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“He’s leaving.” Hollywood stepped onto the porch and nudged me toward the steps. “C’mon. Tex needs to sleep. He’ll have Ruby all day.”
I gave Tex his coffee, offered another apology, and went down the steps when Hollywood nudged me forward.
“You can come with me and Ruby,” he said. “We’ll talk in the car.”
“Yeah? I don’t want to intrude.”
“You won’t. You can hang in the waiting room while we visit with Carrie.”
Hollywood was visiting Ruby’s mom in a rehab facility, where she was recovering from injuries from a car accident. He’d been taking care of his daughter for the past few weeks—and would continue to do so until Carrie was better.
“Sure, yeah. Whatever you want.”
At least I wouldn’t have to sit around alone and think about all the ways I’d fucked up everything. On days like this, prison seemed easier. At least then, I was paying for what I’d done. Out here, now, I was just…supposed to move on as if I hadn’t made the worst mistake ever. Like I deserved to work and date and hang out with friends. And I didn’t. I never would.
We made it onto the highway, passing by Ball Breakers Pool Hall and Anarchy Ink, the tattoo parlor where Knight worked, before Hollywood turned to me expectantly.
“Okay, spill it. What happened with your dad?”
I sighed heavily. “Nothing that hasn’t happened a bunch of times before.”
“Which is?”
“He wants to control all my decisions.” I grimaced. “I know I’ve made mistakes. Bad ones. But I don’t want to work for him and live with him and let him decide where I go or who I go out with. It’s suffocating.”
Hollywood kept his eyes on the road. “You’re an adult, and you can make your own decisions.”
“Exactly.”
“But—”
I groaned. “Nooo. No buts.”
He chuckled. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
I slumped in my seat. “Something about me showing I can make good decisions by actually holding down a job and not staying out till 3 a.m.?”
“Pretty much.” Hollywood gave me a surprised look. “You stay out till 3 a.m.?”
“Well, not every night, but it takes a while to drive back from Omaha after a night at the clubs, so…”
“You’re going clubbing? How often?”
“Most weekends. I don’t know. It’s not like Riverton is overflowing with single gay dudes to fu—”
Hollywood slapped a hand over my mouth. Whoops. There was a munchkin in the car. I mumbled sorry, and he dropped his hand.
“Okay, I get that you’re young and want to have fun. But if you want your dad to treat you like a responsible adult, you’ve got to show him something.”
“Yeah, I know. I just…I can’t get with these jobs, you know? They all just feel like a road to nowhere.”
“So, go to barber school. You can come work with me.”
I chuckled. “Really? Clint would let me?”
“He’s going to retire, eventually.”
Hollywood’s boss was pushing eighty. He used to sponsor all the high school baseball games back in the day, but I’d never gone to his barbershop. It wasn’t upscale enough for my parents.
