“I think I’m having a mental breakdown.” I groan.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Anyways, how are you?”
Dorris goes on about some people who came in last night and got into a big fight. “Are you okay?” Concern lacing my tone.
“I’m fine.” She waves me off. “These big fuckers came in and put a stop to it. Honestly, I think I creamed my panties right there and then.” I shudder at the thought. Gross. “Four big mother fuckers I’m telling you. Look like a pack of tattooed psychopaths. I swear everyone in the room pissed themselves." She cackles. “At first, I was wondering why they were in my bar of all places. But the look of fear on the fucker’s face who started the fight told me that he was the reason.”
“What did you do?”
“I let them take the asshole. He cost me four hundred dollars in damage. You know the cops won’t do shit. At least these guys looked like they would teach him a lesson or two.”
I want to ask more questions, but I think it’s best if I don’t get involved.
“I’m glad you're okay.” I say instead.
“I’m fine. My bank account is not.” She sighs.
Dorris leaves me be as she attends to her other customers. I spend a few more hours getting lost in my own thoughts before reluctantly deciding to head home for the night.
Before Dorris can notice, I grab a few hundreds from my wallet, tossing them on the counter and leave.
The woman has given me a safe place to escape, the least I can do is help her out. She would have refused if I flat out offered it to her.
She might not like handouts, but I think the reason why I’m her favorite customer is because I always leave hefty tips.
I still refuse to use my family's money if I don’t have to, thankfully Crown Well pays a hell of a lot better than my last school did. Living at my father’s mansion, I have a lot more cash to spare.
Feeling good and tipsy, I stumble my way home. The walk is a lot longer than I remember, and by the time I get there, it’s well past midnight.
“Fuck.” I groan, my feet killing me as I stumble into the house. I should have just gone back to my classroom and slept it off like I normally do, but my father would be suspicious. It’s the first day back, so using the excuse of working late won’t work just yet.
I’m halfway down the hall to my room when I hear my father’s voice. “Beckham.” Sighing heavily I turn around.
“I’m tired and I have work in the morning. Can whatever it is wait until the–”
My words are cut off when my eyes land on the man standing behind my father.
His eyes slowly make their way up and down my body before a sleazy smirk takes over his lips that makes my stomach roll with bile.
“Are you drunk again?” My father growls, his look of disappointment has guilt hitting me hard. “I thought we talked about this.”
Unease prickles down my spine as I shift in my spot. I don’t want to talk about this withhimaround. He’s the whole reason why I’m like this in the first place.
“It’s fine.” I grind out through gritted teeth. “Tough first day, that's all. I had a drink to take the edge off.”
“Where’s your car?” My father asks.
Licking my lips I swallow hard. “Back at the school.”
“You walked home.” He growls. “You should have called for a car.”
“It’s a nice night.”
“It’s fucking January. You could have frozen to death.”
Huh. The cold didn’t even register. Maybe I do have a problem.
