Page 38 of Sinful as They Come
But I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. Dad spun me around and pushed me up against the wall, that grin still on his face. He was shaky on his feet. That meant he was drunk, but when wasn’t he?
“What the fuck do you want? You wanna destroy more of my stuff?”
“You… You don’t turn your back on me like that,” he spat out. “Not when I’m talking to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wanna fight over this? Really? Is this how youwanna spend your afternoon? You don’t have a few more bottles to empty?”
His fists clenched at my shirt tighter, holding me right up against the wall. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I could see the glazed look in his eyes. He was going to pass out any minute with how much beer he had been chugging all day. His slurred speech and the empty bottles near the lounge confirmed that fact.
“You tryna impress your little girlfriend or something?” he asked lowly. “She ain’t here, kid. So why are you tryna act like a big man?”
“She’s not my fuckinggirlfriend. I just told you that a minute ago – or are you so drunk you’re forgetting shit already?” I scowled at him when he pulled me forward an inch, only to shove me backwards, my head hitting the wall.
All that did was make me angrier. I didn’t like putting my hands on my dad, but I had done that before and would do it again if I had to. He was an easy target. But I’d always defend myself when it came down to it: just like I told Holly.
“You always fucking talk back. Just like your mother. She should have taken you with her. It’s a shame she hated the sight of your fucking face so much.” He chuckled.
I pushed at him. Hard. He stumbled backwards before getting his footing back. He threw a punch that I easily dodged. Then another one. Then one more. I was tempted to hit him back. To smash my fist into his chin and send him into a daze. But he just looked so fucking pathetic in front of me that all I could do was watch him.
“Fight me like a real man,” he slurred. “Fight me. Hit me. Hit me as hard as you can. Bet I’m still here standing.”
“Get the hell away from me,” I mumbled. I shoved past him, but he pulled at my shoulder like earlier so I was facing him. I breathed heavy, staring down at him, looking down into his eyes. They looked just like mine. Bright green. But his were all murky and fuzzy. “I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“You’re a pussy. You’re too scared to fight me. You can’t fight your old man. You know I’d kick your ass. You know I’d make you fucking cry.”
“This make you feel like a big man? Huh? Begging your own son to fight him while you’re drunk out of your fucking mind? That make you feel good?” I asked with gritted teeth.
“Pussy,” he repeated. “Bet you’re too scared to ask that pretty, little gal out. What, you think you have a chance with her? Bet you she thinks you’re pathetic. Bet… Bet she thinks you’re not good enough. You don’t have a fuckin’ chance, you little—”
My fist bawled up and it met his eyes before I could control myself. All I saw was red. Red that mixed in with the insecurities I very much liked to keep bottled up. Dad fell backwards, hitting the back of one of the dining chairs. That was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes darkened as he looked at me, looking even more pissed off, but all he did was let out a heavy breath. He stayed there, slumped on the floor,
“You should be happy I even let you… Let you live under my fucking roof,” he let out.
“You forgetting who pays rent, asshole?”
“Little bitch. Get the fuck outta here. Putting your hands on your old man. What kinda fucking son…”
I watched as he mumbled under his breath, his words suddenly going even more incoherent. His eyes shut and I rolled my own. That didn’t take long. He’d be out for the next few hours, and I had to get to fucking work.
The shop was only a few minutes from the trailer park. Despite only being eighteen, Marve was more than happy to let me work on cars for some spare cash.
My eyes looked to the clock. I was already running late. I grabbed my leather jacket, swung it on, and shoved the door open. My dad would drink more when he woke up and give me more shit when I got back home. That could be dealt with later.
It was only a ten-minute drive to Marve’s. My hands held the steering wheel tight as I made my way there, counting how many new pot holes appeared on the road.
Marve’s shop was in the middle of town – but the spot had been picked on purpose. You had to drive past it to get anywhere good, meaning wegot more customers. I was the youngest guy there, but most of the other mechanics had no issue with me thanks to my experience.
“Anything completely fucked?” was the first thing I asked Marve after entering the main building of the shop. The place wasn’t too busy for a Monday afternoon. Only a couple of people were in the waiting area.
Marve smiled at me, his blond hair long and messy. “You need a distraction, huh?”
“Big time.” I didn’t want to think about my dad. Or Holly. She was always around now and I needed to get her out of my life already. Thanks Brodie…
“Nothing too damaged today.” Marve shrugged, stepping from behind the desk. “You got some rich guy’s car that came in this morning: a fancy ass Mercedes. You wanna finish that up? He’ll be here in about an hour or two.”
“Yeah, it’s mine.” I gave Marve a nod, pushing my way through the office door and around to the shop. I stopped a couple times to greet a few of the other guys before I zeroed in on the Mercedes.
The black car was very clearly out of place when compared to almost every other vehicle I was looking at. About once a week, we had some rich guy come in. Marve was the only honest mechanic in the city, and rich guys had the habit of wanting to hold on to their cash as much as they could. So they would wonder on in, looking to keep that wealth.
