Page 50 of Spring Break Fling

“Pathetic,” I spat.

He groaned on the floor, rolling over with a grunt.

“I didn’t steal shit,” he grumbled, dragging himself up to lean against the armchair. “You gave me the money I needed, dumb shit. Don’t go accusing me of being a thief.”

The anger surged in me again, hot and blinding, but I forced it down. This was the same song and dance it had always been with Zip. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.

I stared down at the pathetic excuse for a father sprawled on the stained carpet. I’d known this was how it would go, but part of me—the part that was still a lost little kid desperate for any scrap of approval—had held out hope he might surprise me.

“You came into my place and demanded I give you money,” I reminded him. “It wasn’t like I gave it willingly.”

Around us, the other freeloaders—guys I’d known since I was a kid, who hadn’t changed a bit in all those years—started circling like vultures.

“Yo, Nikko, you got a twenty?” one of them slurred.

“More like a fifty,” another chimed in. “C’mon, man, help a brother out.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head as I turned for the door. “You guys are unbelievable.”

“Get off your high horse, Nikko!” Zip called out. “You might dress up like you’re fancy but you still stink of the gutter you crawled out of.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

He started cackling. “You’re no better than any of us. Give it another ten years and you’ll be just like us.”

I scoffed. “The fuck I will.”

“Ten years!” he shouted.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Deep down, I knew he was right—I wasn’t better than them. Not really. I’d just made different choices.

I slammed the door behind me and didn’t look back. I was shaking with anger, but more than that, I was disappointed. Why did I think this time would be any different? Why did I keep putting myself through this?

By the time I got back in my car, my hands were still shaking. The fury, the frustration, the goddamn sadness of it all—it was too much. I didn’t hate my father, but it was pretty damn close.

I started the car and looked back at the house. Weirdly enough, I did believe him when he said it wasn’t him that broke into the shop. Why would he put forth any effort when he could just ask me?

But if it wasn’t Zip who’d broken into the shop, then who the hell had?

I pulled out my phone and called Marcus. I had hoped to get the money back and fix things before calling him, but if my dad wasn’t involved, Marcus needed to know what was going on immediately.

“We’ve got a situation,” I said.

“What time is it?” His voice was rough like I’d woken him up.

“One. Someone broke into the shop. Shattered the front door.”

“What the fuck?” I could tell he was awake now. “What happened?”

“I happened to be driving by and saw the door smashed in. The register was cleaned out.”

“Shit. Did you call the cops?”

“No.”

“What the hell do you mean, no?”

“I thought it was my dad.”