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My dad is going to freak when he sees this.
“This is not good,” I say weakly.
“Can you contact them to take the pictures down?” Lee frets.
Jamie laughs. “Yes, because that’s a thing tabloids do.”
“They’re paparazzi. I can’t stop them from taking photos of me on a public street.” I moan, handing back the phone. “Fuck.Fuck! He’s going to kill me. He’s legit going to kill me. With his bare hands.”
“Maybe— ”
The doorbell rings, and Lee shrieks in frustration.
“Make it stop! Can we not be left alone today!”
“Thisisgetting rather ridiculous,” Jamie remarks as he wanders into the hall to answer the door.
Two seconds later, a familiar male voice fills the flat.
“Where is she? Where is my daughter?”
I freeze. Oh my God.
I’m done for.
Deceased.
Scatter my ashes.
41
MY FATHER STUMBLES INTO THE LIVING ROOM AND SKIDS TO Astop a second later. When our gazes meet, I’m genuinely concerned about his appearance. He’s beyond frazzled, eyes rimmed red from exhaustion, hair messy and unruly as he rakes a hand through it. He’s wearing wrinkled jeans and an old band sweatshirt. Not a Gunner Bly one. Aerosmith. It’s faded and worn, one of his favorites.
The air is thick with tension, pouring off him in palpable waves. Dad’s suspicious gaze travels around the room.
It briefly rests on me.
Then Lee. Jack. Jamie.
Then returns to me.
“Oh, hello,” Lee says, gawking at the middle-aged rocker standing in our living room.
Dad ignores him. “Who the fuck are these people, Abbey?” he demands.
I swallow the lump of fear in my throat. “Um. They’re my roommates.”
Silence crashes over us.
Endless hear-a-pin-drop silence.
Chest rising as he slowly inhales, Dad stares at me for an eternity and a half. Then he speaks in a low, deadly voice.
“I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”
The guys remain frozen in place.
He barks, “Get lost!” and they scatter like rats fleeing a sinking ship. I don’t think Lee even puts on his shoes. The front door slams behind them.
