CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT RIGGS

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

RIGGS

Three hours earlier

“I gotta stop smoking.” Charlie pressed his head against the hospital wall in the garden area, closing his eyes.

I side-eyed him, prying the joint from between his fingers and taking a drag. “It’s just a little weed, Charles.”

“Weed doesn’t agree with me.”

Charlie was a bummer today. I had a feeling he was bracing himself to tell me what was wrong with him. Whatever it was, it was serious.

“What makes you say that?” I passed him the joint anyway, and he took it.

He gnawed on the side of his cheek, staring down at his feet. He’d lost a bunch of weight since I last saw him, and his hands were shaking now.

“You ready for story time, Riggs?”

I jerked my chin to confirm I was.

Even though the old man was surprisingly bearable for a human, I mainly gave him my time and attention because of Duffy. As selfish as it may sound, if it was up to me, I’d be with her right now, telling her we needed to cut the bullshit and decide what we were doing next. What would having a girlfriend entail? I didn’t know, and I still wasn’t sure I wanted to give up my nomadic lifestyle.

But I was also just as sure I didn’t want to give her up.

“When I was young, really young, I used to smoke all the time. Until something happened to make me stop completely. I hadn’t touched a joint in thirty-seven years before you came to visit me in the hospital.” Charlie scratched his stubble, focusing on an ivy-laced wall in front of us.

“Okay .?.?.” I frowned. I hoped he wasn’t about to launch into a drugs-are-bad, straight-edge routine. Smoking weed recreationally and responsibly was fine. And yes, it was my hill to die on. Happy and stoned, thankyouverymuch.

“I tended to do a lot of bad things when I was high. Maybe I blamed it on the weed .?.?. I don’t know. But I always found myself up to no good. Driving recklessly, missing work, cheating on my girlfriend .?.?.”

“That was almost forty years ago,” I reminded him. “Fucking around and driving under the influence were shit moves, but you were a kid.”

When I was twenty, all I did was drugs, booze, and sex with as many people as I could find.

“One time .?.?.” Charlie ignored me, forcing himself to unglue his gaze from the wall and look me in the eye. “I really messed up. We were at a river. I worked the zip line at a park, so I had a lot of time to burn until opening hours. I’d rented out a dirt-cheap cabin nearby and goofed around most days.”

He licked his lips and swallowed. I had no idea where all this was going, but I was starting to feel uneasy. He seemed really stressed, considering this was four fucking decades ago.

“I had put up a tent on the river and forgot to zip it. I smoked a few and went down on some tourist. My girlfriend caught me.”

I puffed my cheeks, shifting uneasily. “That sucks, man. Is that the one who got away?”

“It is.”

“Well, sorry—”

“I’m not done,” he said sharply.

Dafuq did they put in your IV drip?

“She ran away. It took me a full five minutes to realize she’d walked in on me. That was how high I was. When I found out, I took the car and chased after her. Needless to say, that was a gigantic mistake.”

He shook all over in his wheelchair. I took the joint from his fingers and put it out, alert now. If he’d killed the woman, I was 100 percent telling the authorities.

“You chased her by car while you were high?” I repeated. “Were you competing for the Dumb-Fuck Award?”

He nodded grimly. “She sped up to escape me. I didn’t want to give up. I thought if I could just explain myself, she’d forgive me. We were going to go away, you see. She’d finally convinced me to move to California and assume my responsibilities. Start a family. I mean, we already had a family, I guess. A son. His granddad took care of him while we were working at this adventure park.”

I was beginning to feel very, very sick.

Either this was a tasteless joke made by Duffy and Charlie that they were going to pay for, or today just became the shittiest day of my entire existence.

Staring at him, I said nothing.

Charlie looked me straight in the eye. I held his gaze. I saw the guilt there. And it killed me just like it killed her. The woman I didn’t remember and would never meet again.

“She veered off the road trying to take a turn. Her car totaled right then and there in front of my eyes. I pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and ran to her. She was still alive when the paramedics were called. She told me to take care of our son. She really wanted to get her act together and become a mom to him.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. We did look alike. Fuck, we looked so alike it was comical. But when you meet a complete stranger who looks like you in a huge-ass country, in a city of multi-digit-million people, your mind doesn’t immediately go to Maybe he’s my dad. Yippee-yay, can we go to Disneyland together?

“Riggs?”

“What?” I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“This happened in Denali National Park. In Alaska.”

I stood up. If I didn’t leave now, I would punch him in the face. I was halfway to the sliding doors when I turned around and stormed back toward him. He stayed in the same spot in his wheelchair, looking like a miniature LEGO version of the man I’d met only a month ago.

“She wanted to come back to me?” That was my first question. Maybe that was what had been bothering me the most about my origin story. How a mother could turn her back on her son for a steady dick.

He managed to nod, just barely. Whatever was wrong with him, it put a huge strain on his muscles.

“Yes. She talked about you nonstop. Went to visit you every few weeks. She wanted us to be a family. Me, I was the asshole. I’d only seen you once. Your grandfather dragged me by the ear to meet you. He thought it’d make a difference, make me change my ways. You were tiny and angry and fragile. Colicky and very red. I took one look at you and figured it was too big a responsibility, too hard a job.”

A revolted smirk found my lips. “And I guess you extended that notion to after she died too. You never came back for me.”

Charlie’s skin budded with goose bumps. “Not for lack of wanting to. You don’t have to believe me—hell, I don’t expect you to—but that’s not why I didn’t come for you.”

“Why then?” I was yelling now. I needed to tone it down before I got kicked out of a hospital for abusing a patient. A dying patient.

“Shame. Embarrassment. Seeing your grandfather doing my job so much better than I ever could. Knowing deep down that you were better off without me.” He stared at the ground. “I took your mother away from you. And I treated her goddamn poorly. I only knew what you looked like from pictures. It seemed insane to go to California and rip you apart from the only constancy and stability you’d ever known. Your grandfather loved you. You were his pride and joy. I thought I was doing both of you a favor.”

How did a conversation about a fucking joint escalate to this? Charlie Black Mirrored my ass to oblivion. And yes, I used Black Mirror as a verb.

“Yeah? Well, thanks a bunch.” I bowed mockingly. “Your sainthood awaits at the counter in heaven. Make sure to collect it—you get great discounts for your halo and wings.”

He winced. “You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” I laughed. “I’m delighted. You’re right. I wouldn’t have loved spending my life under your wing. After all, I could’ve ended up like you. A washed-out, lonely, soon-to-be-former hunk with no family, barely any friends, no ties. Oh, wait a minute.” I pressed my finger to my lips, frowning. “That’s exactly what I am right now. Well, well. At least you didn’t have to watch it happen. Don’t worry, Granddad was kind enough to drop dead only after I was old enough to go to a private prep school, so I skipped the whole foster-family routine. Of course, I had to stay on school grounds every Christmas and Thanksgiving because I had no one to claim me.”

He swallowed again. His eyes were misty. I hoped he had a disease where you would drop dead if you cried. He deserved it.

“Where did you spend summer vacations?” he croaked.

“I’d usually convince one of my friend’s parents to sign me out to spend the summer with them and pick me up from school. But I didn’t want to impose, so they usually dropped me off halfway to their house, and I’d just hitchhike. At least I had money for nice hotels. You know I’m loaded, right?”

He bit down on his lip, reclining his head. A silent yes.

I tilted my head sideways. “Please don’t tell me this entire confession happened so I could pay for your lengthy hospital stay. I’d rather burn the money. Literally. On fire.”

He snarled, turning in his wheelchair sideways so as not to face me. “I’d never do that.”

“No, of course not,” I said easily, feeling like worms were eating at me from the inside. “You hold yourself to such high moral standards. I almost forgot.”

“What I did was inexcusable. I’m not looking for forgiveness.” He sounded stern and serious. Almost—and that was really ironic—like a father figure.

“What are you looking for then?” I crossed my arms, leaning against the wall. “Why did you even tell me? No, wait.” I held up a finger. “Before you answer that—when did you find out? And how?”

Charlie blinked at me, like the answer was clear. “The first time we met. It was damn obvious you were mine. You looked like me, talked like me, smelled like me.” He paused, lifting his hand with great effort to pull the collar of his hospital gown down at his neck. “We both have a birthmark the shape of South America on our neck. Kind of like a pointy tooth.”

My hand went instinctively to my neck.

“Now answer my other question,” I prompted. “Why now?”

Charlie closed his eyes. “Because I have a rare genetic disease that is killing me. And you might have it too.”

My hatred and shock were put on pause. He told me about Huntington’s disease while I sat on the bench next to him and read about it on my phone. When I saw that headaches were a part of the symptoms, I speared him with an icy glare.

“You told me you had a daughter. That she died when she was eight months old. Was that true?” I asked, remembering the time we went working together in Harlem.

Charlie tried to shake his head, moaning in pain halfway through. “No. But I couldn’t tell you the truth. Leaving you behind felt like mourning a child. So that’s how I articulated it.”

“Liar on top of a shit dad. Your talents know no bounds.” I paused. “Duffy knows you’re my father, doesn’t she?”

“She found out, yeah.”

“When?”

“On Friday.”

So, she kept it from me an entire weekend. No wonder she acted weird.

Charlie added, “She told me to tell you, or she would. She was never going to keep you in the dark about it.”

Not that it mattered. Being mad at her was redirecting my rage where it didn’t belong. If anything, I now knew why she’d spent the weekend nagging me about getting checked.

“So, I might have Huntington’s disease,” I said to sum it up. “And could die.”

“No,” Charlie said dryly. “You will die. That is a guarantee for all of us. But if you have the disease, it’ll happen sooner rather than later, so you better get your ass in gear and get checked.”

The more I looked at his face, the more I debated beating it to a pulp. “You don’t seem very sorry for passing it on.”

He laughed and coughed at the same time. “I’m only sorry for things I can control. I didn’t even know I was a carrier until I was in my fifties. I had no way to protect you. And I don’t think your headaches have anything to do with the disease. Now, neglecting you, I take full responsibility for that. But I want you to know that there hasn’t been a day—an hour—that I didn’t think about you. That I didn’t wonder who you were now, what you were up to, what you were doing. Every day, when I fell onto the mattress at night, I praised myself for not yielding to temptation and seeking you out.” He sucked in a breath. “And when I finally met you, man, you exceeded all expectations. You were all I ever wished for, and much more. My biggest punishment is knowing who you are and not having the privilege to spend time with you.”

I digested all of this, feeling .?.?. hell, how was I feeling? Sad, angry, disappointed, startled, annoyed, frustrated. All of the above, multiplied by a fucking hundred. More than anything, I was confused. Because even though he had ruined my life, arguably killed my mother, then neglected me (and on top of that maybe passed on a dangerous disease to me), I still couldn’t hate him all the way.

I rubbed at my jaw. “Now I get why you were all buddy-buddy with my ass. Wanting to meet up, go on vacation together. I thought you were hitting on me.”

He made a face. “Not everyone who wants your company wants to screw you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

I thought about Christian and Arsène. The looks they exchanged when they saw Charlie and me together. They knew. Or, at the very least, heavily suspected.

“So.” Charlie cleared his throat, looking very childlike all of a sudden, staring up at me with azure eyes. “What now?”

I thought about his question, then stood from the bench.

“Now’s the time I tell you to go fuck yourself, remind you that you’re a selfish bastard, and thank you for the heads-up about the disease you might’ve given me that will ensure I die a slow, painful death.”

“It’s not gonna be so slow,” he said, coughing out a joke.

I laughed, too tired to be mad at him. Yeah, he’d screwed up my life, but he was right in saying his situation sucked even more.

“Believe it or not, I hope the rest of your life isn’t terrible.” I tipped an imaginary hat down in his direction. “However short it may be.”

“That is very charitable of you.” He sat back in his wheelchair, eyeing me. “So does that mean I shouldn’t expect you back?”

“Correct.”

His throat bobbed. “Just making sure you’re aware—I don’t have much time. The nurse you met, Malcolm, he grabbed my stuff from the apartment because I’m not coming back.”

“Yeah .?.?.” I reached to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I understand why you didn’t come for me when I was young. Now it’s time you understand why I won’t come for you when you’re old.”

He put his hand on mine on his shoulder, trying to squeeze, and it seemed wild that I was holding hands with my father. The faceless figure I had spent so many nights secretly imagining in my head.

“I do understand.” He looked down, and I knew by the quake of his shoulders that he was crying. “Have a nice life, Riggs.”

I turned around and didn’t look back.

When I walked out of the hospital, I made two phone calls.

The first was to my health insurance provider, to get my blood work done and get myself checked for Huntington’s disease. I paid a hefty fee to get it done that same afternoon, at a private lab, for a quick answer.

The second was a conference call to Christian and Arsène. They both picked up instantly, probably because I was notorious for never calling anyone about anything.

“Did you knock Duffy up?” Arsène greeted me. “If so, no, I won’t be the godfather.”

“No offense, but I wouldn’t put you in charge of a Pet Rock.” I forced myself to smirk, like I didn’t just find out I had a father just so I could say goodbye to him for the last time.

“Do you need us to bail you out?” Christian continued along the same theme. “Because if so, you’ll need to give me the details now. Arya has a charity event, and we need to be there in two hours.”

“I hate both of you,” I informed them calmly. “And I called to ask a question.”

“The answer is right on top, between the labia. A small bud.” Arsène yawned. “Bean-like.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Arsène sighed. “With the amount of porn you watched, we figured you knew—”

“Cut the bullshit. You know what I’m asking.”

“Why didn’t we tell you what?” Christian asked.

“That he was my father.”

There was silence for a few seconds before they spoke.

“We weren’t one hundred percent sure,” Christian admitted. “That’s the main reason.”

“The secondary one being that if he really did neglect you, he didn’t deserve closure,” Arsène continued. “You’re insufferable but still worthy of more than this bastard gave you.”

“He gave me nothing.” I held up my arm once I got to the street, hailing a cab. The lab where I was going to give my blood was quick about withdrawing it. They said I should get the results back as early as twenty-four hours, sometimes sooner, if I came in today.

“Exactly,” Christian said. “Are you mad?”

“No.” I slipped into a cab. “Just weirded out. I’ll get over it.”

I couldn’t wait to get back home and talk to Duffy. She had the tendency to make sense of things.

And so, when I climbed up the stairs, I naturally started feeling a little better. Yeah, life was shit, my father was dying (and also in fucking existence), and, yes, I was on edge about the blood work, but there was Duffy.

Then I opened the door, and there wasn’t only Duffy.

There was also Cocksucker, bent on one knee.

A knee I wanted to snap with a baseball bat.