I squeeze her hand, flashing her a grin, and as we clear the stairs, I find my father on the floor with Toast Malone rolling around with him on one side, and Lucky cuddled up to her grandfather on his other side.
“Hey, Dad.”
Dad sits up, his weathered face breaking into a wide, shit-eating grin as he looks from me to Hannah and then down to our joined hands.
Pushing up to his feet, my father wipes his hands over the back of his low-slung ripped jeans, coming toward us in all his heavily tattooed and pierced glory, the Siouxie and The Banshees t-shirt he’s wearing so old and worn it’s practically threadbare. He rakes a hand through his overgrown jet-black box-dyed hair, the trademark smile he’s perfected, the one women still drop panties for even now, thirty years later, highlighting his dimples.
“Well, well, well,” Dad says, looking Hannah over with serious regard. “Who do we have here?”
Hannah hesitates, glancing sideways at me before smiling up at my father. “H-Hannah. Draper.”
“Hannah Draper,” Dad muses, scratching his chin. He looks at me and winks, and my stomach dips because I just know he’s about to say or do something highly inappropriate.
Holding out his hand, nails painted electric blue, chunky rings adorning every one of his tattooed fingers, Dad offers Hannah another appraising once over like the old pervert he is. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the honor of running into one of Happy’sfriends…”
Hannah looks awkward as hell, and I throw my head back on a groan.
“This one’s cute, Hap.” Dad nudges me. “You should keep her around.”
“Dude, you are sixty-three years old. Can you be normal for, like, once in your life?” I spear him with a half-assed narrow-eyed glower. I love my dad. He’s my best friend, but man, the guy knows how to press my buttons.
“I’m just playing with you, Hannah.” Dad chuckles. “Jonny Slater.”
“Hi…” Hannah smiles nervously, shaking my father’s hand.
Dad moves to me, pulling me into an embrace with a murmured, “Good job, Hap.”
I roll my eyes, returning his hug with a few slaps on his back.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I pull away, placing my hand on the small of Hannah’s back in a show of support she seems to need right now.
“Hey! Since when does your old man need an excuse to come visit his favorite person in the whole damn world?”
“He’s talking aboutme,” Lucky says with a sassy smile, sidling up next to my father and resting her cheek against the side of his jean-clad thigh. When Dad’s in town, I’m immediately demoted to the spare human in Lucky’s eyes.
“Damn straight, Lucky girl.” Dad reaches down and hikes Lucky into the air, positioning her onto his shoulders so she towers above us, squealing with glee.
“So, how long are you staying for?” I ask. I mean, technicallythe place belongs to him, but the man does have a habit of overstaying his welcome.
Dad looks to Hannah with wide eyes and scoffs exasperatedly. “Jeeze, dude.” He snorts, turning back to me. “Way to make me feel welcome.”
I roll my eyes again. “You know what I mean. Last time you were here, you stayed for three months and you ran out of underpants and started stealing mine… like you’re not a multi-platinum selling musician who can afford to go and buy his own skivvies.”
Dad laughs out loud. “I’ll be gone in a week, my dude,” he assures me with a pat on my shoulder. “I’ve got a good thing going with a French woman. A model. I’m flying out to see her next week.”
“Oh yeah?” I smirk. “How old’s this one?”
“I’ll have you know she’s thirty-four and fine as fu?—”
I clear my throat loudly, interjecting his profanity and looking up at Lucky, still perched on his shoulders.
“Fudge,” he says, holding his hands up in defense. “Fine asfudge.”
“I like fudge!” Lucky chirps, innocently.
Dad chuckles. “Me too, cutie pie. Me too.”
“Well, I hope you brought enough underpants,” is all I say.
