“There’s a lot at stake here, Lance. I think we should give it a try. Look, we can give him the money tonight, and thentomorrow we go to the cops and get them to help your mother file an emergency restraining order. Heck, tomorrow, we can dig a hole six feet deep, I can load my .45 Colt, and we can take him out together, but tonight—” he took a deep breath, “tonight we just need to get his sorry ass out of your mother’s house.”
Lance laughed. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the adrenaline, mixed with the euphoria of having Tanner by his side. Whatever it was, he just—he fucking laughed. Tanner looked perplexed, not understanding how any of this was remotely funny.
Lance turned to Tanner and asked, “You ever dug a hole that deep, Army?”
“Oh, fuck off. My brother-in-law has a fancy excavator. That motherfucker is good for digging 10-foot holes, no sweat. We can borrow it. Call it—premium lawn care!”
Lance chuckled at the ridiculousness of Tanner’s offer.
As they pulled into the driveway, nothing looked out of place or unusual. The porch light was on, and three cars were parked in the driveway. No outward sign of trouble and nothing to indicate that there was a-piece-of-shit-father in the house causing problems. No screams, no shouts. Just a nice, peaceful night in the neighbourhood. It was such a stark contrast to what heknewwas happening inside, that he slammed the car door for effect. Standing there silently, Tanner just waited for Lance to take the lead.
He didn’t knock. He walked in, shoulders back, fully prepared to face the nightmare waiting for him.
And there he was. His tall, bulky frame taking up half of the couch, sitting in plain view of the entryway. Loud and crass, with his hauntingly familiar drunken pattern of speech, lecturing his sons.
Lance didn’t slow down. Didn’t stop to question his next move. Acting purely on instinct, he strode confidently into the living room as his father was in the middle of another bullshit spiel about money.
“I’m just saying—” he was rambling, pointing one wavering finger at his sons, as they sat there thoroughly confused. “It’s an investment. You have to look at it like—”
“Get up!” Lance barked like a drill sergeant, talking over top of him, as he intentionally blocked his father’s view of Jeremy and Parker.
“Junior,” the man grinned evilly, sitting back on the couch, spreading out his arms to make himself appear larger.
“Get. Up.” Lance repeated slowly and loudly.
“I’m just—” he paused to hiccup, “we were just talking, now weren’t we, my boys?” he asked, leaning around Lance to wink conspiratorially at Jeremy and Parker.
“It’s fine, Lan—” Parker tried to intervene, but Lance cut him off.
“Don’t,” he snapped, not taking his eyes off his asshat father.
“Now—” his dad began again, extending his hands in front of him as he struggled to his feet. It was a difficult task, considering his state of inebriation. He grabbed Lance’s shoulder for balance, but Lance pushed him off, causing the old man to stumble. He fell against the arm of the couch and regained his footing.
“I see you’ve still got the temper of your worthless bitch of a mother,” he sneered, standing upright again.
For a moment, Lance was flooded with memories of scenes from his childhood. Impossibly small and outmatched yet having to always stand on his own.
“Dad! You can’t—” Parker started speaking again, but Lance raised a hand, motioning for Parker to back off.
“You’d best leave now,” Lance advised calmly, pointing towards the front door. He did not want to be baited into a physical altercation with his piece of shit father.
“Or what?” the man taunted with a sickening grin. “What are you and your—” he hiccupped again—“little pansy boyfriend going to do?” he asked, nodding towards Tanner standing at the entrance of the living room.
Lance froze, taken aback by his father’s knowledge of his relationship with Tanner. How did he find out? It wasn’t like he’d placed a fucking ad in the newspaper.
“Your brother told me all about your sick little freak fest,” he snarled in disgust. “Couldn’t quite believe it. Had to see my faggot son for myself.”
Lance suddenly realized how ridiculously pathetic and almost comical this scene was. He burst out laughing. Just like he did earlier in the car, except this time there was no release of tension or anxiety. Instead, he felt a deep-seated anger rise from his core.
“Why are you here?” he snarled demandingly. “Money? Booze? What? What the fuck do you want?”
“Came to see my two boys—” he said dismissively, waving Lance’s questions away like he was way off the mark.
Lance turned to his brothers with a laser-like focus.
“What did he want?” he snapped. Parker shook his head mutely, but Jeremy spoke up right away.
“Money. He asked for money,” Jeremy replied in a subdued voice, arms wrapped around himself defensively.
