check out her ring and discuss wedding stuff. I hate to break it to Doe but I’m warming up to Mallory’s “let’s elope” idea every time I look at my father.
I plant my moody ass at the end of the bar where I have a good view of Mallory and the girls. Brothers stop by to shake my hand, congratulate me, and offer their advice—none as out of line as my father’s, thank fuck.
I signal for the prospect behind the bar to hand me another Corona.
“You think that’s a good idea?” My father’s rumbling question spikes my anger right back to the red zone.
I take a long, slow guzzle before answering his question. “Come to give me more shitty guidance?”
“After your…issue.” He nods to the beer bottle I have my fist wrapped around.
“My issue wasn’t alcohol. This is the first beer I’ve touched in months.” I cock my head. “What the fuck happened to you all of a sudden—get your grubby mitts on a copy of Parenting magazine and decide to make up for lost time?”
Instead of laughing, he hoists his big ass up on the stool next to me and orders his own beer. “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
I peer into my bottle. Maybe the little shit behind the bar laced it with LSD. That would sure explain this hallucination. Stump Adams apologizes for nothing to anyone. Ever.
“Come again?” I cup my hand around my ear and lean closer to him.
“You heard me.” He slaps me on the back with enough force to push me forward. “I ain’t repeatin’ myself.”
I tug at my ear. “I think I heard sorry come out of your mouth? But that can’t be right.”
He mutters a few curses under his breath. “Mallory’s a good girl. And I shouldn’t have brought up your mother.”
“Thank you.” My gaze lands on Mallory again. This time she catches me staring and waves. “She’s not good. She’s the best. Don’t forget it again, old man.”
“Fine. Fine. Fuck. I wish I’d never opened my mouth.”
I tap my bottle against his. “That makes two of us.”
“Maybe I was worried some of my shittiness rubbed off on you. That you’ll fuck things up because you need the thrill of something different once in a while.”
I groan and thump my forehead against the sticky wood bar. “Really?”
“Like father, like son and all that. But you’re different from me.”
“You don’t say,” I mumble.
“In a good way.”
I pick my head up and stare at him. “You ever think that growing up watching you be such an asshole helped me decide what kind of man I wanted to be? You taught me a lot of good things—I could always count on you to show up for me. At school, whatever I needed. Gave me your undivided attention too, even though you had a lot on your shoulders. Taught me the value of hard work. And to stand up for myself and for others. To be level-headed under pressure. When I’m ready to snap sometimes, I ask myself—would Dad handle it this way?”
He swallows hard and nods. “I tried.”
“Yeah, I get that it wasn’t easy for you. I know I was a little fucker sometimes—”
“Sometimes?”
“But, fuck I hated what you did to Mom. Hated watching her try so fucking hard to please you all the time and you not giving a shit.”
“Is that what you saw?”
“Yeah, that’s what I saw.” I rub my hands over my face considering how to put these feelings into words. “It was hard to reconcile the two. You were a good dad. Tough on me, for sure.”
“Not tough enough,” he mutters.
“You were lousy to my mother, though. I couldn’t comprehend why you’d treat someone you supposedly loved the way you treated her.”
“I did love her.”
I wave my hand toward the rest of the clubhouse. “I get that fucking without remorse is an admirable quality in a biker, but the damage caused isn’t worth living up to the stereotype.”
He seems to take all of that in and finally says, “I’m sorry.”
“Two in one day. I should get engaged more often.”
“Enjoy getting all this off your chest, Russell,” he warns. “Tonight’s your free pass.”
“Gee, what’ll you get me for our wedding?”
“A swift kick in your ass if you don’t stop mouthing off.”
I take another swallow of beer and consider my words. “I knew if I ever found the right girl, I’d do the opposite of whatever the fuck you did with women.”