"I'm going to jump in the shower. Don't touch the chili, okay?" I call out. "It needs to simmer for a little while."
From across the room, shegives me a sing-song reply, spinning in circles like she doesn’t have a single worry in the world.
God, that must be nice.
She’s still singing when I step into the shower, her voice carrying over the weak water pressure. I try to wash up quickly, but the heat of the water and the smooth scent of vanilla soap make me want to stay until every one of my tightly coiled muscles finally relaxes.
If only Taylor had picked another weekend to visit. If she had just called ahead, I would have explained how busy I was, how much stress I was under with the grand opening looming. I would have?—
The sudden ringing of my phone jars me out of my thoughts. I groan, shutting off the water.
As I grab a towel and start to dry off, my phone rings three more times. The apartment issilent now. No more singing.
Weird.Maybe Taylor’s calling to ask when I’ll be done.
But when I glance at the screen, it’s a number I don’t recognize.
I hesitate, then answer. "Hello?"
A voice crackles through the line, low and gravelly. "Hey, Lucky."
I squeeze my eyes shut as the water from my hair drips onto the bathroom floor. I sigh heavily and cringe, pressing the phone tighter against my ear. "Hey, Dad."
"I'm gonna need you to help me out with some more money this week." His tone is flat. Not a request, not even a plea. Just a statement, like he’s informing me of something that’s already decided. Like I don’t have a choice.
But I do. And I can’t help him. I have about two hundred dollars to my name right now.
In the background, I hear muffled voices, the low hum of distant conversation. Dad exhales sharply. “Lucky, listen real close now, okay? I’m just borrowing some money temporarily. That’s all.”
I don't like his tone. It sends a prickle of unease down my spine, like I’m about to become the main character in some twistedDatelineepisode.
"Dad, I told you. Ican’t." My voice is firm, but my stomach is tight. "I don’t have any more to give you. Now, I have to go. I was in the shower."
"Lucky," he says, his voice darkening. "I just need a moment for you to listen to me, okay? It’s nothing. Nothing big. But I gotta have some money."
I swallow hard.
“One of your ‘nothing’ moments always turns into something huge, Vick.” My fingers clamp around my towel. “I don’t have much left to give you.”
A beat of silence.
Then, his voice drops lower. “Well, Lucky,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna have to come up with something.”
Chapter Two
“Seriously? You're actually related to that trainwreck?” Mike, the bartender, yells over the deafening cheers of a completely captivated crowd.
My sister has somehow turned herself into the main event, dancing on top of a table and single-handedly redefining the termtable mannerswith her cringe-worthy dance moves.
I sigh, stirring the remnants of diced fruit and ice in my sangria with a straw. "Yep, same father," I confirm with a shrug before spearing an apple slice and taking a bite. I’m on my third drink, trying desperately to forget my father’s phone call from earlier.
Mike leans against the bar, shaking his head. "Out of all the bars and hotels near the boardwalk, why did you have to bring her here, on your night off?"
“Believe me,” I mutter, taking another sip, “this wasn’t my idea.”
I’m way out of my element right now. This bar is toopeopleyfor me. I like it when there are, at most, four people here. A large crowd of strangers is called ano thanksin my book.
Mike refills my glass, still watching Taylor with equal parts amusement and concern. “If she loses any more clothes, we can charge a cover price at the door,” he laughs.
