Dashing Through the No (Summersweet Island #3) - Tara Sivec Page 0,6
give a shit.”
My father’s gasp can probably be heard from space it’s so loud. I’ve never talked back to him. It’s always yes, sir. Right this minute, sir. Because my father has always demanded respect, and I have always obediently done whatever he’s asked of me. And for what? So he can continue not giving a shit about me or my happiness?
While he stands in front of me, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly, I turn back to the valet who is still casually puffing on his joint while he looks back and forth between me and my father. Taking another drag when the guy offers it to me, I only cough for about thirty seconds this time before I can speak again.
“What are you doing after this?” I ask the valet.
“Me and a few guys packed up a van and we’re heading to Florida, then off to Costa Rica. Got a bead on some jobs being caddies to professional golf players on the National Tour.” He shrugs as we pass the joint back and forth, and my father’s face gets so red someone should maybe call 911.
“I hate golf,” I tell him, holding the joint between my lips for a few seconds as I unbutton my tuxedo pants.
“Everyone does. But it pays okay, and you get to travel. Plus, free hot dogs.”
“Right on!” I smile, taking one last hit before handing what’s left of the tiny joint back to him. “I’m in. Just need to do one last thing first.”
Turning away from my new friend, I quickly shove my pants and boxer briefs down my legs and kick them off to the side as I stand back up and smile at my father. “I quit. Fuck you for never taking me to see Santa.”
With that, I turn and walk away from my life with my dick flopping around in the ocean breeze and half of Hollywood staring at my bare ass as I make my way down to the sand.
“You’re going to be nothing but a joke! A loser with no future and no one will ever take you seriously! You will have nothing!” my father shouts after me as my feet pad through the sand, and every weight on my shoulders disappears the closer and closer I get to the water.
But I’ll have my freedom, and matching Christmas pajamas, and that’s all that matters. Maybe someday I’ll find someone who takes me seriously, but until then, I’m going to do whatever makes me happy.
Picking up the pace, I run the rest of the way through the sand, laughing as I go until my feet hit the freezing cold water, shouting at the top of my lungs when I take a running leap to dive headfirst into a wave, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good toke!”
CHAPTER 1
Tess
“Resting Grinch Face.”
Present Day, one week before Christmas
Summersweet Island
“He was killed by The Polar Express.”
“Sadly, he was trampled by reindeer.”
“He fell off the roof while hanging Christmas lights.”
“Freak hunting accident. Shot himself right in the dick and bled out.”
“He was bashed in the head with a stocking holder when he was playing tag and it fell off the mantle.”
“He was kissing Santa under the mistletoe and died from mouth herpes. Very tragic.”
“I spiked his drink with rat poison when he wouldn’t stop asking me when we’re going to get married and have babies, Jan. Would you like another peppermint martini with extra crushed-up candy cane? At least I think the white powder I’ve been using all night is crushed-up candy cane.”
Jan Rowe, the librarian at Summersweet Island Library, quickly backs away from the bar after cheerfully asking me the same ridiculous questions as half the island tonight, and not being amused at all by one of my many responses. She turns and disappears into the crowd, while I take her abandoned empty martini glass and run it through the triple-sink cleaning station before setting it on the rubber mat behind the bar to dry. Why I decided to work this extra shift for the Summersweet business owners’ yearly Christmas party they throw for all their workers is beyond me, and I should have just let one of my other bartenders handle it. Aside from the fact that Christmas gets on my last damn nerve every year because it’s always so hectic, and over the top, and entirely too cheerful, with way too many organized events, I’ve gotten nothing but non-stop questions about my relationship since I walked in the door