Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“Listen, baby girl,” he says after a sigh. “I know I’ve been kind of a drag, but you gotta remember I’ve never done this before. You’re my kid. Letting you run off and start your own life is pretty scary for a father. When I was your age, I’d just signed a record contract and was in a different city every night getting up to all sorts of trouble.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say dryly.
He smiles and drops his head in response. “So you know that means I’ve seen all sorts of ways a young woman can find herself in over her head alone in a big city.”
“Yeah. I’m under the assumption that’s how I came to be.”
He coughs, furrowing his brow. “Something like that.”
It’s no secret that Nancy was a groupie who followed Dad around until she finally made it up to his hotel room. They weren’t together long. The rest is rock ’n’ roll history. Terribly fickle, those groupies.
Truth is, I’m due an adolescent indiscretion or two. Another drawback to being Gunner Bly’s daughter is growing up hearing the stories of his many exploits but having no stories or exploits of my own, coddled and sheltered in the hermetic seal of his guilt and regrets. I appreciate he only wants the best for me, but I’m a college student now. I’d like to experience at least a little of the rowdy debauchery that is customary for a girl my age.
“What I’m trying to say is I worry about you. That’s all.” He gets up and reaches for my hand. “You’re just about the only thing I’ve gotten right.”
“I think Billboard and the wall of Grammys would beg to differ.”
“That stuff doesn’t matter even a fraction as much as being your dad, you hear me?”
A tear comes to his eye, which gets me all choked up. Nothing gets me crying like seeing my dad emotional. We’re both softies that way.
“I love you,” I tell him. “And I’m going to be fine. It means a lot to me that you’re on board with this, okay? It’s important.”
“Just promise me you’ll make good decisions. And remember that nothing good happens after midnight.”
“I promise.” I give him a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“You know you can always come home, right?” He won’t let go of the hug, so I don’t pull away because I know he needs this. “Any time. Day or night. Say the word and I’ll have a ticket waiting at the airport.”
“I know.”
“And if you get in any trouble at all. No matter what it is. You find yourself somewhere you don’t want to be or you end up in jail— ”
“Dad…”
“Whatever it is, you call me, and I’ll help you out. No questions asked. We don’t ever have to talk about it. That’s a promise.”
I wipe a tear from my eye and smear it on his shirt. “Okay.”
My phone chimes. It’s a text from the driver saying he’s outside.
I release a nervous breath. “Time to go.”
Right. This is really happening.
Until now, all I’ve thought about is the freedom and adventure of moving across an ocean. Suddenly, the dread and uncertainty rush in. What if I hate my new roommates? What if they hate me? What if British food is gross? What if everyone at my new school is much smarter than I am?
An urgent instinct to dive under my bed grips my chest.
As if hearing my anxieties bubbling over, Dad manages to snap himself into parent mode. Somehow, he’s the one reassuring me now.
“Don’t sweat it,” he says, throwing my backpack over his shoulder and grabbing my carry-on roller. “You’re gonna leave them breathless.”
Together we load up the waiting airport limo. What’s left will get shipped to the flat. I’m not sure I’m even breathing as Dad gives me one last hug and shoves a wad of cash in my pocket.
“For emergencies,” he says. “I love you.”
For most of my life, this ranch house felt like a comfortable prison meant to trick me into forgetting I was shackled to its confines. Finally, I’ve broken through, except I never stopped to ask myself what I’d do once I was free. It’s a whole terrifying world out there full of ways to get my teeth knocked in.
And I couldn’t be more excited.
It’s after midnight local time when we touch down in London, the lights of the runway blurry in the window speckled with rain while a voice overhead tells us to set our watches forward.
After a nearly ten-hour flight, I can’t get off this plane fast enough. My bladder’s screaming at me and my feet are swollen. A delirious kind of urgency grips me while I stand in the aisle, anxious and fidgety, with my bags in hand to deplane. The hatch opens, and I scurry down the gangway to the terminal and nearest restroom.