Page 72 of The Off-Limits Play

He was my hero. The badass biker with the tats, the beard, the broad smile, and the booming laugh.

He used to be a gang member but got out of that life after he met Mom. They fell in love fast and were married within the year. Then I came along and we were playing happy family, minding our own business and being this content little trio. Dad was running a garage, fixing up motorcycles and cars. Mom was selling real estate. Life was peachy.

But once a gang member, always a gang member.

His old buddies started coming around, demanding things, threatening things. I didn’t know any of this shit at the time, but I remember feeling like someone was watching me when I walked home from school.

I mentioned it at the dinner table one night, and Dad got really tense and quiet. He shared a look with Mom that I remember feeling deep in my gut. Something was off. And six months later, Dad was arrested for killing a guy outside a bar in downtown Denver.

Mom wouldn’t tell me much, and Dad’s annoyingly tight-lipped about it as well. But my guess is his old gang was demanding things he wasn’t willing to give, and then they threatened his family.

It’s probably one of the reasons Mom’s pissed off that I chose to go to college in Colorado. I’m too close to his old life, and she doesn’t want that shit touching me.

But he’s my dad! I’m not walking away from the guy. Just because she did doesn’t mean I have to.

Besides, who else am I going to talk to about Nylah?

A smile touches my lips as I think about her. I saw her walking to class yesterday. It took everything in me not to sprint across the grass and catch her hand, drag her around the side of the building so I could kiss her in secret.

Nah, I’ll save my kisses for tonight, because we all know I’m sneaking into that party.

After sending her a quick “Zoey’s better” update two days after she gave me her number, I made the mistake of texting her again that afternoon. I don’t know why I did it. But her digits were right there, and I’d just seen a chick who looked exactly like the girl fromKrull, and surely Nylah had seen that. It’s a classic.

So, I gave in. I texted, and she texted right back. And the conversation has kept going. She sends me GIFs, and I have to guess what movie they’re from. I send her obscure lines, and she has to tell me which character said them.

It’s dumb.

But it’s fun.

This morning, she messaged me, reminding me about the party.

Sci-Fi Girl: Your ass better be there or I’ll be one lonely girl. Don’t let me down, Two-Bit.

Me:I do not look like fucking Two-Bit Matthews. Lame.

Sci-Fi Girl: Accurate. You totally look like him.

She sent me a pic fromThe Outsiderswith an arrow pointing to his character, but I shook my head.

Me: You can do better than that.

So she sent me a pic of Sodapop Curtis, then immediately followed it up with…

Sci-Fi Girl: Actually, no. He’s way too smiley and happy.

I sent her back a GIF of Homer Simpson flipping the bird while he’s sinking into the ground and got back a bunch of laughing emojis.

About an hour ago, she sent me a GIF of River Phoenix as a young Indiana Jones. Okay, so maybe that’s a little more accurate. Although my hair is way cooler than his.

I haven’t responded to that one yet. I shouldn’t leave her hanging, but I didn’t want to be late for Dad, so I’ll text her after my visit.

Getting off the freeway, I follow the road to Dunhill. It’s in the middle of fucking nowhere. This gray concrete block surrounded by fences and barbed wire. I can’t believe my dad has to live in this shithole. It riles me every time.

Fuck that judge and jury for their bias against people with a shady past.

Fuck that lawyer for not fighting harder to defend my dad.

Fuck those gang members who wouldn’t let him go.

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