I barely made it around the corner before the red and blue lights hit me, and I was knocked to the ground so hard that all the wind whooshed out of my lungs in a single breath.
“Fuck,” I gritted out, barely able to catch my breath.
“Don’t move!” A familiar face appeared above me, gun trained, ready to fire if I made the wrong decision.
Then it slightly wavered, and you could hear the deflation in his tone. “Goddamn it, Wesley. Not again.” His disappointment spoke volumes about how he really felt about me.
He grabbed me by my collar, forcing me to my feet. “I should’ve known it would be you. Goddamn it! You’re not even old enough to fucking drive,” he growled, whispering so only I could hear him.
“But I do it so well, Pops.”
My dad looked at his partner and shrugged. “This is my bad seed.”
“Are we booking him?” his partner, Officer Mossimo, questioned.
“For what?” I challenged, though I somehow knew they already knew what I was running from.
“Breaking and entering.”
“What did I enter?”
Technicalities were a criminal’s best friend.
“Someone matching your description was seen trying to boost a car up the street,” my father informed me.
“Well, damn. Sucks to be them.”
The second I tried to move, my father’s grip tightened. “This isn’t funny, Wesley. This isn’t some kind of game. You’re one bad decision away from ending up in juvie. Do you want that?”
I shrugged. “If I end up in juvie, at least you won’t have to pretend to like me in front of your friends anymore.” My gaze darted toward Officer Mossimo, who shifted uncomfortably.
You could see the reluctance in my father’s eyes. The bitter resentment he had for me since he found out my mother cheated on him right around my conception. Am I his biological child? Who knows? But he sure treated me like the bastard son he’d made me out to be.
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is your assumption that I have something to do with the attempted Grand Theft Maserati up the street.”
My father’s glare intensified. “I never said it was a Maserati, Wesley.”
“Fuck.”
He immediately started fishing out his cuffs.
“Dad, come on. I’m your son. Are you really going to arrest me?”
The cuffs were placed on me before I could protest.
“Guess that answers my question.”
“I can’t keep covering for you, Wesley. You gotta learn your lessons sometime.” I met his glare with too much hostility. His eyes darkened, anger building to the point of eruption.
“I didn’t even do anything!” I protested, trying to wiggle out of my cuffs as they pushed me toward the squad car.
“Third time's a charm,” my father argued, his voice gruff and void of any emotion.
The last thing I saw before they locked me away and threw away the key was the girl standing on her porch as we drove past. Her terrified eyes met mine through the tinted glass, her attempt to save me thwarted by my own flesh and blood.
At least she tried.
