Page 17 of Fast and Dirty

Barf.

Toby: O.M.G. gurrrrl! Jeffery just showed me page six has photos of you escaping the wedding!

Say what?

Mom: Your father is on the verge of a heart attack. Kira, enough! I’m going to have to call Dr.Wellington to make a housecall with the ketamine if you don’t call us back and explain yourself!

I keep shoveling bites of danish and hashbrowns into my mouth as I scroll and read because it seems to be helping.

Toby sends a few of my photos that made the local newspaper of me behind the wheel of the Rolls Royce, my veil blowing in the wind behind me. Joy. I get more pissed off messages from Preston telling me he’s going to show my dad the photo I sent him - yeah, got that - and that his uncle is giving me to the end of the day to get his Rolls back to him. Glad to finally clear up that mystery but that’s going to be a bit of a problem.

“This is seriously good,” I tell Agnes, pointing my fork down at my plate, and she winks. “I feel better already.”

“Once all that’s sitting at the bottom of your stomach go ahead and shoot that orange juice and hair of the coyote,” she waves her knife at my drinks.

That sounds horrible. But she hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

Just as I pick up the small glass of beer, another text comes through, and this one is the big kahuna.

Dad: There’s clearly only

Dad: There’s only one thing to do

Dad: . . .

Shit, looks like the drugs are on board.

Dad: Cleeerly, there’s only one thing to do with you here. Theres snow repairing the damage you’ve done. So we’re just going to cut it off.

Cut off the damage? What, like a gangrenous leg?

Dad: Cutting you off. You’re disowned. No more bad press and ducking up my bizness deals.

I’m cut off. Disowned. My family is no longer my family, my high - off - his - ass father is trying to tell me. But then again, he’s high off his ass.

I snort, nervously as I down some of the beer. Disown me… how do I feel about that? I mean, rejection never feels good from anyone, but are they really even my family in the first place? Maybe I’m too hungover to feel the sting.

Dad: And your cut off financially too. No more moolah for you.

No more moo-lah.

Ha! He’s so silly on tranquilizers.

Portia: Kira, Dad is going to cut you off! You can’t let him do it! If you’re no longer his daughter that means it really is only me from here out! I can’t take it! And seriously, he’s so lit right now, he’s calling his bank.

Oh shit, he’s really going for it? I choke on a piece of danish and down the shot of orange juice, trying to clear my throat.

“That’s the spirit,” Agnes cheers me with her coffee cup as I scramble to get up out of the booth. “Where’s the fire?”

“I need to find an ATM!” I spout out as I scurry towards the door, Agnes right on my heels.

“Denise! Put this on my tab!”

“You don’t have a tab!”

West

For fucks sake.It’s barely seven in the morning, but Agnes is an early riser and likes to get her kicks flirting with guys she finds attractive, no matter what their age. There’s never anything wrong with her car. I know because she’s been bringing it here almost weekly for the two years since I moved here and took over Shane Automotive from Kaleb Shane.

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