Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
If she didn’t like Heston, would I listen this time?
8
It’s near noon, and I still stand here against the counter, quietly drinking my coffee. I can’t help but stare at the urn on the cabinet right in front of me. My mind’s a complete blank as quietness wraps around me like a gentle blanket.
Knock, knock, knock.
I jump, nearly spilling my coffee down my shirt.
The doorbell rings, replacing the hard knocking. Someone is obviously trying to get my attention. I hurry to the door and swing it open to a medium-sized man in a striped button-up and black pants glaring at me. Standing next to him is a young girl, maybe Paige’s age. Her black hair is pencil straight with pink tips. She’s in a tight, ripped-up black shirt with lace trim, and her small waist nearly swims in jeans that are way too big for her.
“Your daughter got mine drunk last night,” the father informs angrily. My mouth drops at his tone and what the hell he just insinuated. My Paige?
“Are you sure?” Scratching my head, I look at the girl next to him, then back to him. This doesn’t make sense. Paige doesn’t even know this girl!
“Yes, I’m sure.” I have no idea what to say. Paige must have done this while I was gone all day. But why? This is so unlike her.
“No, I don’t think so, sir. We just moved here,” I inform him. Besides, Paige has never touched my wine.
“That’s great to know trouble just moved next door! Layla doesn’t need any more bad influences in her life. Maybe get ahold of your kid before she taints the whole neighborhood!” He’s nearly shouting now, his cheeks flushed, sweat dripping from his forehead. Even if Paige did what he’s accusing her of, does he understand it was his kid and mine? How dare he come over here and talk down to me! My shoulders rise, anger spreading inside, ready to burst. I have to remind myself this is a new place and I really want to make friends with everyone—including this jerk. I want the good and the bad this suburb has to offer. I want to live the American dream. Inhaling a calming breath, I look away, finding Owen and Flynn walking around their yard. Owen kneels down, looking at his plants. Flynn stares up at the sky as if an airplane is coming, but there’s no plane. Owen glances up, and we lock eyes before he jerks his attention to the plant.
“I’m sorry, what was your name again?” I ask the man, propping our door open with my hip. I haven’t met this man yet, making this encounter beyond awkward.
“I’m Earl, Earl Grady. My family and I live right next door.” He points to the left, the one with the white front door. His yard vacant of flowers or bushes. It’s plain, boring.
I take a sip of my coffee and watch him carefully, thinking about what to say. Tossing my coffee in his face is out of the question for now, but I don’t want to be a pushover either. I remember the time I was playing music too loud, while making a special piece for a show my mother was going to, the neighbors across the landing came over yelling and cussing that I woke him up and now he’s going to be late for work. The situation ended with me paying him fifty dollars, just so I didn’t have to fight.
“Look, I hear you. The whole block can. I’ll have a word with my daughter.”
“A word?” His head tilts to the side, as if I’ve lost my mind, his tone insinuating my “talk” is too easy of a punishment. He’s really starting to piss me off. It’s too early in the day for this crap.
“Look, my daughter has never done this before, so yes, I’m going to talk to her and figure out why she decided to sneak out with a stranger and drink, if you don’t mind,” I reply with a sharp tongue, flicking my scowl to Layla.
He stands up straighter, glances at his daughter, then back to me with piercing eyes.
“Yeah, okay.” He sounds more appeased, but I have a feeling this won’t be the last of this guy.
Looking over his head, I find Tenly checking her mail, just standing at the mailbox, glancing over her shoulder at me. The mailman hasn’t even come today.
Earl turns around, jerking his daughter by the elbow to follow. Looking at Tenly one last time, I shut the door.
“Paige Adler! Get down here right now!”
I hear her bedroom door open, her feet stomp across the landing, before standing at the top of the stairs. “What?” she groans in a sleepy voice. I wait for her to come down the stairs. It takes her a few seconds to realize I want her in front of me when I call her. It’s now that I notice the dark bags under her eyes, and the pale color of her face that’s still there from when I saw her earlier this morning. I thought she was sad about Ma’s ashes coming today not hungover from a late night of drinking.