Prodigal Son(14)

“My name’s Luke Callaway,” I answered.

“Well, that answers one question,” Sable replied. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You can either try, or I’m heading back inside,” she said, staring me square in the eye.

“Do you mind if I pull into your driveway and get out?” I asked, unwilling to have a conversation while I was leaning over the passenger’s seat.

Sable studied me for a moment. “That’s fine. But I want you to know that I’m armed.”

She pulled her leather jacket out so that I could see a holster holding a handgun. I was a little surprised that a woman would wear a gun to get the mail, but given the fact that her husband was a biker, maybe she spent time with a rougher crew than I imagined. I pulled forward and decided that I was going to take a deep breath and tell her that I was her son. In the few seconds that I had to think, I realized that she might not take the news well, and I pulled out one of my business cards from the case I kept in the glove box. If she ordered me off the property, I wanted her to have a way to get in touch with me if she had second thoughts.

I got out of the car and held the card out in front of me. “Here’s my card,” I said, waiting to give her time to read it.

She took the card cautiously and looked it over. “So what does a ‘Business Analyst’ from Scottsdale want with me?” Her gaze was direct and challenging.

I fumbled around for the right words. “I’m not here in a business capacity.” I hesitated before going any further.

“You’ve got about fifteen seconds to tell me what ‘capacity’ you’re here in, or I’m going back inside. Spit it out.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m your son.”

Sable didn’t move a muscle. She looked me up and down, taking in every detail before coming to rest on my face. She studied me, and I stood still, uncomfortable under her gaze, but unwilling to disturb what had to be an incredibly tangled mess of thoughts and emotions. She opened her mouth to speak and thought better of it, closing her mouth and continuing her examination.

She finally spoke. “I guess you’d better come inside.”

She started toward the house without looking back, leaving me standing behind her.





Chapter 8


Krystal


Sunday, May 5, 2013

I was glad I hadn’t stayed longer at Luke’s hotel, or at least that’s what I told myself. I was staring at my accounting homework and drinking coffee, grateful to not have a hangover and a headache. I couldn’t help daydreaming about Luke, though. I thought about him — a little drunk the night before — and wished he’d had the guts to kiss me. I wanted him, but I wasn’t going to chase him. If he didn’t understand that a man who takes what he wants is the sexiest thing I could think of, then he wasn’t the guy for me.

My phone chimed to tell me that I had a text message. I dreaded picking up the phone, assuming that it was Bug letting me know that if I played my cards right, he’d let me give him a blow job. Such a romantic.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that the text was from Luke. I agreed to go to the ball game with him, and the grin on my face made me realize how long it had been since I’d actually been happy about seeing a man. Maybe it was finally time for me to rethink my relationship with Bug.

Realizing that my homework wasn’t going to do itself, I forced myself to forget about the tall, blond, sexy man that had walked into my bar last night. I finished the assignment, turned it in online, and remembered that I needed to pay some bills before I got ready for work.

I pulled up my bank account online and realized that there was no way I could pay my car insurance, and my cable and internet that were both due in a couple of days. Even if I deposited my tip money from the night before, I’d still be a little short. When my roommate, Red, had moved out a few weeks before, I’d been so fucking relieved. She was a crank-loving whore, and I’d been happy to see her go. I didn’t know where she’d gone, but I’d been happy that I’d never have to come home to find her having overdosed again.

What I hadn’t calculated was how much money she’d actually paid toward the bills every month. Deciding that I’d just have to work extra hard for tips during my lunch shift, I figured I could probably talk Mark into giving me another shift or two that week. If I was careful, I was pretty sure I could cover at least the two bills that were due right away. I didn’t even want to think about how I was going to pay for my tuition for the summer classes I wanted to take. Maybe I was a fool to even try.