Dad: Found three boxes of your things. Come get them or I’ll throw them away.
I just roll my eyes. Any time he gets a new wife, I suddenly have boxes pop up. In other words, he wants me to meet the latest gold-digging Barbie of the hour. Now I’ll have to make a stop on my way home to deal with Brin.
I knew this was coming, considering how many calls and texts I’ve ignored recently. Why did I read that message?
I grab Brin’s keys and drive the short distance to my father’s fucking massive house, and I head through the service entrance instead of the front. Unfortunately, he was expecting that.
“You could send someone a message letting them know you’re coming,” he says disapprovingly.
I couldn’t care less.
“You could just mail my stuff to me. I haven’t lived here in years, so I can’t imagine what else is left of mine.”
“The attic just got cleaned out. Found a bunch of your old photos and trophies. Some of it may be things you might want to go through and throw away. Some things you might want to keep.”
Trophies and photos.
“Just let me meet the new wife, and I’ll grab the boxes. We both know that’s why you really sent that message. How old is she? Is this one at least older than me?”
He frowns while taking a breath. “She’s older than you. I’m sorry you seem to be in such a foul mood, but at least try to be cordial.”
I cross my arms over my chest as I stare expectantly.
“She’s by the pool,” he says, finally.
I nod and start walking in the direction, every step making me sicker. I hate being inside this house. The walls are stained with too many memories that only fuck with my head.
Dad can’t seem to handle being here alone. But he’s never going to learn or care. None of them are ever going to be her. A young ass isn’t going to soothe the guilt.
Blonde, big chest, barely legal... There’s no way the girl sunning in a bikini and wearing stilettos is really older than me.
“Marilyn, this is Rye.”
Of course her name is Marilyn.
She slowly pulls her glasses down, and she doesn’t hide her eyes as they hungrily rake over me. Sick. Most all of them do this. Why can’t he find one single woman who cares about him enough to not eat me up the first time they meet me?
“Not what I was expecting,” she drawls.
My father doesn’t acknowledge the typical ridiculous behavior. They’re all the same. Hungry for money from him and sex from anyone else. Not me. Fuck no.
“I’d say nice to meet you, but I don’t lie.”
She growls playfully, and swats her hand like she’s using cat claws. “Your father said you were a bit of a rebel with an attitude.”
I decide not to respond. She’s not worth the breath. Instead, I make my way over to my father, and stop as he turns around.
“I’ve met her. I’ll grab the boxes and go.”
He frowns as he looks down. “Good seeing you, son.”
I don’t reciprocate. I’d rather just walk away and leave him stewing in the silence that proves how much I hate him.
I grab my boxes, not bothering to stay here and go through them, and I carry them outside to Brin’s Camry. After I toss everything into the trunk, I close it and Marilyn is right in front of me.
“Christ,” I grumble, trying to catch my breath.
“Not what I expected you to be driving,” she says, stroking the side of Brin’s white car with her red manicured nail.