what I love. Magnanimously. Fully.

With hope I haven’t allowed myself to have in a long time.

24

HUNTER

When my assistant told me that there was someone asking for me at the front desk of the Ricks Corporation building, the last person I expected to walk through my door was Hank Turpin.

I shoot out of my chair to meet him. “Mr. Turpin, what a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Hank tries to greet me in return but has to take a moment to catch his breath. He’s panting, clearly having run the whole way. “I have news,” he wheezes, pulling a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and blotting his face.

I lead him to a chair and pour him a glass of water as he cools down from his sprint. He drinks the entire glass in one go, a drop of water dribbling down his chin.

“My god, man, what happened to you?”

Hank slams the glass down and then smiles at me. “I’ve got the double whammy for you.”

I lean on the edge of my desk. “Lay it on me.”

“Well…Your girl’s new fiancé –”

“She’s not my girl.”

“It’s an expression, Ricks. In my line of work we use a lot of expressions. Stay with me.”

I resist a smile. Maybe the reason Hank is so out of breath is he had to climb out of the pulp detective novel he was written into.

“He’s a drug dealer. A big one.” He then pulls out a stack of photos from his jacket and lays them on the table.

I glance down at the mugshot of Greer Daniels. Except that’s not the name on the board he holds below his sneer for the camera.

“Gary Dawson. I swear, these guys and their aliases. They’re so lazy.”

My heartbeat quickens. “Okay, so she’s wrapped up with a drug dealer.”

“No court is going to give custody to a woman wrapped up with a drug dealer. Especially the likes of Dawson. This guy’s gone as far as plastic surgery in order to keep up his drug operation. Involved with the cartels. It’s a whole thing.”

I pale at the thought of Jessica having to even be near this freak. I know it’s an impossibility now, but being a father, the what ifs are never far from my mind. “She’s probably on drugs, then.”

“She wouldn’t be able to sneeze without ruining a pile of cocaine. You think a former addict can resist that?”

I gulp. “That’s great news.” That’s the only time news like that has been described as “great”.

Hank smiles. “Yes, the first whammy. But the second –” Hank pulls out an old timey tape recorder from his jacket pocket. Jeez, what year does this guy live in? “Just in case we get one of those sympathetic, millennial judges, I’ve got motive.”

I frown. “Motive?”

He presses play on the recording. First, I hear Hank’s voice. “I want to move ten kilos to a place with a more northern exposure, you catch my drift?”

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