Page 21 of I Can't Even

“Throw them away,” the chief said.

I was so surprised by the surliness in his tone that I looked back at him.

Dad, who’d been on his way out with me, shifted just enough that I could see that the chief’s glare was aimed at the bakery box.

“Oh, but Chief. You said you wanted some cookies.” The secretary frowned.

I chose that moment to push past her with a muttered ‘excuse me’ and waited outside, far enough away that I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation.

Overall, I felt like the chief was a fair man. He wasn’t the cuddliest, or most approachable, but he was good at his job, and I’d never seen him be unfair in any way.

But his moods were killer when they swayed in the bad direction.

Dad caught up to me and shook his head as he said, “That man.”

I raised a brow at him. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” he admitted. “But he’s had it out for that bakery since Hollis found it and put it on the map.”

Hollis had gone into the bakery, which was close to our apartments, and all but perished over how much she loved it. She loved it so much that she shared the place with Ande. Ande then shared it with Keene’s sisters, who had a huge following on Instagram and Facebook. And from there, the rest was history.

The bakery, Pie Hard, was booming.

The young woman who’d opened it had seen more business than she could’ve ever asked for.

“Why does the chief have a hard on for it?” I asked. “Did the owner do something to him?”

He looked at me for a long moment, then said, “If you ever mutter a fuckin’ word of this, I’ll kill you.”

I held up my hands. “What?”

“The chief has a daughter,” he mumbled, looking around as he said it, as if he was worried someone might overhear.

“He does?” I frowned. “I thought he and his wife were childless?”

“The wife is. The chief remarried when y’all were around fifteen or so. He had a thirteen-year-old daughter when he did. Something happened, though, and the daughter went and stayed with the grandparents on her mom’s side. And they haven’t talked much about it since.”

“Okay,” I said. “And this matters because…”

“Because that bakery was opened by the chief’s daughter,” he murmured. “And that stays between you and me. Understand?”

I nodded, surprised to hear this.

“That sucks,” I said. “I wonder what all happened.”

Dad’s face ticked up at the corner, his eye twitching. “I will bet my life it has everything to do with the new wife. She’s a fuckin’ dumpster fire.”

For Dad to say that meant a whole lot.

Dad’s version of ‘dumpster fire’ was DEFCON 1.

“Shit, that sucks,” I repeated.

Dad nodded, slapped me on the back, and then went into his office. But not before saying, “Keep your trap shut, Quaid.”

I rolled my eyes and headed toward my own office, testing out my ankle as I moved.

It felt good today.

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