Page 52 of Too Late

I blow out a slow breath, then flip over my second card. An ace of clubs.

Blackjack.

“I’m getting married,” I say. “But she’s not a whore.”

I don’t think I’m making any sense to him, because he tilts his head and his eyes narrow a little. Then he leans forward and taps the edge of the table. “Let me give you a piece of advice, son.”

“Don’t call meson.”

He pauses for a second and I recognize a flash of the condescending look he used to give. Then he says, “They’reallwhores. You’re young, don’t settle down. Enjoy your life.”

“Idofucking enjoy my life. I enjoy it a whole fucking bunch.”

He shakes his head and then mutters, “You’re the angriest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

He’s right. I am.

I’ve never been angrier than I am in this moment.

I want to climb across this table and shove my cards down his throat, despite the fact that it’s a winning hand.

The dealer pushes my winnings in front of me, but I stand up and walk away before I do something stupid inside a building full of security cameras and security guards.

“Sir!” the dealer calls after me. “You can’t walk away from your chips!”

“Keep the fucking chips!”

I walk as fast as I can from one side of the casino to the other. I finally find Jon, flanked by the two lot lizards at a fucking pussy-assWheel of Fortunegame.

“Go find Dalton and Kevin. We’re leaving.”

I walk toward the exit and as soon as I shove open the doors, I bend forward, gasping for breath.

I’m not like him.

I’mnothinglike him.

He’s pathetic. He’s weak. He’s fuckingbald, for Christ’s sake!

My hands are shaking.

“Hey!” I get the attention of a man who just exited. “Can I bum one of those?”

He puts his cigarette in his mouth to reach into his pocket for another one. He hands it to me, then offers me a lighter. I light it and mutter thanks, then inhale a long drag of it. I’m still pacing when the guys finally make it outside.

But not far behind them, I see him, the wrinkled-tit lot lizard flanked to his arm. They’re making their way toward the exit.

“Let’s go,” Jon says, once they’re all outside.

I shake my head and don’t take my eyes off my father. “We’ll leave in a second.”

I continue staring at them as they walk toward the exit. Once they push through the doors and are outside, his eyes land on me. He notices the cigarette in my mouth as he passes me.

“I thought you said you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t,” I say, blowing smoke toward him. “This is my first.”

Again with the condescending looks. They’re the same condescending looks he used to give me when I was a kid, only this time they aren’t served up with a beating.

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