The Man I Love (The Fish Tales, #1)(89)
It was the loss of his necklace making him ashamed and depressed, wasn’t it?
He was more than certain Daisy didn’t have it. She would have sent it to him by now. He knew her. She would not keep something so precious, simply out of… He couldn’t even formulate a motive for keeping it. She would not have sent back his things and kept just the necklace.
She doesn’t have it.
But it’s an excuse to call her.
Just call her.
Because you can’t breathe without her.
Her number now in hand, with a need to stop the insanity and take drastic action, Erik dialed.
One ring.
Two rings.
“Hello?”
It was a man. A crossbolt of confusion went through Erik’s mind, pierced the mental sheet of paper with his scripted lines and pinned it to the opposite wall.
“Hello?” An edge of annoyance in the voice.
“Yeah, hi,” Erik said. “Is Daisy Bianco there?” I must have dialed wrong. I was nervous, I switched some digits.
“No, she’s not, can I take a message?”
Open-mouthed and stunned, Erik couldn’t think what to say. “No. I mean, yes…”
“Who is this?”
“It’s… I knew her in college, I was just calling to—”
“Erik?”
His eyes widened as his stomach turned inside-out. “Yes?”
A chuckle in the voice now. “Fish, it’s John.”
“John?”
“Quillis.”
Erik stood up, a hand to his head. “Opie?”
An exasperated sigh. “Oh for f*ck’s sake, will that name never die? Yes. Opie.”
The face, with its red hair and earnest expression, parted the fog of confusion like a ray of sunshine. “Holy shit.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“How did you know it was me?”
More low laughter. “I took a wild guess.”
“How are you?”
“Not bad, how about yourself?”
“What are you doing there?” Erik said. And then a coldness swept over his limbs.
“I live here,” John said.
“You live…”
“I live here, Fish.”
Erik’s mouth fell open. Closed. Opened again. “Oh.”
A long pause.
“Well,” John said. “This is awkward.”
“I’m sorry,” Erik said. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t.” John’s voice was friendly, but unapologetic. Authoritative. He wasn’t overtly challenging Erik. Rather he was calmly staring down a potential threat. Sizing up this new buck on the scene who wanted to fight for breeding rights.
He’s the alpha male.
“Ope, I’m sorry,” Erik whispered. “I was just…”
“It’s all right, Fish. Do you want me to give her a message?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, pulled himself together. “Daisy sent me back some of my things she had with her.“
“I know. Was everything there?”
“I’m looking for my necklace. I don’t know if you remember it but it was—“
“The gold one? With the fish and the boat? Sure, I remember it. You lost it?”
“It’s been lost since school and I thought it would be in the box but it wasn’t. It was valuable to me and I thought she wouldn’t want to send it in the mail. If she even had it, I mean. I’ve looked everywhere and this was kind of my last—”
“I gotcha. I don’t know, Fish. I haven’t seen it but then again, it’s not exactly something she’d show me.” John cleared his throat. “I’ll let her know you called and asked about it.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks.”
“You doing all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. How about you?”
“I’m good.”
A pause. Erik licked his dry lips. “How’s Daisy?”
“She’s fine,” John said. “She’s fine now. She was pretty bad for a while.”
Erik closed his eyes. “Bad how?”
“She was cutting herself, Fish.”
Erik sat down and said nothing.
“It was bad. And it’s only just started to be better for her. So I’ll let her know you called. But… I don’t want to sound like a douche or anything, but I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t make a habit of it.”
The words felt like a reprimand. A beat down. Erik’s face burned and stung. His fists curled in rage and then loosened in impotent helplessness. It was over. He was being dismissed. Stripped of his medals and drummed out of the ranks.
“You understand, right?” John said.
“I understand. Thanks, Ope. John. Sorry.”
He laughed. “You can call me Opie. It’s fine.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“You too, Fish. Bye now.”
Erik depressed the end button with his thumb and let the phone drop onto the floor. He sat. Staring. He didn’t know for how long. Then he pulled on a jacket and went out.
He walked. Hours. No destination other than a corner store to get a pack of cigarettes, his first in years. He chain smoked, one after another, leaving a trail of butts. He leaned against walls like a hoodlum. Sat on park benches like a homeless man. Tried to think.