4. Harrison Atwood

4

HARRISON ATWOOD

A few days earlier

W hen I walk into XXXtasy , Morrisey informs me that someone stopped by looking for me.

" I didn't tell him anything."

Of course he didn't. The club tends to have a strict privacy policy. Sure , those local to the area know who comes in and out regularly, but there's a reason that people from the city frequent the establishment as well. Privacy . You come here to watch and maybe get your dick wet. And not everyone wants their business spread around. Besides , Morrisey knows just how much I appreciate being left alone; he wouldn't just hand my whereabouts to anyone.

" Who was he?"

He shrugs. " Looked to be in his forties, maybe? Dark hair. I'd never seen him before. Pretty sure he was from the city."

Why would a random man from the city be looking for me… unless?

I pull out my phone and type in the name of the last person I expect to show up at a strip club in Ravenscroft . " Is this him?"

Morrisey looks at the photo I'm holding up and grunts. " Yup . That's him."

Huh . Good to know. " Thanks ."

I walk away, contemplating what this means. Pops has somehow found himself in town. Interesting . I don't know what he could possibly want, but he must be out of his damn mind if he's picturing some sort of warm and fuzzy reunion. There's no chance. He's dead to me.

When I needed a father, he was nowhere to be found and, by the time he decided he wanted to have a relationship with me, it was too late.

I was seven years old when he went to prison. Too young to understand what was happening. My mother did her best to shield me from the realities of who my dad was, which wasn't too hard considering we had never lived under the same roof.

Your father made some bad decisions and has to go away for a little while to make up for it. That was what she always told me when I would ask for him, but that was never enough for me.

I didn't understand why he couldn't repent in the city with us. Why would he leave us? Leave me.

Not once did we visit him while he was gone, and I often found myself feeling like an outsider in my family. My mother had moved on, marrying Jason , my step-father that same year. All while she simultaneously cared for my two-year-old brother.

With every year that passed, the resentment toward my dad grew. By the time he was released, I was fifteen, no longer confused as to why my father had disappeared. Turns out that making a living off stealing and dealing came with its own risks. The kids at school ostracized me. Parents didn't want their children fraternizing with the son of a drug lord as if it were some sort of contagious disease.

As if I would have chosen him for a father.

When he showed up at our apartment in the "lower basin" of Eidelberg —where all the low income housing was— Mom wouldn't let him through the door. At that point, the hatred for him in my heart had already solidified.

" Get the fuck out of here! Are you insane?" she seethed. " We want nothing to do with you."

" He's my son. I have every right to see him ."

" We can debate that in court." He tried to push through the door and rage filled my young body. He may not have been much of a parent to me, but Mom had done her best.

I ran out of my room, seeing him for the first time in years. I barely remembered his face, but he didn't look like someone I ever knew. He looked older. Different .

" There's my boy." He smiled at me.

" I'm not your boy." My voice shook as the words exited.

He glared at her. " Turning my son against me. Classy ."

" I did nothing. You made your choices." She looked down at me. " Harrison . Go to your room, please."

I did as my mother asked, but not before saying the one thing I had thought multiple times over the years. " I hate you."

I could still hear their heated whispers from where I sat on the edge of my bed.

That night, I pressed my ear against the wall, listening to my mother tell Jason about what happened while he was at work.

" He says that he's going to change. He's done dealing. Apparently , he's getting an office job."

" Do you believe him?" The skepticism was evident in my step-father's voice.

" I don't know, but I don't want him influencing Harrison ."

" Then he won't."

The next morning, they announced we would be moving. They never said it was because of my father's release, but it was no coincidence.

Time passed, and I had almost forgotten about him. Almost . Until I saw his face on the cover of a damn Forbes magazine. There he was. Xavier Atwood : a rising star in the business world. I read the article that detailed how he had gone from the slammer to VP of Communications for A - One media in only five years.

I couldn't believe it. Here we were a family of four, barely getting by. The cost of my mother's medical bills were sending us into crippling debt and my father was living the high life.

I dug online until I found the phone number for his assistant, who seemed quite shocked to hear that her boss had a son. A few days later, we were set to meet. As much as I didn't want to go to him for money, I knew it was a matter of life and death for my mom.

I could suck it up for her.

There was also a small part of me that wanted to see him. Or maybe I just needed him to see the man I had grown into. But when the time came, he never showed. No explanation. No call. Nothing .

I should have known better than to place hope in a man who had barely been around.

When my mother passed away because we couldn't afford to move her into a more advanced cancer treatment facility, I vowed to never speak his name again. As far as I was concerned, Xavier Atwood had died right alongside her.

It's been a decade since then, and now he's sniffing around Ravenscroft looking for me. He won't like what he finds, that much I know. Who I am now has nothing to do with him, but maybe it is time that I take what's due. Not because I need it, but because I want to watch him fall.