47. Daddy Problems

Chapter 47

Daddy Problems

Megan

L ena and I do the work of pretending to clean up our paint and sip as Naomi takes her phone call. Naomi's body language is strikingly different than her normal presentation. She is sitting stoically on the floor with her back up against the sofa, knees up, staring down at her red-painted toes. I’ve never wanted to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation as badly as I want to right now.

After ten excruciating minutes, she ends the call, and Lena and I immediately stop what we are doing.

“Well?” I say as Naomi continues to stare into space. “Are you going to finally talk about what’s going on with you and what the hell that conversation was all about?”

“Am I missing something?” Lena asks, staring between the two of us.

“My father is in trouble.”

“Your father?” Lena echoes.

“But who is your father, Naomi?” I ask, my mouth in a serious line.

Her head pops up, and she looks directly at me.

“You know?”

“Not much, apparently,” I say.

“Know what?” Lena demands.

“Naomi has not been totally truthful about who she is,” I say.

“Does Hunter know?” Naomi whispers.

“Is that all you care about right now, if Hunters knows? It sounds like you have bigger fish to fry than Hunter Middleton.”

“Did he tell you, Megan?”

“He told me your real last name–Fabre. He told me that your family is from Louisiana and not wherever the hell you said you were from when we first met. He told me that your family is powerful down there and definitely dangerous.”

“Holy crap!” Lena says, covering her mouth with a hand in shock.

“He told you a lot,” Naomi says regretfully. “Maybe too much.”

“No, Naomi, you didn’t tell me enough or rather anything at all. I’ve been friends with a virtual stranger. I don’t know anything about you. It’s fucking weird.”

“How long have you known?”

“Not long enough.”

“And let me guess, your baby’s daddy doesn’t trust me now?”

“Do you blame him? He thinks you’re up to something.”

“Megan, you know me better than anyone else in my life. I am not up to anything. Your boyfriend thinks too highly of himself if he thinks that any of this is about him.”

“Fiancé,” Lena corrects Naomi but I give her the big sister stare.

“Not now, Lena,” Naomi scolds.

“Then tell us what is going on. If we’re friends like you say we are, like I’ve always believed we were, then tell me about this fiancé of yours.”

“His name is Gabriel, and I’ve known him my entire life. Our families hate each other.”

“Then why is he your fiancé?” Lena asks, rightly confused. “Or are you two like star-crossed lovers or something?” she asks a little too excitedly.

“Trust me, we’re not star-crossed. We don’t like each other.”

“Then why does he have your phone number? I saw the call come in. You have his number saved,” I say, sounding like a Nancy Drew novel.

“We have one thing in common. Neither of us wants to marry the other. So, he was the one who helped me get out of New Orleans undetected. I went to Texas first, then Mexico, and finally, I settled in Los Angeles. He’s the only person who I kept in contact with from my old life and that’s only because it was the only way he would help me. It was part of the deal.”

“Why would you have to marry someone you don’t want to in this day and age?” Lena asks.

“My life in New Orleans is different than the normal one a person lives. We may live in a modern-day age, but familial expectations of me were established long before women had a voice in our family.”

“Yes, but you have a voice now.”

“No,” Naomi shakes her head. “I don’t. There are sacrifices people made from every generation in my family so that my family could thrive in America. I am expected to honor those sacrifices.”

“By marrying a man, you don’t love?”

“By marrying a man who understands the sacrifice,” she says in a voice that is not hers. It’s clearly something that’s been said to her by someone in her family, probably many times.

“Do you have brothers or sisters, Naomi?” Lena asks.

“A brother.”

“And you two aren’t close?”

Naomi’s posture changes, becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“He was murdered ten years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, but she continues.

“By the same family, my parents want me to marry into.”

“Wait, what? Gabriel’s family?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh my God. No wonder you don’t want to go through with it. I mean, there are lots of reasons why you wouldn’t want to, but that’s got to be top of the list. Does this Gabriel guy know this?”

“He has never claimed or denied his family’s part in my brother’s death, which makes me hate him all the more. He tries to act like he’s Switzerland in all things when you can’t be Switzerland. You have to pick a side. You just have to.”

I place a hand on Naomi’s shoulder as I watch her become increasingly upset.

“You’re a hundred percent right, babe, but what was the call tonight about? Does he call you often?”

“He called to warn me.”

“About what?”

“My father knows where I am.”

Just as Hunter predicted.

“And what does that mean?”

She emits a heavy sigh.

“It probably means that he’s coming to get me.”

“To do what?”

“To take me back home. To force me to do my duty. Be a good wife. A good…mafia wife.”

“What about your mother? What does she think?” Lena asks, her tone filled with worry.

“My mother is a prime example of who my father wants me to be. She married a man chosen for her. She bore him a son and a daughter. And she keeps her mouth shut. Trust me, she does not have my back. If anything, she’ll probably pack my father a bagged lunch for the flight he’s going to take to come here.”

“Why are the three of us such damaged goods?” Lena whispers, plopping down on the couch beside Naomi.

“We’re not damaged goods,” I defend vigorously. “I’m pregnant and getting married to the greatest man in the world, your brother. You are making food that everyone raves about at the Blue Whiskey, and Naomi is going to be the perfect celebrity hairstylist. She just needs that one client.”

Naomi looks at me and offers a half smile.

“I am never going to be a hair stylist, Megan. It was a fool’s dream thinking that I could ever outrun my father. I bet he’s known where I’ve been since I got here. Hell, I bet Gabriel was the one who told him. I know my dad. In his mind, he’s let me sow my wild oats like Eddie Murphy did in the movie Coming To America , but now it’s time to come home and do my duty.”

“Your father wouldn’t hurt you, would he?” I ask, considering the gravity of the situation.

“No, but he’d definitely hurt anyone who stands in his way.”

“Do you want me to ask Hunter for help? He seems to know a lot–”

“No!” Naomi exclaims. “I don’t want Hunter anywhere near this. My father will perceive it as a threat. And a threat to Hunter is a threat to you. And if anything happened to you, to either of you, because of all that I’ve kept from you guys– I’d never forgive myself.”

“But no one should have to get married against their will. This is insane!” I protest.

“Actually, Megan,” a deep voice interrupts as he walks through the front door of our apartment. “It’s none of our business.”

I stand to face Hunter.

Hands seated on both of my hips.

“My best friend is our business.”

“Only for the next twenty-four hours.”

“And what happens in twenty-four hours?”

“Mr. Marc Fabre will land at the Los Angeles airport, and when he does, I don’t want you or Lena to be any part of that business. I won't fucking stand for it.”