I walk up my drive and palm my phone, keying in the code for my door so it’s unlocked by the time I reach it. This definitely wasn’t how I thought tonight was going to end. I’m glad I managed a little alone time with Lily. And at least I have tomorrow.
I’m on high alert the second I walk into the house. The TV’s on in the living room, and there’s a body on my couch, shoes hanging off the end. Beer bottles and a half liter of vodka litter my coffee table. One of the bottles has tipped over, and beer drips onto the floor. I’m definitely not in the mood for this. The body on my couch groans and pushes to a sitting position.
It’s like I’ve stepped into a time machine and I’m looking at a much less fit, older version of myself. Without tattoos. Randall Ballistic Senior is crashed out on my couch.
“How’d you get in here?” It’s not a friendly greeting, but I don’t like my dad much.
“I tried the code from your New York place. Nice pad, kiddo. They’re paying you better than they did me.” He’s slurry drunk.
I don’t mention that I’m a better player than he was. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
He ignores the indirect question. “You’re comin’ home late.” He pushes up and tries to stand, but ends up falling back down on his ass.
I stuff my hands in my pockets. Now I wish I’d gotten an invite to stay at Waters’. “I was at a party.”
“And no bunny? You losing your touch?”
“It wasn’t that kind of party.”
“It’s always that kind of party.” He picks up a bottle from the table and checks to see if there’s anything left.
I go to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and a rag to clean up the mess he’s made. It’s the story of my dad’s life. He’s a loser in every sense of the word. Returning to the living room, I mop up the spilled beer and set the water on the table.
He picks up the glass and frowns. “Where’s the booze?”
“I don’t think you need it.” I collect the empty bottles. “Look, you’re welcome to stay the night and sleep it off, but I’ve got plans tomorrow night, so you gotta be gone in the morning.”
“I haven’t seen you in six months, and that’s how you treat your dad? Don’t be so damn disrespectful.”
“It’s one in the morning, and I find you lying on my couch, messing up my house, and you’re talking at me about disrespect?”
“I need a place to crash for a couple days. I gotta lay low. Got some business I need to take care of before I head home.”
“You’re still in Boston?”
“I’m between places right now.”
I run a hand through my hair. “So by a couple of days you mean what exactly?”
“A week, maybe two, tops.”
I definitely don’t want my dad here for the next week, let alone two, but he’s hammered, so discussing it now is pointless. I’d set him up in a hotel, but the last time I did that he racked up a two-thousand-dollar room service bill. Half of it was porn. It’s not that I don’t have the money to pay for it, it’s the goddamn principle. And he’s generally a dick.
“Right. We’ll talk about it in the morning. I gotta crash. I’ve got a workout at ten.” That’s a lie, but talking to my dad in this state isn’t productive. It’s not that useful when he’s sober, either. Looks like the rest of my weekend has gone to shit.
Chapter 12
Fluttery Eyed Fear
LILY
At one-thirty in the morning, I’m back in my room at Alex’s huge, nice house. Alone. Violet’s hives have finally subsided after a boatload of Benadryl, and everyone else has gone to bed. Probably to have awesome sex. I bet even Violet and Alex are having sex, though she still has a few welts on her face. I’d hate to be that stressed out over getting married.
I change into a pair of tights with a hole in the crotch and one of my T-shirts from high school. They still fit exactly the same since I haven’t grown even a little bit since then—not anywhere. I don’t have to pull down the sheets because they’re already messed up from earlier.
I still can’t believe I did that. Well, I can. It was part of my plan, but not quite so early in the evening. I figured it’d be later, like now. I step on something gushy and shriek. Jumping back, I discover the used condom.
“So gross,” I mutter to myself. At least he had the courtesy to tie it in a knot so the jizz didn’t ooze out and end up between my toes. I snap a picture of it beside my foot and send it to him with a frowny face. I don’t get anything back right away, which is kind of a disappointment.
I toss my phone on the bed and rummage through my bag, looking for face wash. I do the nightly routine, still bitter that everyone is getting action now but me. I leave the light on in the bathroom and pull the door mostly closed, leaving a sliver of illumination to guide me to bed. Of course I step on the stupid condom again.