“That lion wasn’t staring you down; he had me in his sights the entire time,” Spidey defends.
Ex holds his hand up, telling them to stop. “Brothers, we need to find this bitch so we can split.”
The guys nod, silently following Ex, hopefully in the right direction this time.
Bethany glances over atme as we pull onto the side road that leads to my mom’s. “We’re going to your old house?”
“Yeah. Every time I call my mom, Prez answers.”
“So?”
“I want to talk to her!”
“He doesn’t let you speak to her?”
“I always hang up.”
“You’re such an asshole. He’s your dad, Prissy. You need to just accept it, that this is how their relationship is and move on.”
“I get that and to an extent I agree with you, but what happens if she gets so fucked up sometime down the road from him leaving her again that she pops some pills or something and kills herself?”
Bethany doesn’t answer, staring out the windshield as we near my mom’s house.
“I refuse to feel like I stood by and did nothing. I don’t have to go through with our plan by slamming the Prez in front of everyone, especially because it would now affect Viking as well. But at the same time, it doesn’t mean that I have to like him or talk to him. Father or not, he left my life a long time ago.”
“Look, I love Mona, I do; but that’s not your responsibility. Your mom can decide to stop letting him around. Her actions aren’t yours to own and neither should the consequences be.”
“They may not be, but you tell me all the time, I have one mother and she loves me. I’m not going to stand by and not do something.”
Pulling behind Mom’s Impala, I shift my car into park. “Are you staying? Or do you want to come with me?”
“Isn’t that Prez’ bike?” She nods off to the side of my mom’s car at the navy and black Harley Davidson Softail. Cost my brother almost twenty-four thousand dollars to take that bike home.
“No, the Softail is Brently’s. I forgot you hadn’t seen it yet.” Gesturing to the side of the detached garage, I point out. “That’s Prez’s.”
My dad’s very picky about his bikes. He keeps them for years at a time, but when he gets a new one, it’s completely different than the last every single time. This one’s a Harley Davidson, Ape Hanger Custom, low-Softail Deluxe.
I have no clue how much he spent on it, but I’d guess a ton with its glossy black paint and silver pin striping. He’d never tell my mom anyhow. The one time he told her how much he had spent on a Harley, she flipped her shit. I remember hearing her say that they could put a kid through college, but he had bought a motorcycle instead.
“Crap, do you need me to come in? If you do, then I will; otherwise, I was going to wait here.”
“No, it’s fine, the pickup’s gone, so they must’ve come and traded vehicles.”
“Okay, will you leave the car on so I can listen to music?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back.”
Slamming my door, I follow along the narrow, worn grass path and hop up the steps to the porch. Stopping at the front door, I take in the aged dark gray paint. It’s fading enough to make out the wood underneath, and it sort of makes me sad. We painted this door right before my dad finally left us. Now, like the paint, we’re all worn down, a little vulnerable and exposed when it comes to outside elements.
Taking a deep breath, I twist the door handle; only it doesn’t budge.Okay then.Pressing the door chime and folding my arms over my chest, I wait for her to answer. It feels as if five minutes pass with nothing, so I try knocking loudly.
She still doesn’t answer, which is odd because my dad never takes her anywhere with him and her car’s parked out front.Maybe I should call.
Jogging back to my car, Bethany turns to me as I slide into my seat.
“Everything go good?”
“She didn’t answer; I’m going to try her cell.”