Page 269 of Property of Whiskey

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked him to come over.”

That takes Daddy longer to answer. Good. Let him sit with it. Finally, he says, “I want to talk to you.”

“I know.”

“Alone.”

“No.”

Whiskey’s smile disappears.

Daddy goes quiet. “Twila.”

“I’m not asking permission.”

“I’m your father.”

“And I’m twenty-eight.”

“That man kidnapped you.”

“He also let me leave.”

“That don’t erase what he did.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“Then why in God’s name are you defending him?”

“I’m not.”

Whiskey looks at me.

I flip him off.

He grins.

Daddy hears movement. “Is he laughing?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

Whiskey whispers, “Like father, like daughter.”

I cover the phone with my hand. “Shut up.”

Daddy snaps, “Put him on.”

“No.”

“Twila.”

“This is exactly what I mean.”