Page 141 of Spring Break Fling

“If you’ve come to insult me, you might want to think twice about that. People that owe me money don’t get a lot of leeway.”

“I don’t owe you a fucking dime.” I pulled a fat wad of cash from my pocket and dropped it on his desk. “But my father does. Ten grand. Plus a little extra. Zip’s debt is cleared.”

Braggs raised an eyebrow, then reached for the stack, thumbing through the bills like he was flipping pages in a novel. “Well, damn. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Yes, you are,” he said.

“Now leave me out of any future debt collecting,” I said. “If your dogs come hassling me again, I’ll send them away with more than bruises. Got it?”

He nodded, even though he seemed unbothered by my threat. “You know, it’s nothing personal. It’s the principle. People owe me money and they have to pay.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t want my dad owing you money, quit fucking giving it to him. I’m not bailing that deadbeat out again. Don’t come knocking on my door.”

He chuckled again. “You paying up like this?” He leaned back, holding the cash up like a trophy. “We’re square. No more visits, no more calls. You’re clean.”

“Good,” I said, extending my hand. “Keep it that way.”

Braggs shook it, his grip firm but not hostile. “You got balls, kid. Tell your old man he could learn a thing or two.”

“Don’t worry. I’m about to. Although I doubt we can teach that old dog new tricks.”

I walked out of the warehouse and climbed back on my bike. Braggs was a businessman above all else and I was confident he would honor his word. If he didn’t, the gloves would come off and I would remind him I wasn’t a pushover like my father.

I drove back out to the old man’s house. I hated it here. I hated everything it represented. It was nothing but bad memories and the source of some serious childhood trauma. A bit of adult trauma too.

I knocked on the door but didn’t get a response. That wasn’t a surprise. No one that lived or crashed here would be up before noon. As expected, the front door wasn’t locked. That always made me curious. He had people that wanted him dead, and he didn’t even bother locking the front door. I supposed if someone really wanted him dead, a locked door wasn’t going to stop them.

I found Zip where I expected him: passed out on the couch, surrounded by beer cans and stale regret. I shook his shoulder. “Pop!”

He came to with a grunt, his eyes bloodshot and defensive. “What the hell do you want?” he muttered, rubbing his face.

“Get up. We’re talking.”

“Talking? You woke me up for a chat?”

“Yes, get up.”

“Fuck off. I’m sleeping.”

“Get up, asshole,” I said. “I’ll be outside waiting. It stinks in here.”

He grumbled but followed me to the porch, where the air was marginally fresher.

“I paid off your debt,” I said, leaning against the railing. “It’s done. Braggs is out of your life.”

He snorted. “Congratulations, kid. You want a medal?”

“No. I want you to know this is it. That was the last time I’m bailing you out.”

He squinted at me, trying to gauge if I was serious.

“I’m making a life for myself,” I continued. “A real one. I’ve met someone. She’s everything I could ever want and nothing I deserve, but I’m not going to lose her because of you, Dad. I’m not screwing this up for you or anyone else. I need you to stay out of my life. You and I are finished. I’ve given you thirty-one years to get your shit together and be a real father. It’s never going to happen.”

“Is that why you dragged me out here? To rub it in my face how much better you are than me?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m telling you because you need to hear it. And because…” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “I forgive you.”