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You could look at him and see it was true. He had that dark look to his eyes. And something scary just radiated out of him.
I mean, you could see muscles just rolling under that skin of his. He couldn't never find a shirt that fit him right. Everything was too tight on him.
He was wearing a T-shirt right then. Shit! He was good looking. In a dark sort of way. I had to hand that to my mom, she knew how to pick 'em.
Daddy was her fourth husband!
She was a parole officer. And she had a thing for hard luck cases.
But for God's sake, my new daddy had tattoos!
"So what the fuck we gonna do?" I said, looking out at the desert.
Daddy just kept looking at me like he was gonna kill me. I really thought he might do it. Just to shut me up.
I pushed out my breasts at him. That was always a safe bet. I'm eighteen, and I've got some fine breasts.
Daddy looked hard at my breasts then. Man had no shame. Then I guess he decided he wouldn't kill me.
"As long as you're moving your trap, you might as well make yourself useful." Daddy said. "First, call triple A. Tell them we need a tow to Los Vegas. Next, call your mommy and tell her we ain't making it home tonight."
What's going to happen?
