SAINT
"What are you doing?"
"What do you mean, Pop?"
"With that girl in there. What are you doing? What was that Georgetown comment all about? You've got about three minutes to explain before she comes back from the bathroom."
"It's something between me and her."
"Did you knock her up?"
"No, Dad."
"Did she go to college with you? Is she saying you two have a love child stashed away somewhere?"
"Dad, are you watching Lifetime movies again?"
"I can tell she's a nice girl," my mother interjects. Always the voice of calm and reason.
"She is."
"She's a looker too," she says.
"She is."
"You meet a lot of lookers though," my father adds.
"Not like this one."
"So you're interested in her?"
"I think so."
"I don't think she gives a rat's ass about you."
"She will."
"Did I make you this cocky?" my father asks incredulously.
"Yeah," my mother chuckles. "I think it's inherited."
"So you signed with Carson for a girl?" my father asks as if it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever done. Which it hardly ranks up there with some of the other shit I've pulled.
"That about sums it up."
"Then you're crazy, not stupid."
"I guess."
"Crazy I can live with."
"Thanks, Dad. I think."
"Shh, she's coming back," my mother whispers.
Sabrina walks quietly back into the room while staring at all three of us. I wonder how much of our conversation she heard. I can't read her expression at all.
"Can I talk to you for a minute, Saint?"
