Page 59 of Sweeper
“How close?” Knight asks, his brows furrowed curiously.
“Like she went to Vaughn Harris’s house yesterday for Sunday dinner with the whole family.”
“Holy shit,” Link replies with wide eyes. “That’s definitely close.”
I nod and wipe the sweat dripping down my forehead. “Which gave me an idea.”
“Oh?” Link and Knight both look at me with renewed interest.
“Well, that DNA guy who called me Saturday said that paternal hair follicles have the highest chance of accuracy on their tests. And I was thinking maybe if I could get Daphney to bring me along to one of those Sunday dinners, I could stumble into the wrong bathroom and get what I need.”
“You want to go to Vaughn—” Link winces when I shush him loudly. He lowers his voice. “You want to go to the home of ‘he who shall not be named,’ slip into his bathroom, and take a lock of his hair?”
I shrug. “Seems like I’d have a better chance of scoring hair there than trying to sneak something out of his office.”
“What if you get caught?” Knight asks, his eyes grave. “This is the manager of our club.”
“You guys weren’t worried about me getting caught when I was running around the locker room trying to get Tanner’s gum out of the garbage. This idea seems way more sane than that. I’ll be alone in a bathroom. There’s no way I’ll get busted.”
Link interjects next, “Does fishing for an invite from Daphney indicate casual? What if you send her mixed signals?”
“We’re friends-ish.” I shrug again.
Link hits me with a dubious look. “Does she think that?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll take her out sometime this week. To dinner or something that doesn’t involve sex. Lay down a foundation that exists beyond my bedroom. Maybe one of those double-decker bus tours would be a nice gesture.”
“That doesn’t sound casual. That sounds like a relationship,” Link coos.
“Whose fucking side are you on?” I snap, surprised at my temper but also really annoyed these guys aren’t supporting me on this. It was their stupid idea for me to get DNA in the first place. Now they have cold feet? Fuck that.
Link holds his pruney hands up out of the water. “Yours, my dude. Chill out.”
I scrub a hand through my hair, annoyance prickling my veins. “I just want to get this fucking thing done. I don’t like leaving things open like this. I trained good today, and I want to keep it that way, which means I need to focus on this plan and finish what I’ve started.”
“Alright then.” Link nods in solidarity. “I’m here for you, man.”
I look over at Knight, who is definitely not the picture of support. “Just be careful,” he says, hitting me with a weighty look. “It’s one thing to play soccer with a few members of the Harris family. It might be another to share an entire meal with their wives and kids.”
I shake my head and turn my treadmill speed back up, effectively ending this discussion. This isn’t a bad idea. This is a good idea. And the more I think about it all, the more I expect I’m going to discover that Vaughn Harris isn’t my father. It’s probably why my mom never sent that letter in the first place. I know who my dad is. I just need to finish this stupid plan to confirm that fact so I can move on with my life.
I lower the speed on my treadmill again and pull out my phone to shoot Daphney a text.
Me: What’s your schedule like this week?
Daphney: Madness, yours?
Me: I want to do one of those double-decker bus tours.
Daphney: Are you taking the piss?
Me: I am a man of many talents, but pissing and texting isn’t one of them.
Daphney: Siiigh. Taking the piss means having me on. Messing or joking with me.
Me: They didn’t cover that in in Bridget Jones’s Diary. I'm on the second book, though, so maybe it's coming still.
Daphney: You’re reading those fast!
