He at least had the decency to turn green then.  “My God,” he whispered.

“I can see where that would be a problem, knocking up so many women that you can’t keep track of your offspring.  And by the way, Bronson, you are way too old for me.  Even if I wasn’t your daughter.”  I made a face.  “That’s just gross.  If you’re going to be a philandering pig, at least be more age appropriate about it.  Especially with all of the random women you must have gotten pregnant over the years.  Maybe stay away from women that are young enough to be your daughters, or hell, your granddaughters.”

“My God,” he said again.  “Do you want money from me or something?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” I told him furiously, my voice low and mean.  “Not one thing.  I manage this gallery.  You are the one that came up to me, or did you not realize that?”

He blinked a few times, turned on his heel and strode away.

Dermot, who’d been about a dozen feet away for the whole thing, sent me one probing glance and followed him.

I thought that was the end of it, but about an hour later, Dermot was back.

He sought me out, waiting while I handled a sale.  He smiled and held out his hand when I was free.  “I’m Dermot,” he said warmly.

I smiled tentatively back, shaking his hand.  “Danika.”

“I just wanted to apologize for my father.  He’s…a throwback, and it looked like he came on a little strong back there.”

I studied him.  “I’m not sure why you’re apologizing.  You didn’t do anything.”

“I just didn’t want you to think I was like him.  He’s my father, but I’ve known since I was a kid that he’s a creep when it comes to women.”

I nodded.  That he was, and I didn’t know what to say about it.

“Listen, this is an embarrassing way to meet, but I’d love to make it up to you sometime.  How does dinner sound?”

I made an effort not to smack my own forehead.

Seriously?!  What the fuck did I do to deserve this?

I realized then and there that I had to tell him, had to bite the awkward bullet and just get it out.  “The fact that your father is old and married isn’t the only thing that offended me about his come-on,” I told him, my tone matter of fact.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, smiling like I was about to tell him some funny joke.

Oh yeah, it was a real hoot.

“Bronson Giles is my biological father.”

His eyes widened comically, his mouth dropping open.

“I have no proof, though if I needed it, his reaction to me telling him who my mother is would have been enough.  But if you don’t believe me—“

“No, no, I do.  I just-I-I-I’m shocked.  I am so sorry.  I wasn’t hitting on you.  I meant like a platonic dinner.”

He hadn’t, but I grasped onto that lame ass excuse just as strongly as he did.  “Of course.  I didn’t think you were.”

In spite of that less than promising beginning, we did sort of hit it off after that.

“I like women as much as the next guy,” Dermot told me over dinner, maybe the fourth time we’d met to catch up.  “But if you can’t keep it in your pants, the least you can do is just stay single.”

“Here, here,” I said, toasting him.  He was preaching to the choir.

“And seriously, he’s how old, and somehow never managed to grasp the concept of birth control?”  He winced as he heard his own words.  “No offense to you.”

I laughed.  “None taken.  I mean, I’m glad I exist, but I could’ve wished for a different father, say, one that was present.”

“How’s Dahlia doing?  And how’s her boy?”

I launched into a story about darling Jack.

We always asked about the other siblings.  We kept track, though no one seemed to have any urge to meet up face to face besides he and I.  Dahlia had some weird resentment for our half-siblings, a bitterness for them that I couldn’t fathom, considering she’d wanted to have more of a relationship with our father.  He was the one to blame.  He was the culprit.  I could well understand a contempt for him and the things he’d done, but our half-siblings were no more to blame for his actions than we were.  Still, there was no talking her out of it.

It was her loss.  Dermot was delightful, sarcastic, and fun.  We’d decided early on that we’d gotten the same twisted sense of humor.

It was several meetings before he worked up the nerve to ask about what happened to my leg.

“The relationship from hell,” I answered.

This one time he didn’t share the joke with me.  His face shut down, and for the first time I saw that my half-brother could be a bit scary.  “Some man did that to you?”

I shook my head vehemently.  “Bad joke.  Sorry.  No.  It’s a long story, but the short version is that this happened in a car accident.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he did let me change the subject.  It had to be easy to catch on that this wasn’t my favorite topic.

“How’s work going?  Did you get that part you were auditioning for?” I asked him.

“I did.  I start shooting next month.  Also, I agreed to do a project with our dad.”

My eyebrows shot straight up.  He’d always been vehement about the fact that he didn’t want to ride his father’s coattails to success.  He’d never used his connections to get ahead in Hollywood.  Until now, that is.

“Hey now, don’t judge me,” he said with an irrepressible smile.

“What?  I didn’t say a thing.”

“You didn’t have to.  You have very judgey eyes.”  I laughed, because he’d gotten it right.  I did have expressive eyes.  “The fact is, the part is a dream, and I do think I’m perfect for it.  I auditioned, and I think I would have gotten the part, regardless of who my father is, just based on that audition.  I’d rather he weren’t part of the project, but that’s not up to me.”

“You don’t have to be defensive with me.  I’m happy for you, and I’m excited to see how it turns out.”

“You still seeing that girl?” I asked, changing the subject again.  He’d been really into some chick he’d just started dating the last time we’d talked.

He grimaced.  “Nah, that’s done.  I told you she was an actress, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, I learned something.  Never date an actress.  She was sleeping with the director of her TV pilot.  The casting couch stereotype comes from something, I guess.”

“That sucks.  How did her pilot do?”

He grinned.  “Bombed, so there’s that.  I wouldn’t have hard feelings, but she was lying to me for a while before I caught on.  Now what about you?  You seeing anybody?  Did you go on a second date with that accountant?”

I made a face that got him to laugh.  “I didn’t.  I’m very good on a first date, but I can’t vouch for my second date skills.  I can’t recall if I’ve ever been on one.”

We both laughed, though it wasn’t far from the truth.

“Well, I know they all call.  Why don’t you pick up the phone?”

“This is going to sound awful, but I just don’t feel like it.  I’ll go out to dinner once, but if I don’t enjoy myself much, why try again?  I like my own company just fine.  I suspect that I’m just one of those people that’s destined to stay single.  It’s fine.  There are worse things than being alone.”

He waved that off.  “You’re just young.  You’ll grow out of it in a few years.  Or maybe you just need to find the right guy.”

I didn’t tell him that I had found that guy, once.

I had no desire to talk about any of the T words.


TRISTAN

I’d been torn apart and put back together, and though I knew the end result was better now than who I’d been before, some days it didn’t feel that way.  Lots of days, it just felt like like the world had lost its color, and the only things that defined my life were the things I’d lost.  I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I was okay without her, and some days I even believed it.

It was well over a year before I could admit that she was lost to me, and that was with almost no contact at all.

James hired me on to do a show, far sooner than planned.  He reasoned that it would take time to rehearse and to help get the theatre together.  I had to immerse myself in the entire process, every bit of it.  It was my baby after all.  The theatre had to be completely renovated.  He wanted me to go live within a week of his current act retiring, and it would take a year for me to prep.

It was a Godsend for me.  I kept busy, productive, active.  There was less time to dwell on the past.

The casino’s retiring magician, Tony Biello, had no hard feelings about me being his replacement.  In fact, he turned out to be something of a father figure and a mentor for me.

I’d admired his act since I was a kid, so when he started coming by the theatre to see how things were coming along, I was more star struck than I’d ever been and stressed out to boot, since I had no clue whether his retirement was voluntary.

He quickly set my mind at ease.  He was a strange old coot that wore a top hat in the middle of the day and large white framed glasses that matched his wiry hair.

He was a large man, and in his seventies was heading in the direction of overweight.

I was on my semi-built stage, showing the architect I’d been working with just what I needed for the spot directly below our feet, when Tony came striding into the theatre.

He took one look at me and started laughing.  “Let me guess.  This is going to be some sort of act where they make you take your shirt off a lot.  No doubt about it, I’ve been outclassed.”

My mouth quirked up in a grin, and I hopped down to shake his hand.

“I made them put it in my contract that I wouldn’t go shirtless more than twice a night,” I joked.  “Had to put my foot down somewhere.”

He clutched his big belly while he laughed.  “And you can take a joke.  Outclassed indeed.”

I scratched my head, trying to find the words to broach an awkward subject.

“Don’t worry, my boy, my retirement was voluntary.  I’m old, I have a bad heart, and it’s time I started taking better care of myself.  I’ve just come to welcome you to the team, and to let you know that my door is always open, if you need any advice.  Hell, I’d love to help.  I’ve been in the magic game for fifty years.  I’d hate to think I was letting go of it completely.

I was inordinately pleased by this.  Tony Biello offering his support was all that I, who’d been practicing tricks from the first time I’d gotten my hands on a deck of cards, could ever want.  It was a surreal, dream come true kind of moment.  “Thank you.  I’ve been a fan of yours since I was a kid.  That means a lot to me.  I’m sure I’ll be taking you up on that.  Also, I wonder if you could make some guest appearances, if you’re up for it.”

He grinned his jolly grin.  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

He came by almost every day after that, watching the work being done, giving advice, and asking a million questions about the show I was planning.

I tried to stay busy twenty-four seven, but unfortunately, there was always downtime, while I waited for contractors to show up, or found myself at loose ends.  Still, I avoided downtime like the plague.

Of course, the time that I did spend dwelling was more agonizing than ever now that we worked in the same damned building.

The art gallery was made of glass, placed high above the ground of the casino floor, designed to be a piece of art itself.  Watching someone inside of it and not letting them know that you were watching them, well, it couldn’t have been more perfectly designed for just that.

There was a small indoor courtyard there, just some tables and chairs attached to a coffee shop.  It was set below and at an angle to the glass gallery.  I could sit there and stare for as long as I wanted, and she never saw, never took notice.

I did this a lot.

This was pure masochism, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

Every break I had, every time I came or went I stopped at that little spot.  I’d grab food from somewhere else and bring it there.  I put in time at that torturous little spot.

This was all particularly unfortunate when she started seeing some motherfucker in a suit.

He must have worked in the building somewhere, because he started showing up often to take her to lunch.

It took every ounce of self-control, every minute of anger management and therapy I’d participated in, to keep from going up there and wringing his neck the first time I saw him wrap his arm around her waist, but I did it.