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“Ms. King here says that she needs to speak with you and that you would probably be expecting her?”
“Really? Does this look like a good time to you to bring in a fan?” My dad continues.
Keaton steps out from behind Rick at that moment, chuckling softly with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets. “Oh, I’m not a fan.”
I know I should probably take that as an insult, but I can’t help the smirk that pulls at the corner of my lips.
“This, as Rick already stated, is Ms. King,” I say, sweeping my hand in her direction. “I informed Rick a few days ago that she may reach out,” I explained to my dad before he can make an even bigger ass of himself, though it was tempting to let him.
His eyebrows climb his face as realization sets in. “This is the young lady from the accident?”
“Yes,” I answer, watching as his expression morphs into the slimy businessman I know him to be.
“Miss, please understand this does not have to do with Kane’s Racing and should not reflect on us as a business. This entire matter falls to Bodhi and his lack of character.”
My head whips in my dad’s direction, stunned over the fact that this man has the audacity to call me out for my character, and in front of a total stranger no less.
“Dad,” I hiss in an attempt to interject, but he continues to talk over me.
“Bodhi will take care of any and all expenses related to the accident, so you can go ahead and be on your way. Just leave your information with Rick here.”
“I’ve already reached out to Ms. King, and she declined my offer to pay for damages,” I inform him.
“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” Keaton says, and I can see in the tight set of her jaw just how hard that was for her to admit. She definitely doesn’t strike me as the type to accept handouts.
“If you aren’t accepting his offer to help, I don’t understand what you’re here for, but we’d really appreciate it if this matter stayed between us and ask that you keep the press out of this.”
“What?” she and I both say in unison.
“An accident like this would look very bad for us.”
He means it would look bad for him.
“Look, I just wanted to say that I am willing to accept your offer after all. I misplaced the card you gave me and didn’t know how to reach out to you other than to come here, and I didn’t want to just show up at Milo’s.”
“Milo?” My dad questions.
“Yes, Milo.”
“Bodhi, explain.”
My dad never did like Milo, and it’s not that Milo ever did anything worthy of his disdain, but we ran in the same crowd. So as far as my dad was concerned, Milo was trouble and would only ever bring me down.
“His shop is closer to her location. She’s from Sancte Alto — midtown area, if I recall correctly — and I trust him to complete her work without ripping either of us off.”
“Sancte Alto? Midtown? Why were you there?”he asks, a look of disgust curling the corners of his lips.
“He wasn’t, I was on the south side,” Keaton interjects, and I cringe.
This just got a hundred times worse.
My dad stops and scrutinizes her as she stands there before us. She shifts from foot to foot, glancing in my direction when he remains silent. And I see it, the moment he realizes his suspicions were correct. His wide eyes turn and land on me, that glacial blue stare boring into me, nostrils flaring in anger as he holds back everything he would love to say to me right now. He won’t though, not in front of Keaton; it might make him look bad, and by extension, his precious business.
Seething, he shakes his head from side to side.
“Jesus, Bodhi,” he hisses under his breath before turning to face Keaton again.“He’ll write you a check, but you need to leave. We have work to do.”
“What?” Keaton’s head snaps back as if my dad reached out and physically smacked her.
