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What he fails to realize is I’ve been struggling alone.
My mind has been eating me alive, moment by moment.
I grab my bag and start to head for the door, but he doesn’t step away from the frame. “I’m not doing this right now, Dad. I have to get to work, okay?”
I have to get out of here.
The last thing I want to do is have a heart-to-heart. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway.
I throw the duffel bag over my shoulder, and my father steps out of the frame of the door, allowing me to pass.
Inhaling sharply, I walk down the hallway and head downstairs.
I make it a point to avoid as many people as possible, so I b-line it for the alley out back.
The cool night air instantly puts me at ease. My heartbeat begins to slow down, and I take in a deep, calming breath.
I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want to talk to my father about it.
Since the shooting, we haven’t discussed it once.
The only person I’ve really talked to about it is Shiloh, his wife, and my stepmother.
She’s good for my dad. She’s a down-to-earth woman with a lot of personality, so she doesn’t have a problem keeping him in line.
My biggest issue with my dad is that we have the same temper, so if he believes he’s in the right, he’s not going to ever admit he’s wrong.
The longer I stay out in the cool air, the more I feel relieved.
The fresh air calms my nerves, giving me a sense of peace with it.
I’ve been around the club long enough to know that they have cameras everywhere, except in one particular part of the alley.
So, that’s where I’ve asked my co-worker to meet me.
I’m already out of the coke I bought from her the other night and need more to get me through.
I glance around the dark alleyway, searching for any sort of movement.
Someone whistles to my left, and I head over. “Precious?” I call out lowly.
There’s barely any light in this part, so it’s a little sketchy being here at night.
Sure as shit, heels click against the pavement. “Jesus, I hate meeting you in alleys like this. Who knows what the fuck could happen.”
She has a point, but I’m desperate.
I dig into my pocket and pull out cash, counting two hundred.
Precious narrows her eyes and gently tells me her prices are different today. “You made me come and meet you, so it’s two-sixty.”
I raise both of my brows. “You’re charging me ten bucks over what everyone else pays?”
Without thinking twice, she replies, “Uh, yeah. You had me come out and meet you next to some sleazy biker club. What do you think?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not a sleazy club. You’re safe here.”
Precious laughs. “Yeah, coming from the woman who was shot a couple months ago. Like I believe you, I mean, come on.”
