Page 146 of All Twerk, No Play

When the waitress left the table, I asked Arthur, “Does she know you’re here?”

The vinyl seat groaned under his weight shifting. He didn’t answer, staring at his manicured hands. His wedding ring clinked against the ceramic coffee mug. My gut clenched tighter but I didn’t want to give away my anxiety. I leaned back as if I didn’t give a shit why he was there.

“My daughter … " His nostrils flared as he glanced around the restaurant, full of hungover college students, truck drivers mainlining coffee, and camo-clad Navy staff coming off the overnight shift. “She made an impulsive mistake this week.” He lifted those gray eyes, like I’d also been animpulsive mistake. “The blowback will damage her career. And the media will realize your connection to her.”

My pulse quickened. I’d been careful in all my videos to not use her name. What had she done that would connect us?

I leaned closer, dropping my voice to a harsh whisper. “Arthur, is she safe?”

The color drained from his face. “She’s unharmed.”

i fucking hated that answer. The waitress returned with our meals, but I ignored the plate. I hadn’t been hungry in weeks—and I needed answers. “Cut the shit, Arthur. Why are you here?”

“When the reporters call, you need to say you don’t know her.”

A knot formed in my throat, and I swallowed it down with a swig of scalding coffee. “Why would I tell them that I don’t know my own girlfriend?”

“She’s not your girlfriend.”

“Sure, by a strict interpretation,” I said, then threw him a suggestive grin, “but when it comes to your daughter, I like to play things loose.”

He scowled. “You’re just as stubborn as she is.”

“Where do you think I learned it?” I loosened my posture, stretched across the booth. “What' the harm with people knowing that I love her?”

“Right, that’s why you’re doing it. Not to piggyback on her name to make a quick buck.” The accusation was a verbal punch to my sternum. No self-defense training can prepare you for an attack on your integrity.

“Call her now. See if she answers herboyfriend,” he said, pulling a folded document out of his suit pocket. “Or we can come to an agreement, to keep her reputation in tact.”

He’d flattened the paper in the table, and I grimaced at its familiarity: a non-disclosure agreement, because associating with me would ruin her pristine reputation. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him to fuck right off, but the words died in my throat when he reached into that pocket again. “How much, Eric?”

I blinked as he retrieved a checkbook, then sneered, “My silence isn’t for sale.”

“Everything is for sale, for the right price,” he said, tapping a black and gold pen against the checkbook cover. “A million?”

I hardened my gaze to hide my surprise. “I don’t want your money.”

“Two million. You can tell people you were her personal trainer, but no more of this boyfriend nonsense.”

I opened my mouth to shut him up, but stopped myself. I could do so much with two million dollars—hell, even more if I sold her condo. I could find my own place to escape her lingering memories, or buy a three or four bedroom in Queens for my family so I could always go home.

I could fund my own album, not worry about paying back the record company advance. I could create music on my own terms, pay my sister to manage everything. I could quit my superintendent job to play music that I loved.

Across the booth, I scrutinized Arthur’s custom suit, shiny cufflinks, perfect hair. This money would change my entire life and he wouldn’t notice it was missing.

He tapped his pen on the leather checkbook cover. “And stop making the videos, they’re affecting her performance.”

I tightened my jaw. So Connor’s messages had been true—shewaswatching.

And it was making an impact … enough for her Dad to notice. Enough for it to bother him. Hope bloomed in my chest.

Yet she didn’t call.

“If you care about my daughter at all, you’ll take this deal. And you won’t contact her again. You’ll let her move on.” His eyes shimmered, confident he had me over the barrel. I drummed my fingernails against the table. His jaw ticked in annoyance at their rhythm.

I’m sorry I can’t be what you need, she’d said when she left me. Is this the best I could expect?

The paper between us was the same one she’d showed me three months ago. I’d been willing to sign it then for her. It started to look less like a gag order …

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