Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
That wouldn’t be my stop.
The bus trudged on, the floor vibrating under my bare feet, until finally it arrived in that part of town where no tourist would ever set foot in. The All-you-can-eat buffets cost only $9,99 around here, not $59. I could afford neither. I swung my backpack over my shoulder. Not that I minded. I’d grown up in areas like these. In Phoenix, Houston, Dallas, Austin…and more other places than I cared to count.
Out of habit I reached into my pocket for a mobile that was no longer there. Mother had sold it for her last dose of crystal meth. Those $20 had been a pity sell, no doubt.
I slipped into my flip-flops, tossed my backpack over my shoulder and waited until most of the other people had left before I stepped off the bus, releasing a long breath. The air was drier than in Austin and it was a few degrees colder, but still not wintery cold. Somehow I felt already freer away from my mother. This was her last shot at therapy. I hoped she’d make it a success. I was stupid for hoping she could.
“Leona?” came a deep voice from somewhere to the right.
I turned, surprised. My father stood a few feet from me. About thirty more pounds on his hips, and less hair on his head. I hadn’t expected him to pick me up. He’d promised to do it, but I knew what a promise from him or my mother was worth. Less than the dirt under my shoes. Perhaps he’d really changed like he’d claimed?
He quickly stubbed out his cigarette under his worn out loafers. The short-sleeved shirt stretched over his pouch. There was an erratic air about him that had me worried.
I smiled. “The one and only.”
I wasn’t surprised he’d had to ask. The last time I’d seen him had been on my fourteenth birthday, more than five years ago. I hadn’t exactly missed him. I’d missed the idea of a father he could never be. Still it was nice to see him again. Perhaps we could start anew.
He came over to me and drew me into an awkward hug. I wrapped my arms around him despite the lingering stench of sweat and smoke. It had been a while since someone had hugged me. He pulled back and scanned me from head to toe. “You’ve grown.” His eyes stopped on my smile. “And your pimples are gone.”
Have been for three years. “Thank god,” I said instead. He pushed his hands into his pockets, as if he was suddenly unsure of what to do with me. “I was surprised when you called.”
I tugged a strand of hair behind my ear, not sure I knew where he was going with this. “You never did,” I said, sounding light-hearted. I hadn’t come to Vegas to dish out guilt Dad had never been a good father, but he’d tried occasionally, even if he always failed. Mother and him, they were both fucked up in their very own way. Their addictions had always been the thing getting in the way of caring for me the way they should have. It would always be like that.
He appraised me. “Are you sure you want to stay with me?”
My smile wavered. Was this what this was all about? He didn’t want me around? I really wished he’d mentioned it before I’d paid for a bus ticket that took me through half the States. He’d said he had won over his addiction, that he had a decent job and a normal life. I wanted to believe him.
“It’s not that I’m not happy to have you with me. I missed you,” he said quickly; too quickly. Lies.
“Then what?” I asked, trying but failing to hide my rising hurt.
“It’s not a good place for a nice girl like you, Leona.”
I laughed. “I’ve never exactly lived in the nice parts of town,” I told him. “I can handle myself.”
“No. It’s different here. Believe me.”
“Don’t worry. I’m good at staying out of trouble.” I’d had years of practice. With a meth-addicted mother who sold anything, even her body, for her next fix, you had to learn to duck your head and mind your own business.
“Sometimes trouble finds you. It happens around here more often than you’d believe.” The way he said it, I worried that trouble was a constant guest in his life.
I sighed. “Honestly, Dad, I’ve lived with a mother who spent most of her days passed out on the sofa and you never worried enough to take me away from her. Now that I’m grown up, you are worried I can’t handle living in the city of sin?”
He looked at me as if he was going to say more but then he finally took my backpack before I could tighten my hold. “You are right.”