Page 12 of Whiskey and Regret
“In the morning?” Xari’s expressive eyes grew wider before she reigned in her shock. “I mean, yes, of course. I’ll be there at seven,” she muttered through gritted teeth. Something told me she barely rolled out of bed before ten on most days.
What the hell was I getting myself into with this girl? She’d better make one hell of an impression on me over the next thirty days.
…
When I woke up the next morning, I heard music playing in Frankie’s room. I forgot what having her live with me meant. I forgot about the giggling on the phone, loud music, dramatic outbursts, and constant power struggles. I had to adjust quickly. Hopefully, having Xari around would help calm the tornado that was a preteen girl.
I pulled my sleep-laden body out of bed and looked at my nightstand. An empty bottle of Jameson blurred the numbers on my clock. To my left, my laptop was still open but the screen was black. I must have fallen asleep writing. I’d have to go back and check my novel for mistakes. I slid my hands down my face then trudged down the hall. The sun hadn’t even risen in the sky yet. I prepared my best Dad speech then opened Frankie’s bedroom door.
Frankie was sprawled out on her bed. One earbud in, one out. The white cord that used to be plugged into her phone was dangling off the side of her full-sized bed and her Bluetooth speaker was pumping music.
When she shifted positions in her sleep, the cord must have come out and the speaker ended up pairing to the phone as a result. I shook my head and paused the song before groaning.
“No more falling asleep with music on, Frankie. Come on. Get up.” I shook her leg and she whined before curling into the fetal position and burying her head under the comforter. “Okay, I want you up and in the shower by the time I’m done with my workout. Don’t forget Miss Lucas comes by in an hour.”
I went to my room and tossed on a gray Nike shirt and black Nike shorts, hung a towel around my neck, and headed to the in-home gym downstairs.
I had to start my mornings with a workout or else my head wouldn’t be clear, I had a ton of meetings and appearances. Today would be the day I needed Xari to pull through if she was serious about being Frankie’s nanny. She would have to pick her up from school, feed her, help her with homework, and hang out with her until I got off.
I hit the weights heavy and let my mind run wild. The first thing I thought about was the way Xari Lucas looked in that black and white dress yesterday. Goddamn. Something so distracting shouldn’t come in such a pretty package.
When I finished my last set of deadlifts, my phone rang, stopping the Notorious BIG song that pumped through the speakers. I wiped the sweat from my face and answered the call once I saw my father’s name flash across the screen. I had to be in my right mind to speak to him. I didn’t have the type of father I could carry on mindless conversations with. Every conversation with Warren Freeman had to be calculated.
“Hey, Dad,” I said pushing out a whoosh of air from my lungs. I sat on the weight bench with my elbows on my knees wanting desperately to get back to my work out. To get back to Biggie. Something about 90’s hip-hop was so raw. The beats hit so hard I couldn’t go a day without listening to it.
“Van, how are you?” His voice was deep and rich.
“I’m good. How are you feeling, old man?”
“Can’t complain. Just got done with my morning run. I hear you’re having a meeting about the art program funding cuts today.”
“I am. Why what’s up?” I already knew why he was calling. He wanted me to vote his way. That had been the case my entire career. Dad groomed me to move and operate like he did in the senate. Like his father did and like the men before him. We were four generations deep into the senate and now it was all on me to continue carrying out the Freeman legacy. I knew it would stop with me though. I couldn’t see forcing this shit on Frankie.
I was only going along with it because I’d been conditioned my entire life. I knew the importance of having a Freeman in the senate. Our family had been lucky to have a hand in creating laws that benefitted our community. I appreciated the legacy we had but my father was more calculating with his senate term. He voted on issues that would line our family’s pockets or put future generations of Freemans at the top of the food chain. His goal was to eventually have a Freeman in the White House.
“You know why, son. I want to make sure you know which way to vote.”
“I’m voting against the cuts, Dad. I’m not playing these games. Inner-city kids need art programs. Without them, we see criminal activity, gang activity, and homicide skyrocket. You know that.”
“I also know that there is no Freeman child in any of those filthy inner-city schools so the fate of them is of no concern to us. Cutting funding to those programs will divert more money to the private organizations that support you. One of them being Francesca’s school, Holy Trinity.
“So, usurp funds from schools that need it to fund schools where parents can afford to pay for their children to have extracurricular art programs?” I laughed because it was a fucking joke.
“Evander, take your goddamn heart off your sleeve and use your brain. You will vote the correct way. People are depending on it. Most of the others are voting to cut funds to ensure our children stay cultured without it going to waste.”
“You think funding inner-city schools means the money will go to waste?” I scoffed.
“Of course it will. Those kinds of kids don’t know how to properly appreciate anything that isn’t rap music.”
“Dad, I gotta go. I was in the middle of a workout.”
“Well, fine. Just vote for the cuts. Remember, I want my granddaughter to have every opportunity to excel. I’m trying to set her up for the best possible future.”
“I know. Frankie is fine though. I can afford to give her any opportunity I want. I’ll call you later,” I said. I pressed end call then took my frustrations out on the weights.
…
FIVE
