I’m so damn drowsy I listen to her. I’m nodding off in the next few seconds as she turns and heads up to her (our) room.
It’s only a few hours later that I’m waking up again. My phone starts vibrating in the pocket of my jeans.
Somebody’s calling me.
Still half asleep, I dig my hand into my pocket and pull it out, squinting at the Caller ID. It’s a number I don’t recognize, though the area code matches Pulsboro.
Who could this be? One of the guys calling about club business? Did something go down last night?
As president, it’s exactly the kind of thing that would happen. I’d be the first notified. I tap the green button to answer the call, holding the phone up to my ear.
I’m expecting somebody’s deep voice, like Bush or Big Eddie or even Johnny Flanagan. Instead, the first sound is a soft, warbling cry.
“Is this…” comes the sobbing voice. “Is this Silver?”
Female. Youthful. Maybe early- to mid-twenties.
“Speaking,” I rasp. “Who is this?”
There’s hesitation on the other end. A pause that goes on for a second or two, like she’s second-guessing her decision to call me.
“It’s, um, it’s Solana. Big Eddie’s niece,” she says. “I was wondering… I just… can you please come get me?”
3
SILVER
It takesme almost an hour to reach Wheaton.
Solana pin dropped the location, which seems to be some kind of college housing a few blocks down from Wheaton University. I don’t know much about her, other than what I’ve learned in passing from Big Eddie and Moses and the few details she had revealed weeks ago when I gave her a ride home.
Solana Youngblood is twenty. She’s a junior in college, majoring in Theater Studies. She’s the only female left in the Youngblood family, and she’s made a recent habit of getting herself into trouble. On New Year’s Eve, as she reluctantly climbed into my truck, she let it slip that it wasn’t the first time she’d ordered drinks at a bar.
I had cocked a brow at her and asked her if Eddie knew about this. Arms folding in her lap, she fell into disgruntled silence after that.
I hadn’t mentioned giving her a ride that night. I could’ve easily told Eddie and Moses about it the next day at the saloon, but I refrained from doing so, figuring it had been a harmlessploy. It wasn’t like I hadn’t already been drinking when I was her age, and shewasonly a few months shy of twenty-one.
As she hopped out of my truck and muttered a quickthanksfor the ride, I told her it wasn’t a problem. She could always reach out if she needed one.
The offer was genuine, but I had no idea she would do so again this soon. Let alone during the early hours of Sunday morning, which means she must’ve gone out last night. She must’ve gone where most college-aged kids do on a Saturday night. Some sort of party or bar.
I’m not judging. I’m not her father, even if I’m old enough to be.
But Iamconcerned after hearing how upset she sounded. The distress in her voice was clear. She’d been crying and could barely get a word out, stammering over herself.
The first thing I had asked her was if she was at a safe location. She’d hiccuped ayes, sounding both tipsy and on the verge of more tears. Then I asked her if she was hurt, to which she told meno.
She just needed me.
Her exact words, spoken so plainly and softly it tugged at something deep within my chest.
I was once a husband, and I’ll always be a father. My protective instinct is strong. It comes naturally before I can ever snuff it out.
“Stay put,” I had told her. “I’ll be there within the hour, Solana.”
My calm yet resolute promise seemed to soothe her in some way. She sniffled and thanked me.
Now, as I cross the town border over into Wheaton, the GPS on my phone tells me I’m less than five minutes away. It’s not even six a.m. yet, which means the town is virtually dead. Veryfew cars occupy the roads as I flick on my turn signal and make the left that’ll lead me to the address Solana gave.
