All-American Princess - Maggie Dallen

One

Lila

From my spot at the window I had a perfect view of the ghost town that spread below my feet. Our new apartment overlooked the main road, which was a whopping three blocks long and consisted of a diner, a hardware store, and about twelve antique shops.

The residents of Pinedale had the audacity to call it Broadway. Naming this sad street after Manhattan’s iconic, bustling theater district was surely someone’s idea of a joke.

Of course, that would mean the local yokels had some sense of irony. If anyone in this inbred, halfwit town even knew what the word irony meant, I’d have fainted in disbelief. My sister and I had seen a few of the slack-jawed townsfolk on our drive in from the airport, but not a single soul graced the sidewalk on this particular Friday afternoon.

The only thing missing from the scene below was a tumbleweed.

I wrinkled my nose and turned to face my cellphone, which was charging on the floor in the corner at the only electrical outlet that worked in this soon-to-be condemned apartment. “It’s like the zombie apocalypse out there, Daddy.”

My phone was set on speaker so I could unpack as we talked, and my father’s sigh echoed throughout the nearly empty apartment. “It’s Montana, Princess,” he said for the millionth time. “What did you expect?”

I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it, and traced a heart in the dust that covered the windowsill. I hadn’t known what to expect, but even in my worst nightmares it certainly hadn’t been as bad as this.

The driver who’d picked me up at the airport and driven me out to this rural hellhole had described Pinedale’s downtown as quaint and charming.

Miserable and forgotten seemed far more accurate. Pinedale was the land before time, the town that the rest of the world had forgotten. This was where trends came to die. We were about as far from the center of the universe as one could get and still be in the Northern Hemisphere.

By ‘the center of the universe,’ I obviously meant Los Angeles.

“This place smells like dead people,” I informed my father, brushing off my dusty fingers as I turned away to assess the apartment. “I’m pretty sure there are corpses buried under the floorboards.”

“Delilah.” My father’s voice took on a warning tone. He was reaching his breaking point—no one ever called me Delilah except for my father, and he only ever used my full name when he was running out of patience with me.

So, pretty much all the time.

“Yes, Daddy?” I said sweetly.

He sighed again. “You won’t be there for long.”

I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. It was true. I wouldn’t be here long. One week, if I could manage it. Two, tops. I’d be back in my own home by the time all my friends got back from summer break.

I gripped the edge of the windowsill behind me at the thought of all my friends having fun while I was here. In hell. “I don’t see why I had to come.”

This was a conversation we’d had before… multiple times. Sometimes, I couldn’t help myself when it came to my father. I’d always had this sick impulse to see how far I could push him before he broke. A therapist once told me it was a sort of defense mechanism. A preemptive strike, if you will.

Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn’t. But in this instance, I could almost positively say I wasn’t trying to be preemptive about anything. It was more a case of my ego needing one more stroke. “I still don’t see why Tess can’t do this on her own.”

If I’d been hoping to hear how my father needed my particular finesse, my way with people, my charm and my flair—I was doomed to disappointment. Not only that, I was toeing the edge of my father’s temper.

His answering silence was a warning in and of itself.

I turned to watch the phone warily as I waited for a response. My father was not one to trifle with, and his tone was frosty when he spoke again. “I’ll have Tess find better accommodations if you think you’ll be there that long.”

I scowled at the phone, but of course my silent response went unnoticed. Probably for the best. We’d been over this more times than I could count. No one got anything for free in my family, not even dutiful daughters. We all earned our keep, and that’s all this was. A job. One which I would

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024