Page 82 of Desperate Needs

Pop told me not to worry that he had everything under control, but I knew my father wouldn’t tell me otherwise.

Not even when my mother had gotten sick had he ever allowed us to believe anything bad would happen.

She made it, of course. Though secretly, I always believed it was my father’s sheer will that had beaten her cancer.

He was an incredible husband and father, and I was just so relieved I hadn’t brought him any hardship.

I’d always feared that somehow, I’d be the one to drag him down.

To make things harder for him than they needed to be.

Ever since the kidnapping, I’d been afraid of that.

But those thoughts were way too heavy for a night on the town with the girls.

“Hey, smile!” Aella shouted and began shaking her tush to Point of No Return by Exposé.

I flashed her an exaggerated grin and shook my head as she dragged me onto the dance floor. The strobe lights were glaring, and the music was loud, but I had to admit it was fun.

Lucy, Andrea, Shelly, and Coral joined us, and everything else just fell away as we lost ourselves to the fast-paced, electronic beat this style of music offered.

Aunt Destiny was totally to blame. She taught us all about the Latin Freestyle sound wave that was so damn popular in the 80s and early 90s especially in the Northeast.

She’d had us listening to singers like Noel, Judy Torres, Stevie B, and Lisa Lisa before we could drive. All those memories filled me as the familiar choruses pumped through the speakers with the DJ's own unique synthesized beats mixed in.

My family was unique, I knew that. I was so grateful to have them. And I treasured them, I did.

But even the best family couldn’t fix a broken heart. And my heart had been utterly destroyed by Connor Callahan.

Still, I tried to have fun. To be in the moment.

It was loud and crowded. My uncle’s security was good about keeping men away from us.

And that was fine. I didn’t go there to flirt. Even if we all wore tight, short skirts and shimmery tank tops, with leather boots, makeup on, and our hair down.

Anyone who thought women only dressed up to attract men was a chauvinistic asshole.

Now, while I admitted, that might be true sometimes. It wasn’t always.

But tonight, I dressed for myself. I wanted to be comfortable and feel good, which was why, despite the short, tight skirt, I wore candy cane striped cotton panties beneath it.

See? Comfort first. And so seasonal!

Lucy had teased me, but I saw her picking her jam twice and I knew that new thong she bought was creeping up too high.

I didn’t want to say I told you so, but, well, you get it.

Dancing was hard work, and after who knew how long, I told the girls I needed a break.

“Want us to come with?”

“No! I’ll be back. I just need water,” I shouted over the music.

I was a sweaty mess when I walked over to the bar to grab a bottle of water.

The crowd seemed to part for me, and I took the empty space and signaled the bartender.

“You look good shaking your fine ass out there, baby. How about you come sit on my lap and let me buy you a drink, thick girl?”

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