Page 102 of Silver Player

“I…” Sadie steps back, eyes wild as they move from Kristy to me. Shaking her head, she turns away from me, allowing the stairwell door to slam behind her. “Sadie,” I call after her as she disappears into the Saturday night crowd. I glare at Clyde standing behind the bar as I pass. I’ve no doubt he let Sadie in the bar so late and then directed her to me.

“You’re fired,” I yell at him over the patrons.

“You’re going to thank me,” he yells back. As mature as I am, I flip him the bird over my shoulder as I pursue my daughter.

“Sadie!” I yell once outside as she crosses the street, and I pick up my pace. She’s a runner, and she should consider track because she’s fast. As she nears the back stairs to her apartment, she shifts around them and breaks into a full sprint along the back alley.

I follow her as best I can, but I’m short of breath and wheezing as I try to catch up to her, still yelling her name for a few blocks before she finally stops.

Holy shit, I fall forward, my hands clutching at my knees to get ahold of my breathing. If she breaks free again, I’ll never be able to keep up, but I’ll follow even if it gives me a damn heart attack.

“You’re out of shape, old man.”

“Jesus, you’re fast. What’s your time?”

She stares at me as I look up at her from my bent position. Her head tilts. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You should think about track in the spring. Cross country maybe.” I’m still huffing as I stand, the air cold around us, and she isn’t wearing more than a lightweight pullover and leggings. “Where’s your jacket?”

“Don’t play father to me,” she snaps, hands coming to her hips.

“I’m not playing anything,” I bark.

“What were you doing with that woman?” she asks, like she’s also a woman. A woman scorned.

“Kristy? She’s nobody.” Sadie’s eyes narrow at me, so similar to the way her aunt does. “We…” fooled around once. “It was…” only once. Sweet Jesus, am I supposed to justify myself to my kid? I’m not about to tell her all the things I’ve done with women, which are all the things she better never do with a boy, or anything remotely male until she’s like forty. I sigh in exasperation.

“Sadie, I…”

“Roxie is really upset.”

My head lowers.

“She’s mad at you,” Sadie huffs.

“I know.”

“I thought you two were getting along. I thought you liked each other.”

“We do.” I sigh. “As…friends.”

“Friends?” she scoffs. “Do friends kiss? Do friends spend the night? Do friends look at each other all the time?”

“Sadie, it’s…complicated.” I exhale.

“It’s called liking someone,” she snaps, glaring at me. Hands still on her hip like she’s lecturing me, and she is.

“Look, it’s more—”

“You’re right, it’s more. You’re in love with each other.”

I stare back at her. “I was going to say more complicated than liking.”

“Love is complicated.”

I stare at her, really look at my daughter; her face flushed from running, mouth stern, eyes piercing. If she had lion-red hair, she’d be my sister at sixteen. I chuckle. “How did you get so wise?”

“I told you, I know a thing or two about dating.”