Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick, #7)

I decided to explain.

“You have two choices. One, you stay the way you became after Mickey Balducci murdered Mom and that means we go our separate ways. I won’t be a party to that kind of relationship with my father. Or two,” I stopped, went to the vinyl couch where my bag was, I pulled out a large photograph, a duplicate of the picture I took from Mom’s storage locker (the original now residing in some boxes in Hector’s spare room, waiting for the downstairs to be finished). I turned back to my father, walked to him, closer this time, the picture turned to face him. “We can go back to this. A family. Even without Mom with us.” I shoved the photo at him and his eyes didn’t move from it. “Take it,” I said. “I’m allowed to give it to you.”

Slowly, his eyes moved from the picture to me.

I took a stunned step back at what I saw.

Pain.

Utter, devastated, unhidden pain.

What was in his face sliced deep through me so deep I whispered an uncertain, “Daddy?”

“Where’d you find that?” he whispered back.

“One of Hector’s friends found Mom’s stuff.”

He wasn’t listening, his eyes were fastened at my neck and I watched in horror as the color drained out of his face.

All of a sudden, he tore his eyes from my throat, walked by me without looking at me to the window where he stopped.

His back to me, he stared out the glass

Then he said, “Get out.”

My body jerked as if he struck me.

“What?”

“I know what you’re doing Sadie. It’s clear you’re here with Chavez, with those things, to get a piece of me. Take it, cherish it and get the fuck out.”

I stood, stunned immobile for a second then my heart started beating, my blood started pumping and I stomped to the table in the room, put the photo on it and stomped to the window, right in front of my father.

“I will not get out,” I snapped.

His eyes didn’t move but he put his hands in his pants pockets and stared over my head.

“Look at me,” I demanded.

He didn’t look. It was like I didn’t exist.

I shoved his shoulders with both hands and yelled, “Dad! Look at me!”

Only his cold eyes tilted so he could look down his nose at me.

“I know everything. Everything,” I told him and he just kept looking down his nose at me so I repeated, “I know everything about you.”

I watched his lip curl before he said, “You don’t know shit.”

“I know you loved her,” I shot back. “I know your parents weren’t nice to you. I know she loved you too. I know that you were her world. I know you were mine too, once, before she went away. I know you fed me in the night when I was a baby –”

“Shut up, Sadie.”

“I know if I hurt myself, I went to you –”

“Sadie, shut up!”

“I know when I got up all sleepy, if you were home, I’d go directly to you –”

His hands shot out of his pockets, grabbed onto my arms and shook me hard as he shouted, “Shut up!”

“I will not shut up and I will not get out!” I screamed in his face. “Decades ago, I had a father! I want him back!”

He shoved me away, I went back two feet, righted my involuntary retreat and advanced again, grabbing onto his shirt with both fists and shaking.

“You used to kiss my head and tuck me into bed –”

His hands wrapped around my wrists and he pulled but I held on tight.

“Why’d you leave me? Once she was gone, I needed you!”

His body went still and his chin tipped down so he could look at me.

“You didn’t need me,” he said.

“I did,” I returned.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did!” I screamed.

“I killed her.”

It was my body’s turn to go still.

“What?”

“I didn’t pull the trigger but what I did put her in that position so I might as well have been the one to blow her head off.”

His words cut through me and I closed my eyes tight.

“That’s what he did, Sadie, Mickey blew a hole in her head.”

“Quiet,” I whispered.

He got close, his mouth came to my ear and he whispered, “Before I did the same to him, I made him take me to her. Bernie and I got her body –”

“Please, don’t.”

“We paid heavy to have her put in a marble tomb –”

“Don’t.”

“Pink marble, her favorite color.”

“Stop it.”

He kept whispering in my ear. “Even now, when I’m in here, I know that gardenias are placed on the steps of that tomb every Sunday afternoon.”

I couldn’t help it. The fight went out of me, I let go of his shirt and fell into him, my arms wrapping around his waist. The tears were heavy in my throat, sliding down my face, I heard my own choking sobs but he didn’t put his arms around me, he didn’t hold me.

“But I wasn’t done, was I?” he asked softly.

I tilted my head back and stared at his blurry face.

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