Father's Keeper by Parker Ford (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

you want meand that is what scares you. You want me and I want you and you’d rather playthe father card because you’re scared.”

Gil looked at me as if I’d startedspewing profanity in church, turned on his heels and left me sitting there onhis workbench. On his bench lay a pane with a tall honey haired angel outlinedin stained glass. She was beautiful. Tall and strong and sure of herself withher silver sword. She was everything I wasn’t.

I didn’t see Gil the rest of the day,or even Carl. I went to my shift to find Carl MIA and came home to find Gil inbed already. They were both gone when I got up. The next day passed slowly, a torturousparade of time until I could go to work

Finally it was time for me to pull onjeans and a white John’s Tavern tee. I put on my sneakers and brushed my bluestreaked hair that now seemed silly and juvenile. I trudged the blocks to worklike I had cement in my shoes.

Carl was already off work and drinkingwith the boys from the landscaping crew who he spent all day with and now,apparently, all night. He came over on the sly. “Hi, girly,” he said and Icaught the sheepish look and the blush.

“So you got drunk and fucked Tammy,” Isaid, washing mugs behind the bar. Carl pressed his lanky frame over the bartop to talk to me softly.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he said, leaninglow.

“Ah,” I said with no real anger. Whowas I to judge? I’d given my stepfather a blow job the night before. Could Ireally ridicule him over Tammy, who would basically fuck around with anyone whogave her the time of day?

“I’m sorry, Jen. I had too much todrink and you know I get stupid when I do that.”

I nodded and rinsed all the mugsbefore upending them on the drying mat. “Gotcha.”

“You okay? I mean beyond being mad atmy dumb ass.”

“I’m not mad,” I said. “Tired.”

He was covered in rock dust and dirty.His face was sun burnt and his strawberry blonde hair was lighter from workingn the sun, already. “I hear ya. You want food when you get off? I can take youout.”

I shrugged. “Maybe.” John motioned meover. “I have to go. On the clock and all that. I’ll check in soon.”

I turned from him, relieved to be donewith having to talk. Truth be told, Carl could turn tail and walk off into thenight and never be heard from again and I’d be fine. I’d remember fondly howwell we got along and the good sex and all the laughter and booze and music anda few nights of good pot and munching out at the Mexican food drive through.But I wouldn’t miss him. Or grieve. Shit, I wouldn’t even cry.

Please don’t ask me to be a bad person Gil had said to me. Now that made mefeel like crying. As if loving me, as if wanting me, was akin to being a badperson.

I helped John hang the new beer dealsign and tried not to think about Gil or Carl or fucking or grief or my runawaymother and her box of pictures that she was already absent from.

“You okay, kiddo?” John asked.

“Tired,” I told him.

And I was. I was tired down to mybones. Tired of floundering in my life and wasting it on people who didn’t wantme.

Chapter10

Carl cornered me after shift in theback alley. He’d popped home and showered, his hair was combed and he smelledlike cologne. “Hey there, wanna go eat with me?”

“Maybe,” I said and tried to smile.

He kissed me and I let him. He had noidea anything between us was off. Anything strange he’d chalk up to hisscrewing around with Tammy. Any girlfriend would be pissed about that, right?

His hand sliced a trail from knee twogroin between my leg and he levered the hard ridge of his hand to my jean seam.The thick fabric pressed my clit, stole my breath. He kissed me hard againstthe wall, my head swimming with the clean smell of him. What the fuck, Gil didn’twant me. What difference did it make?

“Let me go home and shower,” Ilaughed.

Carl shook his head, smiling in thesingle spotlight that John had secured in the brick wall to keep folks fromhanging out in the back alley and doing drugs. Or fucking, let’s face it.“Un-unh,” he breathed.

“Come on,” I said. But he pushed hishand into my jeans and touched my clit, smeared my ready moisture around withhis fingertips. I gripped his shoulder, let him kiss me again. He rubbed slowand even, faster and faster and faster until the spirals he traced on my skinsucked me under and I came, shuddering against the wall like a teenager.

Carl knew the way to my forgiveness,it usually involved his talented fingers or tongue or cock and an orgasm orthree for me. “Come to dinner with me,” he said.

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

We both heard movement and turned.First I saw Gil’s pissed off face, then Tammy. Oh what a tangled web we weavewhen first we practice to deceive, I thought wildly.

“I see you’ve forgiven him,” Gil saidand then walked away shaking his head.

“He did fuck me,” Tammy chimed in andI pushed off the wall and headed after Gil leaving Carl to sort out his issueswith his brand new lover.

I didn’t see Gil on the street andcould only assume he’d driven the short trip from home to the tavern. I had torun. I ran like the devil was on my heels. I ran like my life depended on it. Iran like I was sorry. Because I was. No matter what he said, I knew the look onGil’s face when he found me with Carl. I’d had that look, felt it, lived it.That look was pain and I never wanted to cause Gil pain. Not since I was alittle girl.

At first I had hated him. Loathed himfor trying to take my father’s place. For being in the home with us when myreal dad couldn’t or wouldn’t. Hated him for having my mother and her forhaving him. Hated that he was so