Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“Sorry. This is the women’s restroom, and if you identify as a woman, I’ll eat my shorts.”
That had gotten a bark of laughter from him, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Nah. But my woman’s ill. I’m just making sure she has what she needs.”
“I can do that.” I’d given him a sweet smile before closing and locking the door. Oh, he’d pounded on the door, but I’d ignored him.
Rose had gotten a kick out of it. Well, after she’d finished being sick. We’d exited the bathroom fast friends, and my relationship with the Iron Tzars had begun.
Had I singled out Walker? Maybe. OK, yeah. I had. But the man was the meanest, surliest, toughest man I’d ever met. Even in a compound full of mean, surly, tough men. He was large and muscular, work roughened in the extreme. There wasn’t anything soft about him, especially when it came to outsiders. I should have taken that into consideration before I’d set my sights on him.
As I drove down the road, my phone vibrated with a text message. I glanced at the onboard screen to confirm the text was from my father. Likely wondering why I wasn’t at the fundraising gala. I’d told him I wouldn’t be there, but he never listened to me about anything. I was expected to drop anything I was doing to support him in his political career, no matter what. His ultimate goal was the U.S. Congress. Probably the Senate, because he saw it as the more prestigious office. Possibly even the presidency. Right now, though, he was running for a second term as mayor of Evansville. Considering the people of Evansville didn’t take to outsiders much, him getting elected in the first place had been a phenomenal feat.
He’d basically bought his way into office the first time, and this was expected to be a cakewalk. There were still fundraisers and schmoozing to be done, though. His base, while loyal, needed reassurances their projects would be funded and he’d continue to grease their palms with policies that favored their businesses. Anyone who didn’t realize that real power lay with small-town politics never met my father. He ran this city like he was a king, and people treated him as such. Not only that, but there were always one or two prominent figures he thought could help propel him to greater things. Onto a state or even national scale.
My mother had always been the one to accompany him to these things. She knew I hated them and had smoothed things over with him most of the time so I could stay home. My mother died the week before the first election after leaving a donor party in the final push before the big day. My father was supposed to have been with her, but he said she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to leave early. The limo she was in was hit head on, and the car crashed through a bridge rail and plunged into the water below. Both the driver and my mother were killed, and my father won the election in a landslide. Since that time, he’d made me fill my mother’s place in his public life, and I’d found out what a monster my father truly was.
Three more texts came through. All of them got the same answer. The auto response from the car about me driving and I’d answer his text when I’d reached my destination. Then the calls started. After the third call, I finally gave in and answered.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Blossom. You will be at the gala in an hour.” No “or else” because I knew what the “or else” was.
“I can’t. I’ve been baking all day and have just made the last delivery.” Not a lie. I often did baking for some of the elderly in the community. They enjoyed the cookies, but also the company. I liked it because it made me feel good to see them happy, and because it gave me an excuse to be out of the house and away from my father. He allowed it because he saw it as an easy way to keep his approval rating up and get votes all at the same time.
“You will be at the gala in an hour.” There was a note of steel in his voice that told me it didn’t matter if I showed up or not. The “or else” would happen anyway because I’d dared to defy him, no matter how polite I was about it. How badly it ended up being depended on how late I showed up and how appropriate my appearance was. I started to respond but he ended the call.
My breathing came in ragged gasps as my heart rate skyrocketed. The election was only a couple of months away. Would I have an accident like my mother? At the time, I’d been convinced he was going for the sympathy vote. It had been a Hail Mary at best, but it worked since he’d been behind in the polls and had then managed to squeak out a win. I didn’t think I’d end up like my mother just yet, but only because he had enough people in his pocket that he was predicted to win by a landslide. He might lock me up in the mansion he lived in, but he’d want to have me to parade around when he needed it. His loving daughter. It was a great way to show his family values.