Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
But on the other hand, I have to go see my dad today, and that’s something I really do not want to do. To put it in perspective, if I had a choice between going to see my dad and dunking myself in a pit of greasy pythons, I’d take the pit of greasy pythons.
There were a lot of kids in high school who were jealous of me for having a mob boss as a father. They thought it was like having Michael Corleone, the Godfather, as my dad or something. They thought it was just a lot of living the rich life, being spoiled, getting whatever I wanted, going on vacations, and things like that. And while they were right about parts of my life being like that, they had no idea about the other parts– the parts where my dad completely controlled everything I did, every friend I had, every party I was allowed to go to.
Even when I was allowed to go out, I had to be accompanied by security. It’s an absolute miracle that my mom and I were even able to get away from him at all. The only reason we were was because of a fearless divorce lawyer who wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with him. I still suspect there’s more to it than just the legal system, but I’ve never fully asked my mom about it.
Still, I’m basically required to go visit my dad when he wants me to. It used to be every week, but I put up enough of a fuss that he’s actually been getting more lax about that.
“I’m leaving now, Mom,” I say, as I come downstairs into the living room. She’s sitting with Carson, who looks up but doesn’t say anything. He just gives me a smile. I guess he knows, wisely, that this is probably something I don’t want to discuss with him at this point. And he’s right.
My mom gets up from the couch and comes over to give me a hug. “It’ll be all right, honey. He just got back from vacation. He’ll be in a good mood.”
“Yeah, either that or he’ll be all riled up and obnoxious.” I shrug. “We’ll see.”
I purposefully don’t see or say anything to Blake before leaving. I know he’ll be right there for me with something amazing to say, doing his best to put me at ease, and I love him for that. But at the same time, I don’t want to poison the wonderful relationship he and I have together so far that includes just us and nothing more. I don’t want to bring my toxic father into this just yet. I just want to go and see him, then come home to Blake and throw myself into his arms – or something like that.
And that’s all I envision as I drive to my father’s house, which is a long drive away from my new home where I’d much prefer to spend the day.
I pull up to the gate and show my face to the little screen and am immediately recognized. The gate slides slowly open, and I pull in and park in front of the house where two armed men in suits nod politely as I step out. I’m pretty sure I recognize one of them.
Can’t even come outside to meet me, eh, Dad?
I open the door and step inside. There’s a new samurai sword on display in the foyer, which is undoubtedly authentic and must have cost a fortune. Dad probably picked it up on his trip.
A woman who looks like an Eastern European pageant winner passes me, wearing a very elegant sea-green dress. She glances over at me, smiles, then walks in the direction of the kitchen.
My dad. Pageant winner beauties making his meals for him.
“Luna?” I hear his voice call out from his office. “Is that you, honey?”
A pit forms in the center of my stomach. I roll my eyes but don’t even bother responding, just start walking in the direction of his room. I glance back over my shoulder at the sword as I go. I wonder if it’s sharp enough that even a girl like me could cut him in half with it.
My dad’s sitting in his chair with both feet up on his desk, lighting a cigar when I come in. He looks up and smiles. There was a time, when I was much younger, that his smiles meant something to me. But that time is long gone.
“Hey there, honey. How the hell are ya?”
I shrug. “Eh, you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” he replies, dragging his cigar. “That’s why I’m asking.” He motions to the chair in front of his desk. “Come on, have a seat. Don’t be a stranger.”
The last thing I want to do is sit and give him a chance to drag this on longer than it needs to be, but I know if I don’t, he’ll get really irritated. So I take a seat and try not to look like I don’t want to be here.