Page 80 of Up in Smoke

God, he’s absolutely trashed.

“Sure, Pops.”

“I knew we’d run inna each other so soon. Shh.” He covers his mouth with a clumsy finger. “I won’t tell yer little girlfriend. Now go on and wrangle us up a few strippers. Father-son bonding, yeah? I need to borrow some cash, though.”

I grind my jaw. He winks at me, then closes his eyes and nods off. Two security guards come up on either side of me with their arms crossed.

I ignore them and lightly slap my hand on Monty’s cheek two times. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Want us to call him a cab again?” one of the security guards asks.

I look up. “Again?”

“Yeah, same as the other night? Two days ago, he passed out on the bench by the bathrooms. We found a recent receipt and a motel key card in his wallet. Called a cab and sent him there.”

I scoff, hardly believing what I’m hearing. I hit him hard on the chest to wake him up. He lifts his head enough for me to get a strong whiff of stale beer.

“Huh?” he says, wide-eyed now.

“Get up before I call the nearest rehab.”

He shoots up to a sitting position. I grab one of his hands when he starts swaying back and forth. I’m damn near drunk myself, so the attempt to heft us both to our feet doesn’t exactly work.

“Don’t bother,” he grumbles. “Accept yer fate now, son. Just lay down ‘n let tomorrow kick your ass when it gets here like me. Same as ev’ry damn day. Runs in the fa—hiccup—mily.”

He flops down to his back just as two arms link through each of my elbows. Judging by their voices as they speak with the security guards, they’re Heston and Gage. I don’t know why I do it—fight against them while they lift me to stand. They don’t let go until I’m nearly shouting and pushing them clean away from my body in the parking lot.

Knowing we’d be drinking, Gage had a car service booked to take us here and drop us at home when the night is over. The four of us wait silently on the curb with no words to erase the rigid tension after they witnessed my run-in with my dad.

The night air is still muggy and hot despite the late hour. An overcast sky blocks the moonlight, and every so often, spits of moisture fall in light patters against my skin. Convinced I’moverheating, I grasp the front of my shirt and fan it away from my burning skin. Warren’s back straightens, and he eyes the club door with a wrinkle in his forehead.

I turn to see what stole his attention. I wish I hadn’t.

“You’re going to have to wait here until the taxi arrives,” the security guard says. His hand is hooked through my dad’s elbow—both to keep him upright and to prevent him from dashing back into the building for another round. It’s a chilling sight, just after my friends did the same exact thing to me.

Monty grumbles and somehow rights himself to stand on his own after pushing off the security guard’s hand. “I don’t needa babysitter.”

“Once your cab gets here?—”

“Beat it, will ya?” Monty shakes his head and brushes off the front of his pants. He hacks a cough and flips off the security guard.

“Suit yourself.”

I turn away to fully ignore him and scan the road beyond the rows of parked cars for the black SUV that dropped us off here. Until I hear a set of keys jingle, that is.

“That’s not going to end well,” Gage mumbles.

We all watch Monty cross the pavement. He clumsily weaves his way through several vehicles before stopping next to a beat-up Ranger in the furthest row. He can humiliate himself one drink at a time for all I care. But I’m not sure I have it in me to take a front-row seat to watch him kill himself or someone else on the road.

I heave a sigh and trudge toward him, half sobered up from the events that took place inside. Heston puts a hand on my chest to stop me.

“I got it,” he offers.

My eyes flick to Monty as he attempts to shove the keys in the door and unlock it. “Don’t bother. I’ll get the keys and be right back.”

Hate is a strong word to describe my feelings about the things I’ve seen and heard from my dad since meeting him such a short time ago. But the emotion fits. Even as I close in on saving him from making a monumental mistake, the deep hatred remains lodged in my chest.

I thought I was going to catch him in time, but when he somehow rigs his keys in the door, unlocks it, and fires up the truck, I’m still not close enough. My legs pick up into a run, but his door closes, and the brake lights flicker on just as fast.

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