He brought his bottles to the kitchen. “Here’s a question. What the fuck is up your ass today?”
I dropped the bottles into the trash can beneath the sink. “Nothing.”
“Nothing is what a fat man leaves on his plate and what the ladies are yearning for when I’m done with them. But it is most definitely not what is bothering you.”
“That makes no sense.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Fuck off. You know what I mean.”
I did, but I wasn’t sure how to explain what was rattling around in my head.
I leaned on the counter. “Have I ever mentioned my father to you?”
His features softened, and he slid into a chair at the dining room table. “No, I don’t think so.”
That alone said so much about our friendship. I’d known Carter for fifteen years, and not once had he ever asked about my father. Not a single question. Somewhere along the road, he’d recognized that it wasn’t a subject I was comfortable talking about and he’d left it to me to broach the subject. He’d shown an enormous amount of patience.
“I don’t really know anything about him,” I said.
Carter shrugged. “I figured.”
“I mean, like nothing. No name, no location, nothing.”
He didn’t say anything, his face devoid of expression.
“Never really gave a shit, you know?” I said. “I had enough going on with Carolina. It was just the two of us, and I thought I didn’t miss what I didn’t have.”
Carter shifted in the chair and gave a slight nod.
“Figured if I ever ran into him, I’d just beat the shit out of him anyway, so it was better to not even bother.”
“Sounds about right.”
I flicked a stray bottle cap off the counter and into the sink. “So this woman shows up today
“What woman?”
“Just a woman who showed up while I was on the water.”
“Was she hot?”
I frowned at him. “Would you let me finish?”
“Okay.”
“She said she knows my father.”
He propped his elbow on the table and put his lantern-like jaw in his hand. “You believe her?” “Think so.”
“How does she know him?”
The insecurities that had plagued me for a lifetime came awake, and I couldn’t give him a completely truthful answer. “It’s complicated,” I said.
Carter didn’t miss a beat, letting me slide. “He wants to meet you?”
“Yeah. I guess that’s what it is.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Said I’d let her know.” “And I assume you’re working on that?” “All day.” I hesitated. “I have no idea what to do.” He laughed. “You asking me for advice, Noah?” “I don’t know what the hell I’m asking. But I guess I want your opinion.”
“First off, I’m not exactly a great candidate for this question,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You know how I feel about my father.”
I did. He didn’t care for him. L. Martin Hamm was a Marine who failed miserably in trying to install Marine Corps discipline in his son. He’d taken that failure personally, declared his son a waste, and moved with Carter’s mother to Florida a week after Carter had finished high school. As far as I knew, they hadn’t spoken since.
“And I’m not sure my opinion will mean anything,” he said.
“Why not?”
“I’ve never been in your situation,” he said. “Master Sergeant Hamm and I never got along, but he was always a presence when I was growing up. Like him or not, he was there. I didn’t have a choice in knowing him. You, it seems, have a choice.”
I nodded and stared out the kitchen window at the water. Choice was supposed to be a good thing, but I wasn’t buying it at the moment.
“That said, I’d think that if you believe this chick, then not meeting him might eat you up for a while,” he said. “Knowing that he really does exist.”
That exact idea had already worked me over since Darcy had announced her reasons for visiting me. “I know.”
“Nothing says you can’t beat the shit out of him when you meet him. You’re entitled.”
I figured the prison officials might see it differently, but didn’t say so.
