Fuck. Rico.
I end the call and throw the phone onto the floorboard, not caring if it breaks. The sound of the caller’s voice echoes in my head, and I grip the wheel harder.
This is not what I need right now. Or ever.
My throat constricts. Why is my life such a fucking mess? The little disasters keep piling on and piling on and I’m not sure how much more I can take.
Focusing on the road, I drive as fast as I dare to the Abbott compound, even though the last thing I need right now is another run-in with a cop. Guess I’ll take my chances.
When I get to the house, the car’s barely in park before I run up to the door. Charlie meets me there. “Tell me,” I pant out breathlessly. “And where’s Livvie?”
“Shh, she’s fine. She’s at school,” Charlie says. “I haven’t told her he’s back yet.”
“Where is he?”
My sister’s eyes flick from side to side, as if someone might be lurking on our property eavesdropping. She ushers me into the house and locks the door, keeping her voice low.
“About a half an hour ago, some car drove up and rolled him out of the back. A black car, I don’t know what kind, I was in the front room with my paints.”
“Is he injured?” I ask, whispering.
Charlie shakes her head. “I don’t know. He had a piece of paper pinned to his shirt with a very high number written on it. One million.”
“Dollars?” I gasp. “Fuck. What did he do this time?”
“I don’t know. He’s not talking. Maybe you can get something out of him. He’s either been on a serious bender or else they drugged him, because he can’t seem to focus. I brought water and saltines to him in the den, but he might be passed out again.”
We tiptoe down the hallway and peek into the den. I’m expecting to see Dad asleep on the couch, or maybe the floor. What I’mnotexpecting to see is him perched on the edge of the ottoman with one of our grandmother’s big antique vases in his hands, staring into it bleakly with his mouth open.
“Dad, no!”
I run toward him, but it’s too late. He retches into the vase, his fingers gripping the sides as he heaves.
“Fuck, Dad,” Charlie says. “That’s the one with a crack in it.”
Yes, it is. And now it’s leaking onto both him and the floor.
“I’ll get a towel and some cleaner,” I tell my sister.
She sighs. “God, this is like senior prom all over again.”
“And Livvie’s fifteenth birthday party,” I add.
“And that time we—”
Dad heaves again and reaches a hand out as if he’s trying to swat at us. I dart into the kitchen and grab a few dish towels, another bottle of water, and some Lysol. When I get back, Dad is wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Iss gonna be okay,” he tells us, slurring his words. “We’ll juss…sell off the rest of the horses.”
Livvie’s horses? Oh,hell no. That is it. I am DONE with the men in my life.
I drop the supplies in my arms, march over to him, and drag him down by the front of his shirt until he’s on the floor on one knee. His eyes flash with anger as he tries to grab me.
“Dad—” Charlie starts.
“Lemme go,” he mumbles.
I slap him. Hard, across the face. The sound of it reverberates through the room, the sting of it jolting through my palm and up my arm, straight to my heart.
