“Police!” my father bellows. “Police, help!”
Fuck.
Fuuuuuck.
Sheriff’s deputies are here.
Where did they come from?
Oh, god.
No.
No.
People are filming us.
Bea’s going to see this.
Margot’s going to see this.
The deputies converge on Oliver and pull him off the security agent while he thrashes about, and I see everything as it’s about to happen.
They’ll arrest him.
He has a fake ID.
I have no ID.
My father will win.
He’ll fuckingwin.
Again.
I’m crying.
I don’t even realize I’ve started crying, but I am.
I’m full-on sobbing.
“Let him go,” I say to the deputies who are still trying to get a solid grip on Oliver.
“Daph, get off,” the security agent says.
He’s familiar.
I think he’s traveled with Margot a time or two. I tend to ignore anything that reminds me that she’s still supported by our family when she comes to visit, and she’s never made a fuss about it.
“Arrest him,” my father spits. He’s pressing a handkerchief to his nose. “I’m pressing charges.”
“No,” I yelp as I finally slide off the other security guy.
“He assaulted me.”
Shit.
Shit.
