The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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βIβm sure.β
I have not one single doubt about our relationship. Lots of doubts about whatβs going to happen with Miranda. But not one single doubt about Emmy and me.
Her smile loses its shadow. βItβs just that I might want kids. Maybe, you know, someday. Not right away.β
βEmmy, I havenβt wanted kids in any of my previous relationships. I was happy being Uncle Logan. And I very definitely didnβt want kids with Miranda. For reasons I canβt get into with you, sheβs not someone Iβd ever trust around children. I donβt feel that way with you. Iβm not pushing you or putting any time-limits on it. Unlike Miranda, my biological clock is not ticking. But Iβm open to it with you.β
She breathes out a long sigh of relief. βOkay, Daddy. Thank you for being so clear with me. Ta very much.β
βYouβre welcome. I donβt know what I did wrong with Miranda. Probably a lot of things. But I know we werenβt communicating by the end. I had no idea how much this desire for a baby had turned her head inside out. Thatβs not going to happen with you and me. Weβre going to talk and talk and keep talking.β
βTa, Daddy.β A wide, happy smile. Above it, I see thoughts moving behind her big eyes, but theyβre neither fears nor doubts. βYouβre the only man Iβve been with who didnβt make me feel like Iβm being too needy talking about our relationship. Ash would just disappear when I tried to talk to him. Like, for days. Matthew told me I should relax and go with the flow, and I try, I really do. But then I get scared and itβs easier to pull back and protect myself. But I know thatβs the cowardβs way out, and Iβm trying to be super-brave for you.β
βDaddyβs proud of you, sweetheart.β I rub noses with her again. βIt is easier to pull back and hide your feelings. Itβs much less likely youβll get hurt that way, isnβt it? But I wonβt tolerate that from you. Iβve only ever demanded honesty, little girl. I give you honesty and I require it in return.β
She turns the big eyes on me, brimming with emotion. βLove you, Daddy. And I am a little threatened by Miranda. I mean, she was your subbie for a long time and now she might be carrying your baby. Itβs a lot. But I promise to be honest with you and tell you if itβs getting on top of me.β
βGood.β I give her a deep kiss. βBecause the only thing thatβs allowed to get on top of you, little girl, is me.β
She giggles and we cuddle on the couch until Iβm ready for another round, because I canβt seem to get enough of her today.
* * *
Itβs after dinner, grilled white fish with lime and fresh basil from the garden, with the cat happily chomping away on the fish skins Emilyβs put in his bowl, that I get back to Rickβs problem. Heβs responded to my update by saying heβs approved my cost estimate but the firestorm is still driving a ton of traffic to his website, and Gloryβs not happy with me doing anything that reduces traffic.
βAll publicity is good publicity,β he quotes at the end of the email.
I start to type out an angry response but delete it. Thereβs no point getting into a pissing match with Rick or Glory. While I donβt believe all publicity is good publicity, I do believe the client is always right.
Well, usually right, and when heβs wrong, itβs impolitic to shove his nose in it.
Besides, Max has confirmed that heβs brought EvonneBringsTheTruthβs site down, and has a program running which automatically deletes posts or comments that combine Rickβs name with the word βrapeβ or the hashtag βRespectABitch.β Thatβs enough damage control for now, while I hunt down the woman behind the firestorm.
I return the missed call. Oliver Rowe, film financier. According to Rickβs notes, heβs a friend of both Castillos, with a toe in each pond: movie making and finance. I havenβt heard of any of the films Rowe has financed, and I wonder if theyβre art-house indies, or just vanilla porn films I havenβt come across.
Roweβs eating when he takes the call and doesnβt stop noisily munching in my ear after I introduce myself and explain the purpose of my call. It sounds like he goes through an entire bag of potato chips while we speak.
βOh, talent,β he says with a sniff when I ask him whether he knows Rick and remembers seeing him at the party. βNo, I didnβt spend any time with the talent at that party. I was there for more important reasons.β
βWhat were those?β
βWouldnβt you like to know? No, seriously, Pedro brought in two nice gentlemen from one of the Stans. Big beards, tattoos, heavy accents, dripping oil money. I was hoping one or both of them would drip some on me, but no such luck. It was a waste of a weekend, actually.β
βOne of the Stans?β
βYou know. Urzukastan. Bananaramastan. I canβt keep track, those little Balkan states reinvent themselves so often. Neither of them was as hot as Sebastian Stan, I do remember that, moreβs the pity.β
Iβm fairly sure the Balkan states do not include any βstans. But itβs been a few years since I studied geography at Heysham St. Peterβs.
βOkay, two foreign gentlemen. They came to the party. Did you have a meeting with them?β
βMeeting?β He snorts and crunches. βThey were only interested in drinking vodka and eye-fucking the girls in bikinis. It wasnβt a meeting. It was foreplay. I think we talked shop for less than ten minutes. You know?β His voice shoots up an octave. βI remember something else. After I gave up on the Stans, I walked down to the pool and saw your friend getting his knob waxed. The girl
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