AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But Share Bear. Dallas admitted he had a wild streak, but he’s ready to move on and be a man.” Even that stupid grin on my father’s face didn’t appease me. This news upset me beyond the point of any resolution. “He became one of the new prospects in Nanuq Shila.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I mouthed an unaffected, ‘WOW’. “Speaking of Nanuq Shila. Are you ever going to drop that antiquated rule of no old ladies or daughters allowed in yourHe-Man Woman Haters Tricycle Club?”My father hated it when I called his precious motorcycle club the name taken from the Little Rascals. But it infuriated me. I couldn't be a part of it. He wouldn’t make an exception that I was his daughter, one who lived, ate, and breathed motorcycles… and guns! I own a few guns but would never use them on any animal or person.
My father groaned and tightened his lips. “Why do you have to be so difficult? If your mother—.”
I held up my hand to stop him, trying not to cry and mess up the masterpiece that I spent an hour perfecting.
My mother passed away two years ago from her battle with ovarian cancer and my heart aches constantly; and without a doubt, so does my father’s. “Dad, please don’t finish that. I miss her every day.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling his bear hug tight around me. “Don’t be so hard on yourself; you’re doing the best you can. Just let me rant and be a brat from time to time.” I poked him in his paunchy belly. “You need to hit the gym, Dad!”
His low chuckle rumbled,” I love you too, kiddo.”
They were my world. My mother, God rest her sweet soul, tried her best to teach me how to be a lady, though it never rubbed off. My father was my mentor and best friend. I recall hours in the garage with him while he taught me how to take apart motorcycles and put them back together. He taught me how to shoot guns and was my cheerleader in my failed dog sledding ventures. All I wanted to do with this life was make my father proud and, mostly, I succeeded. Yet, I think tonight was a test of my patience and tolerance of men or boys my age.
You’d think the third time was a third strike. No, he is having the fourth guy over. The first one was named Erik Something Or Other. My father met him while fishing that morning and thought I would be interested in a tow-headed, blue-eyed Viking. Yeah, he was handsome but awkward as the day was long; which in Alaska is… very long. I made my specialty Waldorf Salad with pistachios instead of walnuts and you can guess what happened next. Yup, Erik, the Viking was highly allergic to pistachios, and we spent the rest of the evening in Urgent Care. So, that was not my fault. It was his for not pointing out food allergies and my father’s for not asking if the guy had food allergies. So, Char is in the clear on this one.
Number two didn’t fare as bad as Erik, but my father regretted the time he let Michael Coleman into our home. This guy was beyond annoying and used a fork to eat his burger. Here I was at the table with greasy fingers, while ketchup and mayo dribbled down the corners of my lips. It wasn’t as bad as Michael bragging about his many properties and all the expensive shit he owned. My father and I were not materialistic, and we weren't impressed with arrogance. This man wore arrogance like he wore his designer button-down shirt. It’s hard to say which one out of the two offended my father more—my atrocious table manners or every word that came out of Michael’s mouth. However, I was given a reprieve since I was his daughter and Michael was shown the door at eight o’clock.
Tonight, I needed to top the sabotage I committed on the number three victim.
This next guy was the worst of the worst. Todd Madsen was walking sex on a stick. All the women wanted him and got him because he was a man-whore. He tried with me, but it was a hard pass, which made him hate me even more than he already did.
All the men wanted to bash his face in—I fit into the man category because I never liked this tool. I’d known Todd since junior high when I first got here, and he was never accommodating. In fact, he was a bully.
He constantly taunted and teased Mushu for everything, ranging from his name to his hand-me-down bicycle. The straw that broke the camel’s back was during one of our Chess Club’s fundraising bake sales—yeah, we had a few to raise money to go to Seattle. Anyway, that’s not the point. My mother exhausted herself by baking every cookie and cake known to man. I was so proud of what she offered. My mother had mad skills in the baking department. Todd the Tool, along with his friends, thought it would be so funny to smash the cookies and spit on the cakes. This led to an ass-whooping from yours truly, and we were both suspended from school. Oh, but I still got to go to Seattle after Todd’s parents were forced to pay for the baked goods he vandalized.
When my father told me who was coming over, I about died; not like swooning. I wanted to die so I could avoid any conversation with this douchebag. There was the thought of killing my father too, but that was extreme and I had other ideas.
Ideas of how to sabotage this dinner swam through my head. I could smash his dinner, preferably smash his head into his dinner, or I could spit in the gravy. Neither was a novel idea, and I didn’t agree with an eye for an eye.
My nerves were shot, and I started the day drinking without my father knowing until close to dinnertime, when I was three sheets to the wind. There was so much alcohol in my system, I can’t even tell you what Todd wore or what he said. From what my father told me, Todd wore everything I had consumed that day. That was classic, too bad I missed it.
I plopped down on the couch, stretching out my leg to dangle over the back. “Sit up, young lady,” my father ordered, and I begrudgingly complied. “Dallas is a great guy and I think you'll like him. And—maybe, actually, talk to him. I’ve seen the way you ogle at him.” I shuddered at my father’s comment and protested to myself that I don’t ogle at Dallas or stare or think about him or dream about him. Okay, maybe I do, but I had no time to fawn all over some dude when I was leaving in two weeks. Dallas was dreamy, but he acted as though I didn’t exist in any desirable sense because I was considered ‘one of the dudes’.
“Can I get a beer?” I asked with a grin, and my father shook his head.
He sat next to me and pulled my legs onto his lap. “Let me finish. I asked Dallas if he had food allergies. No shellfish, so I am throwing steaks on the grill. You will act and eat like a lady. So that means don’t eat your steak like a cave woman and eat it with your hands. Dallas is from a family of limited means, so he has nothing to brag about.”
I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out of the side of my mouth as I pretended I was being hung by a tight noose. “I’m sure he’ll brag about where he had taken all of his girlfriends and what he did with them.”
“Char… Char… Char—for the love of God, will you stop already?”
Shaking my head, I mouthed a lingering,Nooooo.“So then, that means I can’t get drunk off my ass to calm my nerves.”
“You’re only eighteen. You shouldn’t be drinking, anyway. A beer with Dallas won’t hurt, but only that.” He patted my legs. “Finish getting ready, I’m gonna fire up the grill. Your Prince Charming will be here in a half-hour.”
***
As Dallas and I shared a beer in awkward silence, I could tell this was going to be a bust. Damn, he was one good-looking man, but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Oh, wait! Neither was I. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it, though finally speaking, “So, your father says you leave tomorrow for Seattle?”
I swallowed my beer and answered, “No, not for another two weeks.” I had to bite my tongue in order not to blurt out something super inappropriate. Since I was a virgin, nothing like that would ever happen between Dallas and me, even if he wanted it. “So, don’t get any thoughts about taking me behind the bleachers at the high school. I’m not a hussy.”
Dallas nearly choked on his beer. “I never said that, and I never thought about sleeping with you. We don’t even know each other. I have a question, though.”
“Wut?”
“Why do you have so much fucking make-up on your face?”
BUZZ!
