Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Having no relationship with my own mother, I had to put my faith to rest in those who had those sorts of experiences.
Shifting out of ‘what am I going to do to try to bond with my teenage daughter all weekend’ mode, I decided that my night was going to involve two things.
A shitton of junk food.
And binge-watching TV.
So I grabbed my coffee and my phone, then set to placing delivery orders to Chinese, pizza, and this local dessert place, getting myself half a dozen donuts that, yes, I would eat over the course of the weekend.
Then I went through all of the movies I’d been wanting to watch but Daphne thought were too cheesy or cringe or cheugy or whatever word she’d use to describe something that wasn’t cool enough for her.
I was in a food coma and through a movie and a half when I decided to call to check in on Daphne. She was going to hate it, would likely later tell me I was being overprotective. And maybe she was right.
What can I say, though?
She was my whole world for the past sixteen years. I’d, in a way, grown up with her. What choice did you have when you had a baby when you were still a kid yourself?
“Yeah?” Daphne answered.
“Just calling to check in,” I said. “If you want to come home but not sound like the bad guy, just tell me you’ll do the dishes when you get home.”
“Mooom,” Daphne said. I could hear the eye roll through the phone.
“Alright. Just checking. Can I talk to Britney?” I asked, figuring Allie’s other mom was likely already in bed since she got up at the crack of dawn for work.
“Oh, she ran out to get us ice cream,” Daphne said. “I can tell her to call you when she gets back.”
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “Alright, you girls have fun,” I said, hanging up.
For a moment, I felt that crushing wave of nostalgia. The carelessness of youth. The feeling like you had all the time in the world. And not a single responsibility to kill your joy.
At the end of the day, though, I’d had my fun. I’d had the fun of ten girls, if I were being honest. When you had no one keeping an eye on you, it really freed up your schedule to do all sorts of wild and shady shit.
You name it, I did it. Sneaking into bars. Clubbing. Having experiences with guys who, looking back, were predators. Smoking, drinking, some other… experimenting.
I even had a tattoo. I would tell Daphne it was on my hip, but it was totally on the side of my ass. It had been done by a friend’s older brother who bought a machine somewhere and had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Or having, you know, a single artistic bone in his body.
Three years ago, on my thirtieth birthday, I’d splurged on a professional tattoo session to get the hideous thing covered up. Of course, because of how big the original had been, I’d needed to get a kind of massive floral piece that went from the side of my butt down my thigh to fully cover it.
I secretly loved it. Getting it done and telling no one had felt a bit like a throwback to my mischievous youth.
I guess I should have been glad that my kid was just hanging out with her friend, likely making silly videos on social media than out doing the crazy crap I used to get into at her age.
I pulled the blanket up higher, clicked play on the TV, and grabbed for the jelly donut that was calling my name even if my stomach already felt like it was going to bust.
I even felt myself drifting off to sleep—without the worries of being teased for being old—content with my night to myself.
It was my phone ringing that woke me up. My heartbeat hammered as I struggled toward consciousness, confused at the darkness in the apartment, having no idea how much time had passed as I reached toward the coffee table to get my phone.
Daphne.
It could be Daphne.
Sure enough, it was her name on the screen.
I reached for the remote, clicking it to make the screensaver go away so I could see the clock.
Eleven-thirty.
“Daph, is everything alright?” I answered, pressing a hand to my thumping chest.
And I swear my blood ran cold at hearing not my daughter’s voice on the other end of the phone, but a man’s.
CHAPTER TWO
Callow
“Alright, fellow degenerates,” Sully called, making Nave and Perish walk out of the kitchen, brows raised, to find Sully standing there in an orange Hawaiian shirt with a pumpkin and black cat pattern on it.
“We party?” Perish asked.
“We hit the bar,” Sully said. “Then we bring some pretty back here to party with. I know you’re game,” he said, looking at Perish. “And the twins,” he added, nodding toward the two who were already waiting by the door. “You coming?” he asked, looking at Nave and then me.