Page 42 of Dash

I throw my head back laughing. As if I would actually do that with my father sitting out here at our table.

“We’ll take care of it,” my father snaps, getting our attention. “They have nothing to go on. He doesn’t even remember the boy being there.” Dash places his arms on the table as he leans over and watches my father intently. “That’s what I pay you for. I may not be an attorney, but I know extortion when I hear it.”

“Extortion?” I ask quietly looking over at Dash. He shakes his head at me but keeps his attention on my father. “Take care of it,” he snaps once again.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

My father slams his phone down onto the table, exhibiting his temper. My father has always been a laid-back type of guy, but if you mess with his family or business, you will see another side of him.

He looks over at Dash before he speaks. “The family says they have pictures of you serving him.”

“What?” he barks. “That’s a lie. I swear I don’t remember seeing him there. I can’t deny that he may have had drinks there. But I swear I never served him.”

“He came in after me and Jackie got there,” I admit, remembering the pimple-face kid walking in behind us. “I went straight to the kitchen for a drink, and he continued to walk down the hall.”

“Are you sure?” Dash asks and I raise my eyebrows at his question.

“Of course, I am. Do you not believe me?”

“You were already drunk when you got there,” he states.

“You were driving drunk?” my father growls. I ignore him.

I lean over the table and narrow my eyes on Dash. “Jackie drove me there. Yes, I had already had a few drinks, but I was just fine until you started shoving gin down my throat.”

“Shoving gin down your throat?” he asks in disbelief. “You were the one trying to drown your sorrows in a bottle.” I gasp. “What? Can’t remember how much you were tore up over Rodger leaving you? And you had so much that wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t remember…”

“I left him.” My voice rises. I slam my elbow on the table and point my finger at him. “And how dare…”

“Stop.” My father’s voice rings over ours. “Fighting about something so pointless isn’t going to help us figure out the problem. It’s just going to cause more.”

I take a deep breath. As does Dash.

“And they no longer care about the alcohol.”

“Then what are they saying now?”

My father looks over at me and then back to Dash. “They also have photos of you two together.”

“What?” we both shout at the same time.

“They have photos of you two kissing out at the track.”

“Jesus! Have they been following us? What in the hell do they want?” Dash asks.

“Money,” my father responds simply. “They want money. At first, I’m sure they thought that they could get it from you. But now they feel that they have better leverage by bringing my daughter into it.”

“Maybe they are lying?” I offer.

“How would they know that?” Dash asks. “That is exactly what we did. I saw you leaving. I brought in the bike and ran to stop you.”

“This is why you don’t mix business with pleasure,” my father mumbles.

Dash ignores him. “I begged you to stay. You did. We made out.”

“How would he know that?” I ask. Dash having a day at the track was not big news. Then a thought hits me. “The wreck was on the news. It released his name and everyone who was there. Maybe they are just grasping for straws.”

“There was only one other person there who knew that we walked off together,” Dash says and I tilt my head in confusion.

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