Brittany struggles to hoist herself off the floor, screaming at him. “Daddy, put the gun down!”
Harry keeps that gun pointed right at my fucking face. I can see his dark brown eye peering at me through the sight. He’s madder than I’ve ever seen him, and his finger hovers over the trigger. Fuck, Harry. Pray that gun isn’t loaded. I’m not worth this. I’m not worth you going to prison for killing a cop because Lord knows they won’t care why you did it.
I can’t speak. I have to think my way out of this because I say the wrong word and Harry, my best friend, blows a hole through my fucking head for having his naked daughter curled up in my bed. Unable to drag herself off the ground, Brittany drags my cotton white bedsheet off me and wraps it around herself. She stands up, still shrieking at her dad to put the gun down.
Harry turns the 12-gauge on a better target — my exposed dick.
“Tell me what’s going on or I swear to fucking God, I’ll shoot your dick off.”
“Daddy, you’re SICK!” Brittany screeches. “This is crazy. You can’t shoot Fletcher because there is horrible health care in prison! Don’t do this! Fletcher didn’t do anything wrong.”
Harry doesn’t give a fuck. He found us naked in bed together after I told him I was looking after her. I’ve known Britt almost her whole life. How can he not think the worst of me? This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out and I’m still fucking frozen in front of him. With my cock out. And Brittany’s naked. It’s a bad fucking picture. I mean, Britt looks like a knock-out but the rest of this shit is a goddamned mess.
“Harry, listen. I’m not worth it. I can explain everything but… I’d do a lot better if you didn’t have a gun pointed at my dick.”
“You aren’t getting out of that damn bed, Fletcher Sweeney,” Harry growls at me.
“Dad, listen to me,” Brittany huffs. “You shouldn’t be out of bed! You shouldn’t be—
“Quiet, Britt! This man might say he loves you but he’s manipulating your feelings and—
Harry lowers the gun as he faces a surprise coughing fit. It’s enough time for me to grab the pistol from my bedside table, even if it’s unloaded and point it at him.
“YOU CAN’T KILL MY DAD!” Brittany screams.
“Nobody’s killing anybody. Harry, put the gun down.”
Harry’s coughing sounds almost like roaring and as his face turns a copper tinted brown, he points the muzzle towards the ground. I hop out of bed, trying hard to ignore the fact that I’m baring my ass and dick to my best friend and I get in front of Brittany and shove her towards the door.
“Get out of here. I’ll handle him.”
“Are you out of your mind!?” Brittany yells, shoving me out of the way and racing towards her father.
“Brittany, that gun could go off.”
“Then let it!” She yells back. Fuck, I love this fierce little thing, even if she’s crazy as fuck. Harry drops the gun and regains his composure, but he still has his hands clenches in fists and he glares at me — ignoring Brittany entirely.
“Daddy, stop. Fletcher didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Like hell he did.”
“You’re going to die,” Brittany says. “You’re going to get a heart attack and die right now because you’re freaking out too much.”
It’s probably for the best that I don’t point out that Brittany’s the one nearly at the point of hysterics.
Harry rolls his eyes. “I will not die. In fact, not going to die woke me up out of bed and made me realize this honky didn’t bring my daughter back home!”
Swearing doesn’t come naturally to Harry. He grew up with very proper religious parents and unlike me, he didn’t have a batch of unruly brothers like I did.Honky? That’s a first for me and people call cops a lot of fucked up shit.
“Daddy, that’s racist,” Brittany says seriously. “Very racist. And what the hell do you even mean, huh? What happened this morning?”
“I won’t let the two of you distract me from this entanglement happening under my very nose. When did he start molesting you? Huh? You can talk. Don’t matter if he has a pistol, he’s going to jail for hurting you after I shoot his dick right off.”
“Daddy, that is mortifying,” Brittany says, wrapping her bed. sheet around her tightly and fluffing out her hair to enhance her dignity as much as possible. “You’ve known Fletcher almost his whole life and he would never hurt me. He has never hurt me. We’re in love.”
“In love?” Harry says, the pitch of his voice changing and the content of his statement forcing him into another coughing fit. Brittany and I await the end of his coughing fit patiently. Brittany puts her hand on his back and subtly attempts to kick the 12-gauge across the room. Christ, Britt, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? I want to check if the gun is unloaded, but I don’t want to make any sudden movements while Brittany has her father under control. For now.
When Harry regains his composure, he gruffly clears his throat.