Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“Oh, don’t I know it,” he chuckles. “My job was a lot easier back then. No sex-crazed scumbags to chase away, just the occasional boy pulling your hair or me having to give my hopeless opinion on which of your outfits was cuter.”
I smile at my dad as he holds the door to our trailer for me.
“Hey, you did your best there.”
“Well, if your mom had stuck around and done her job, I wouldn’t have had to.”
I smile as we go inside, but I can’t help but think that Dad’s acting a little strange right now – offering to make me hot chocolate, which he hasn’t done in years, and bringing up Mom, something that he never does. It’s a sore subject for both of us. I can’t help but wonder if he’s got something on his mind.
Just the smell of the hot chocolate as he sets it down in front of me takes me back to my childhood, when Mom was in and out of my life and Dad had to take over doing double-parent duty before she was gone forever.
“Whipped cream?”
“Yes, please.” I smile. He sprays a nice helping into my cup and pulls up his seat beside me. “Listen, Becca, I have to talk to you about something. Something pretty serious.”
“What is it, Dad?”
“Well, I…” A look comes over Dad’s face that I rarely see – a look of almost fear. Almost. “I’m going to be going away for a while.”
“Going away? Like…like to jail?”
The term is not exactly foreign around these parts, but my dad has always kept his nose clean, worked as a mechanic and a handyman, and never ended up going down the wrong road. So to hear him say something like this…well, it just doesn’t make sense.
Nevertheless, he nods and puts his hand on mine. “Yeah, for about six months.”
“What? What for!?” I can hardly believe what I’m hearing.
“Accessory to grand theft auto—”
“Grand theft auto!?” I blurt out, aghast. “Like the video game!?”
“Accessory to,” Dad chuckles. “And no. No one was killed, and there were no strippers involved.”
“Oh good,” I reply sarcastically. “At least there were no strippers involved! Dad, what were you doing stealing a car!?”
“I wasn’t, honey,” he says softly. “It’s all a big mix-up, but the evidence is pointing to me, and there’s no way I can clear my name, so…I’ve got to do the time.”
My stomach sinks like an anchor going straight to the bottom of the deepest, darkest part of the ocean where those fish with the glowing things on their heads are.
“Dad, I…I don’t understand. How can they do this? Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“I’m afraid not,” he replies, shaking his head. “This is the situation, honey. I’ve got to buckle down and do the time. That’s all there is to it.”
“When? When are you going?”
Dad pauses and sighs. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!?” I blurt out, feeling panic rise up in me like a soup about to boil over and spill all over the stove. “Dad, why didn’t you tell me!?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.” He smiles. “I’m going in tomorrow, it’s only six months, and I’ll be back before you know it. Okay?”
It’s almost too much to take in. I slump back in my chair and let my eyes sort of focus on nothing as I try to process.
Jail. My dad’s going to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. It’s not like it’s hard enough to come from Singing Pines, a frigging trailer park where there aren’t even any pine trees, (and if there were, they sure wouldn’t be singing), now my dad has to be going to jail for what somebody else did?
“This is a nightmare…”
“Don’t worry, honey,” my dad says. “I’ve got my buddy Dax coming to take care of you while I’m gone. Make sure ol’ Trevor there doesn’t get out of line.”
I frown. “Dad, I don’t need someone taking care of me while you’re gone. I’m turning eighteen. I can take care of myself.”
Dad shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m not leaving you alone here without supervision while I’m gone. Like it or not, he’s coming.”
Outside, I hear the familiar sound of a motorcycle engine approaching. Dad looks up and smiles.
“As a matter of fact, that should be him now.”
“Dad, I—” I start to protest, but Dad gives me that warning look that lets me know I should stop, so I do. He gets up from the table and goes to the window and looks out. He smiles and goes to the door.
“Wait here. Then I’ll introduce you.”
He goes out the door, leaving me sitting by myself feeling the effects of some pretty severe whiplash.
Best friend? I’ve never even heard of this guy Dax before. His name sounds like some kind of superhero or secret agent, and they’re supposed to be best friends? How is it Dad’s never mentioned him to me?