lightheaded.”
“Kissing boys’ll do that,” Brianna said, and Natalie shook her head and said, “How you know these things, I’ll never figure out.”
“Nice guy?”
“Really nice.”
“Glad.”
“Me, too.”
A few minutes later Brianna pulled the Ford into the driveway. She’d left the porch light on, but you couldn’t see the peeling paint in the darkness.
Home.
And huddled on the front step, the devil who had come to spoil it all.
• • •
“I need to start carrying Mace.”
Richard could hear Brianna’s voice carry down the sidewalk, which he guessed he was fully supposed to do.
“I’m going to let the dogs out,” Natalie said. “Good night, Brianna.” She went past him up the steps. She wore an evening gown and looked like a princess. Also acted a bit like one. “Good night, Richard.”
He heard her unlock the front door and go inside, while Brianna stood on the sidewalk, hands on her hips, and glared at him. She was wearing a plain black dress, looking like a Fury.
You should try the princess approach
, he knew a lot better than to say to her.
I can rescue myself,
she would have said, even when she was thirteen.
He guessed the two of them had just come from some shindig put on by the museum where Brianna worked. Since Brianna wasn’t all dolled up like Natalie, that meant she’d probably been in charge of the production. If he were like any other father, he would know where they had gone and why because it was the kind of thing people talked about in families.
Suddenly he was very tired. It must be close to midnight.
About to turn into a pumpkin,
Chrissy used to say with a laugh, slurring her words. He rubbed his hand over his face.
“That Natalie, she’s a good kid.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And she told me you didn’t want her to know but you’re behind on the house payment.”
He could see her stiffen from where he sat, taking it like he’d slapped her. “I sent a payment to the mortgage company,” he said. “Cleared up the arrears and got next month’s in ahead of time. That’ll give you a little breathing room.”
“I don’t want your goddamned help,” she said, and stomped up the porch stairs, barely avoiding stomping on his hand.
“I know you don’t, Bree,” he said. “But I can’t give you those years back. I can’t. Much as I wish I could. And you don’t want nothing to do with me, I see that. I don’t blame you. Not at all. But I’m your daddy, and I gotta do something.”
He stood up and turned to look at her. She was facing the door, and even though he couldn’t see her expression, he could read her back; he could see she was tense with the desire to say something.
Kiss off,
or
go to hell,
or whatever it was. Then her shoulders slumped and she said, “If you got the money from holding up a liquor store, I will kill you myself.”
That was better. Vintage Brianna, but better than
go to hell.
Man couldn’t do much with
go to hell.
“I told you I got a job.”
She turned to look at him. “Doing what? Wal-Mart greeter?”
“Now, Bree,” he said. “Turns out I’m good with computers. I’ve been in IT since I got sober.”
That seemed to confound her. He supposed she remembered when he couldn’t keep a job for more than six weeks.
“All right,” she said. “When are you going back to where the job is? You must’ve used up your vacation time by now.”
“The job is in LA,” he said. “I own the company, so I can sort of take off when I want.”
“Don’t bother,” she said, but she wasn’t nearly as wound up as she’d been the first time she saw him. Maybe she was softening toward him. Or not. Hard to tell. But he guessed he’d find out.
Now was the little bit harder part. “That little Toyota parked at the curb, I want you to have that.” He held up the keys.
“No,” she said, and shoved open the front door.
“Honey, that Ford you’re driving is a deathtrap. It gives me heart palpitations just thinking about
“Kissing boys’ll do that,” Brianna said, and Natalie shook her head and said, “How you know these things, I’ll never figure out.”
“Nice guy?”
“Really nice.”
“Glad.”
“Me, too.”
A few minutes later Brianna pulled the Ford into the driveway. She’d left the porch light on, but you couldn’t see the peeling paint in the darkness.
Home.
And huddled on the front step, the devil who had come to spoil it all.
• • •
“I need to start carrying Mace.”
Richard could hear Brianna’s voice carry down the sidewalk, which he guessed he was fully supposed to do.
“I’m going to let the dogs out,” Natalie said. “Good night, Brianna.” She went past him up the steps. She wore an evening gown and looked like a princess. Also acted a bit like one. “Good night, Richard.”
He heard her unlock the front door and go inside, while Brianna stood on the sidewalk, hands on her hips, and glared at him. She was wearing a plain black dress, looking like a Fury.
You should try the princess approach
, he knew a lot better than to say to her.
I can rescue myself,
she would have said, even when she was thirteen.
He guessed the two of them had just come from some shindig put on by the museum where Brianna worked. Since Brianna wasn’t all dolled up like Natalie, that meant she’d probably been in charge of the production. If he were like any other father, he would know where they had gone and why because it was the kind of thing people talked about in families.
Suddenly he was very tired. It must be close to midnight.
About to turn into a pumpkin,
Chrissy used to say with a laugh, slurring her words. He rubbed his hand over his face.
“That Natalie, she’s a good kid.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And she told me you didn’t want her to know but you’re behind on the house payment.”
He could see her stiffen from where he sat, taking it like he’d slapped her. “I sent a payment to the mortgage company,” he said. “Cleared up the arrears and got next month’s in ahead of time. That’ll give you a little breathing room.”
“I don’t want your goddamned help,” she said, and stomped up the porch stairs, barely avoiding stomping on his hand.
“I know you don’t, Bree,” he said. “But I can’t give you those years back. I can’t. Much as I wish I could. And you don’t want nothing to do with me, I see that. I don’t blame you. Not at all. But I’m your daddy, and I gotta do something.”
He stood up and turned to look at her. She was facing the door, and even though he couldn’t see her expression, he could read her back; he could see she was tense with the desire to say something.
Kiss off,
or
go to hell,
or whatever it was. Then her shoulders slumped and she said, “If you got the money from holding up a liquor store, I will kill you myself.”
That was better. Vintage Brianna, but better than
go to hell.
Man couldn’t do much with
go to hell.
“I told you I got a job.”
She turned to look at him. “Doing what? Wal-Mart greeter?”
“Now, Bree,” he said. “Turns out I’m good with computers. I’ve been in IT since I got sober.”
That seemed to confound her. He supposed she remembered when he couldn’t keep a job for more than six weeks.
“All right,” she said. “When are you going back to where the job is? You must’ve used up your vacation time by now.”
“The job is in LA,” he said. “I own the company, so I can sort of take off when I want.”
“Don’t bother,” she said, but she wasn’t nearly as wound up as she’d been the first time she saw him. Maybe she was softening toward him. Or not. Hard to tell. But he guessed he’d find out.
Now was the little bit harder part. “That little Toyota parked at the curb, I want you to have that.” He held up the keys.
“No,” she said, and shoved open the front door.
“Honey, that Ford you’re driving is a deathtrap. It gives me heart palpitations just thinking about
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