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“I want to stay because I like it here,” I admitted. “Him and me talking at the wedding? That was just a huge coincidence. One I want to explore? Yes. But also not all the way why I want to stay. I like…being me here. I like the anonymity of it. I’m not too far from home that I can’t get there fast, but I’m also not working in a city where my father and his club rule with an iron fist.”
He sighed.
“So what are we doing with your stuff?” he asked.
Somehow, I knew he wasn’t going to like this answer, either.
***
One o’clock was quickly approaching, and before I knew it, I was showering in Lock’s pool house and tearing my way through boxes looking for something suitable enough to wear to an interview.
I finally found a black dress that would suit my needs, slipped it on, and then went about getting ready.
When I came out of the bathroom, my dad was looking at the pool that wasn’t a pool.
It was just a rather large hole in the ground that used to once be a pool.
“This place is weird,” he said.
It was.
“Wait until you see the main house,” I told him. “He bought it and totally renovated the inside. But instead of walls, it’s one big open area. Like…only the bathroom has a door around it. The rest is just open.”
Dad frowned.
“That’s…odd,” he said. “Was it condemned or something?”
I went about explaining what Lock had told me, and he shook his head.
“Lot of work for one person,” he admitted. “Looks like he was about to start working on the pool house, though.”
I’d noticed that, too.
There were tools and shit inside, and some of the bathroom had been torn down as if that was where he was starting first.
“Wonder why they had a pool house, anyway,” he said. “It’s like the size of a postage stamp back here.”
“All pool and pool house,” I agreed. “I have to admit…having a pool would be really nice. I could totally work on my tan.”
Dad looked at my already tanned skin.
“I gave you a permanent tan, you don’t have to work on shit,” he rumbled.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“Buying you sheets and curtains,” he murmured. “She asked me to go with her, but I decided that I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than step foot in a home store with her when she’s acting like that.”
‘Like that’ meaning she wanted to decorate and buy stuff.
Dad hated shopping.
“All right,” I sighed, looking at my watch. “I have to go.”
Dad pulled me into a one-armed hug.
I squirmed when his sweaty chest began to hit my face.
“Ewwww,” I said, pushing him away.
