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A few months ago, she’d made the mistake of reading a few social media posts with her name hashtagged. While millions loved her and praised her for her glamorous fashion sense, acting ability, and flashy lifestyle, many others found her to be nothing more than a high-maintenance waste of space. And without the benefit of alcohol to lose herself in, their words had cut her.
Deeply.
Unfortunately, she’d not yet mastered the ability to think of her sobriety without recalling every embarrassing and hurtful mistake she’d made to get her to the point of requiring rehab. Somehow, she needed to find a way, though. Leaving the room every time the subject came up would get old fast.
Shaking her head at her foolishness, Mickie stepped out into the quiet night. Thankfully, one garage bay was still open and well lit. Without the light flooding into the parking lot, she’d have been tempted to run back in and ask Keith to escort her to her car, which went against her need to prove she could tackle life on her own.
Alone and sober.
Her new reality.
With a sigh, she dug her keys out of her purse.
“’S he in there?”
Mickie shrieked and jumped so hard she wrenched her neck. The keys tumbled from her hand to the asphalt with a clatter. Standing three feet to her left was a scruffy man in his mid-fifties, maybe sixty. “Shit, you scared me,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have any cash on me.”
As she spoke, she scanned the ground for her keys, but it was too damn dark to see much.
The man laughed. “That’s too bad. Could sure use some cash. But I wanna know if my piece-of-shit son is here.”
He stumbled a bit as he stepped closer. On instinct, Mickie backed away. Now that he’d mentioned it, she noticed the resemblance to Keith. The height, the strong stature, same nose and face shape. This man was once handsome, she could tell, but years of poisoning his body had taken their toll. Hair that had probably been the same near black as Keith’s was gray and thinning. He had the same gray across his unshaven cheeks, but in a patchy, unkempt manner.
Suddenly, Mickie understood Keith’s initial adverse reaction to the news of her substance issues. The pungent odor of booze wafted off the man. She’d often feared the smell of alcohol would send her running for the nearest bottle with an intense craving. Not the case here. Her stomach lurched, and she took another step back.
He followed.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, trying to inch toward her car. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Just picking up my car. Have a nice evening.”
Fuck, I hope I left the car unlocked.
At the very least, she could lock herself inside the vehicle until he left, then come back out and search for the keys.
He snorted, wavering side to side as he walked. “I know my boy. Fancy little slut like you is just his type. Gotta say, the boy’s got taste.” He licked his lips, sending a wave of revulsion through her.
Oh, God.
Mickie gave up trying to be subtle, spun, and dashed for her car. She yanked on the handle only to have her heart sink to the ground.
No. No. No.
The one time she remembered to lock the damn thing.
She twisted around only to encounter Keith’s father right up in her personal space. “Back up,” she said as panic began to set in.
Screw independence. Why the hell hadn’t she taken Keith up on his offer to walk her to the damn car?
He raised his hands in surrender but didn’t move away. Instead, he smirked. “I know who you are.”
Holy shit, that could not be true. Mickie stopped breathing.
“You hear me?” he asked, so close his putrid breath hit her face.
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. All she could think of was this hateful man knowing her secret and outing her to the world. Papparazzi would be camping on her lawn before she had a chance to shut the blinds.
“You’re the rich piece of ass who moved across the street from my fucking kids. You ain’t the first rich bitch he’s gone after.” The man laughed. “That blew up in his fucking face.”
She sucked in air so fast her head spun. He had no clue about her real identity. He was just a drunk jerk spouting off his mouth. The relief came on so strong her knees almost buckled, and with it came her voice.
“Back. Up,” she said, with far more force this time.
He smirked but took two long steps away from her.
Mickie blew out a shaky exhale as she drew her purse up. At least she didn’t have his putrid breath wafting over her anymore. “H-how about I call him?” She didn’t want to send Keith’s father into the garage without warning. Too many tools could be used as weapons and, even wasted, with the element of surprise, the large man could do some serious damage. Thankfully, she kept nothing more than a small wallet, keys, and phone with her these days. Within seconds, she had the phone out. Since the garage had been one of the most recent numbers to call her, she’d be able to find it fast.
