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Oh boy, he really has no idea. I nearly laugh. Truth is, Jake, I was diddling my doo-dah to the image of you when my dad interrupted.
My face turns beet red just thinking about it. “Ha. Yeah, no. I… Well, let’s just say it was interesting. But I was not with someone.”
“Interesting? That sounds like something I need to hear.”
“No,” I say vehemently. “You don’t.” I will die before I share with him the true happenings of last night.
Death would be much more enjoyable.
“Oh, come on, Holley. You’re privy to all the details of my life. I’m not allowed to know a few of yours?” he points out with a pout.
My stomach roils, but I hold strong. I cannot tell him about last night. Cannot. I’ll never survive it. Once I find a safe and legal way to sign my father up for a lobotomy, I’m taking this sordid tale to the fucking grave.
“No way, Jose. At least, not this detail. You’ll have to pick something else.”
My phone chimes on the table, but before I can pick it up, Jake reaches down and pulls it into his hands, his eyes already scanning the notification. “Uh…that’s my—”
“Oh shit, this isn’t mine,” he mutters and swiftly hands the phone back to me with apologetic eyes. “You…uh…have the same text chime as me.”
Considering we both have the same generation iPhone with eerily similar black cases, I can’t exactly be angry at him, but when I check the screen and see the text preview, instant humiliation blazes to a wildfire inside my veins.Dad: I’ve seen turkeys doing it before. Kinda funny-looking, if you ask me. All those feathers.Holy hell! I nearly faint.
If it weren’t already apparent, my father is the worst kind of text message wild card.
“I’m really sorry for reading your text, Holley. I honestly thought it was my phone.” Jake’s voice begs my eyes to meet his. “I’m not the type of shithead who intentionally disrespects people’s privacy and personal boundaries.”
Unbidden and unwelcome, a memory of Raleigh reading my emails pops into my mind.
If there was ever a man who would purposefully steamroll over my privacy and personal space, it was him. Which, considering he hid an affair from me for over a year, it was the true culmination of hypocritical and irony combined.
“It’s okay,” I mutter, straddling the line of being completely triggered by my past and unsure of what to say.
“And, uh, your dad…well…he sounds like a real riot…” Jake pauses, his teeth digging into his bottom lip in a half-assed attempt to fight his threatening smile. “You know, if you want to share any more text messages from your dear old dad, I’d be more than willing to lend a listening ear.”
Emotional overload engaged, my entire being is on the brink of spontaneously combusting right in the middle of this coffee shop.
I wonder if they’ll still be able to spread the ashes if they don’t get them from an official crematorium? I’d like to be on a mountaintop. With a view. Maybe by a lake.
My phone chimes again, and I look down to see two more ridiculous messages.Dad: Deer are horny little bastards too. They chase their women around and slam as many of them as they can.Dad: It’s nature, you know? Natural. Nothing to think about.“Oh my God,” I whisper, horrified. “Why? Why is this happening to me?”
Jake, ever helpful, takes a sip of his coffee and folds his newspaper on the table. One of my past articles about a local homeless shelter is right on top. I ignore it, though. I have to. My whole entire system is already about to experience a catastrophic failure due to stimulus overload.
“I think I’d like to meet your dad sometime.”
“Stop,” I chastise, trying to silence my phone as yet another message comes in.Dad: Maybe try it with someone else, though? Can’t make grandkids like that, you know. I’d love a couple little buggers running around here someday.“What?” Jake questions. “He seems like an interesting guy is all.”
I cringe at just how fucking interesting—more like, insane—ole Phil Fields is at the present moment. “You have no idea what’s going on.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But since you won’t tell me, and I already accidentally got a teensy taste of what’s going down over there, I’ve made up a story in my head, and man, it’s good.” He flashes a stupid, sexy smirk. “A real page-turner.”
“You’re officially the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t believe that. If that were the case, you’d already be gone.”
“I have to be here for work.”
He scoffs. “If I were the worst person in the world, I would hope you wouldn’t stick around because of some articles you don’t even want to write anyway.” He pauses to consider me. “Why is that, by the way? I’m sensing something in your past we should talk about.”
