The phone stopped ringing, then started up again. I checked the screen on the off chance someone else, someone pleasant, might want to chat with me, but no luck. It was still my father, and it would continue to be my father until I manned up and answered his call. My pointer finger, crusted with cream filling, stuck to the screen as I pushed the talk button.
“Yeah?” I whispered into the receiver, licking my fingers to rid myself of the evidence as if he could somehow see through the phone and bust my ass for breaking the Twinkie rule.
“You are quite possibly the stupidest human on the planet!”
Okay, so… he’d heard. I already knew the script, so I held the phone away from my ear for the rest of his tirade. He would go through the list of all my faults, verbally assaulting me until he had no more vile words to scream. Thankfully I had a quarter of a bottle of Vodka in my system to lessen the sting of his questions.
“Good god, Bodhi, do you have shit for brains?”Yes, that must be it. Someone crapped in my headspace.
“Do you think the universe revolves around your sorry ass?”Well, yes, now that you mention it, I do feel partially responsible for the earth’s rotation.
“Are you just trying to piss me off?” That one was easy.Yes, I was most definitely trying to piss him off.
I closed my eyes, mentally devising ways to kill the man with nothing more than the power of my mind. He was ground zero - the target of all my rage. Tucker Beckett—my father… my manager— the Twinkie Nazi.
* * *
Knowing what was coming, I’d managed to finish off over half of the bottle of vodka before his booming voice and fake laughter penetrated the walls of my sanctuary. Standing up on wobbly legs, I mentally prepared for dear ol’ dad. I’d learned the hard way that dealing with him head on was always preferable to weak waffling, although I wasn’t sure how head on I could be when I was currently well over the legal limit.
“Open up,” my father said, in an easy, conversational tone as he rapped his knuckle on the wood. There was no anger in his voice, never in front of a crowd of strangers, but I knew better. Just under the surface was a boiling volcano. My behavior reflected on him and, at the moment, neither one of us was looking real pretty. One thing I’d realized after being plunged head first into this family drama was that my father’s whole identity rested on me. When I shined, so did he. But now, in my current state of destruction, he was just a shitty dad who’d raised a shitty kid.
Knowing there was no point in dragging this out, I unlocked the door. Instead of waiting for me to allow passage, Tucker pushed his way inside. He didn’t say a word, nor did he have to. The look on his face was murderous. Grabbing the bottle of booze from my hand, he tossed it in the garbage, along with the now empty box of Twinkies. He humored me with the raise of an eyebrow but said nothing about my late night snack attack.
Surprisingly, the loss of my vodka hurt more than I thought it would, triggering a sudden urge to fight for its honor. I lunged for the trash. Quick as a frickin’ ninja, my well-conditioned father kicked the door shut and then pushed me forcefully against the wall. The wind knocked out of me, I struggled to make sense of the sudden violence. Aside from some shoving and the occasional childhood spanking, Tucker didn’t get physical with me and had never crossed the line like this before. To be fair, I’d never given him the chance, always caving to the pressure well before things got out of control.
“This ends now,” he growled under his breath, careful not to let his anger seep through the cracks of the door. God forbid people think he wasn’t the jovial guy he pretended to be. “You, of all people, can’t afford to go down this path.”
“Of all people?What the fuck does that mean?”
His eyes widened like he just realized what he’d said and that pissed him off even more, bringing us right back to where we started. “It means I’ve had enough of your shit.” Tucker grabbed my shirt, pulling me away from the wall before slamming me right back up against it. “You will go through that door, smile for the cameras, and walk out of here like you own the place. If I see anything less than the charming, confident Bodhi Beckett I know you can be, I’ll…”
“You’llwhat?”Challenge seeped from my core. “Hit me? Ruin my career? Well, news flash,DAD…” I dropped my tone to a whisper. “I don’t care.”
“You will.”
“Yeah? Then give me your best shot. I dare you, because when I go down, I’m taking you with me.”
The tiniest trickle of fear lessened the contempt in his glare. He knew what I was saying was true. This empire he’d built wasn’t made of stone like he’d once assumed. His kingdom was nothing more than a cluster of sticks and I was itching to blow them all down.
Tightening his grip, he clenched his teeth and said, “What’s gotten into you? I don’t understand why you’re willing to throw away everything we’ve worked so hard for all these years. This isn’t you, Bodhi.”
We?I was the one who’d given up my childhood to make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. It was me who got up on that stage three to four times a week while he rested in the green room with a gin and tonic—dollar signs floating in front of his eyes. And my life he’d stolen before I could even speak. No, he was right. I wasn’t the weak kid he’d groomed me to be. I was the man who was about to light up his cushy world.
Coming to his senses, my father let go of my shirt, releasing me from the wall. He then smoothed the fabric and spoke to me like I was a child. “Let’s just focus on getting out of the bathroom and then we can go back to the hotel and talk in private. How does that sound?”
Did he really think I would fold that easily? Of course he did. It’s all he knew.
I smiled, but felt nothing but contempt as I answered his question in my best Eddie Haskell voice. “Sure, Dad. Let’s do that.”
* * *
When the door opened, my cheering squad was gone. That would’ve been good news had the soccer team not been replaced with paparazzi lobbing questions at me like hand grenades.
“Bodhi, what were you doing in the locked bathroom?”
“Were you shooting up?”
“Are you being charged with shoplifting?”
