I inhale deeply. Whatever happened, it doesn’t seem like it was Lori’s fault. “Sorry I yelled at you.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Westland. But yeah, it was your ex-wife, so you should, you know…talk to her.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.” I hang up, then immediately call Geneva.
What the hell is she plotting? She’s still irritated that part of the divorce settlement stipulated no further claims on each other’s assets, ever. Her idea, because she was afraid I’d come after her and her rich fiancé. But I know it infuriates her that she can’t claim a penny of the money from my Sweet Darlings deal.
If she’s trying to use Vi…
Geneva finally answers. “What do you want?”
“Where’s Vi? Is she with you?”
“Vi? Why are you asking me?” I can almost hear the wrinkling of her nose. “Did she say she was going to come see me? Ugh. You keep her at home. You know how Churchie doesn’t like kids, and I don’t have time right now. I have a wedding to plan.”
She isn’t lying. In my panicked anger, I forgot how self-centered she can be. Not wanting to hear her prattle on and on about her asshole fiancé and the wedding, I hang up, then finally remember I got Vi her own cell phone when we moved to L.A.
“Hey,” she answers.
Relief flows through me. Followed almost immediately by a fury hot enough to singe my scalp. “Where are you?”
“Eating ice cream and watching TV.”
“I didn’t say what, I said where!”
“Dad,” she says, all Miss Maturity. “Take a breath.”
“Take a—?” She’s lucky she isn’t standing in front of me, because I might just throttle her. “You’re grounded until you’re sixty!” I yell, even though a small voice in the back of my head says maybe I shouldn’t threaten that until she’s home first.
“Whatever. The most you can ground me is until I’m eighteen.”
My blood boils. I inhale, whether to calm myself or to gather more angry words to fling at her, I’m not sure yet. There’s some murmuring in the background, then a new voice comes over the phone.
“Hi. I just want to let you know there’s no reason to worry, because your daughter’s with me. I ran into her after work, and decided to keep her with me. Apparently, she got locked out of your apartment.”
A woman. I relax a little. I know it’s stupid—women can be just as vicious as men—but at least the probability that Vi is with a perv isn’t as high. Her voice is familiar…probably one of the neighbors I ran into when I was looking at the unit. The people in the building seem like a friendly enough bunch…other than Kim.
“Hey, ’preciate it. Do you mind telling me where you are? I’ll come get my kid out of your hair,” I say, reaching for my keys.
“Sure. Apartment 1104.”
I put the keys back on the rack, and go out into the hall. I’m in 1106. And 1104 is…
My head slowly swivels. That’s…
Fuck.
Chapter Thirteen
Kim
I give the phone back to Vi. “You shouldn’t give your dad static that way,” I say. “He’s just worried about you.”
She rolls her eyes.
Oh boy. Why me? I’m not capable of guiding a young kid. “If he’s that bad, do you want me to call the cops?” I ask, almost certain that she’ll back off and realize she’s having an unreasonable temper tantrum. “I can have him arrested for child neglect and endangerment. You’ll never see him again, and you’ll get a whole new dad.”
Her small jaw drops. “You can really do that?” Something I can’t quite read sparks in her eyes.