We take my truck to my father’s house in the suburbs. It’s big, too fucking big for one person to live in. I grew up here but I don’t think of it as my house, not anymore. Not since my mom died.

We park out front. Buddy’s car is there, but that doesn’t really mean anything. “He might not be home,” I say.

“Don’t try to get out of this. We have to go check on him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just saying. He might not be.”

She gives me a look and gets out of the truck. I can’t help but smile. I don’t know when she got so strong and controlling, but I really like it.

She’s right about this. I’m not happy about it, but she’s right. I need to make sure my father’s okay and still functioning, or else they’ll come after me. Hell, I need to do it for him, just because he’s my goddamn father, as much as I hate that fact. I can’t be like him. I can’t turn my back on my family.

I get out and follow her up the front path. She knocks on the door and then rings the bell, and we stand back, waiting. Nothing happens after a minute, so she rings and knocks again.

I hear something crack inside and Alexa takes a step back, surprised. I sigh a little bit and step forward, pounding on the door.

“Open up, Buddy, it’s Elias,” I yell out.

There’s silence, and then another thump.

“Buddy, god damn it, open the door.”

We hear someone come down the hall. “That really you, son?” My father’s voice sounds completely normal, which is actually somewhat jarring.

“It’s me and Alexa,” I say. “Open the fucking door.”

“Why’s the girl here?” he asks.

“Because she convinced me to come check on your stupid worthless ass. Now open the fucking—”

Buddy pulls open the door before I can finish ranting at him. He grins at me and pulls me into an embrace before I can do anything to stop him.

“You care, you really care,” he says, his breath reeking of whisky.

He pulls back and I groan. He’s wearing an old sweatshirt, clearly stained with vomit, and his eyes are red ringed. His skin’s white and sallow, and he’s wearing only a pair of white briefs.

“Hi, Mayor Weaver,” Alexa says awkwardly. “You’re not wearing any pants.”

He looks down at himself and laughs. “I’m not. Well, come on in, you two.” He walks away from the door and back into the darkness of the kitchen.

I glance at Alexa, sigh, and follow Buddy. We head inside and she shuts the door behind us.

It reeks of vomit, alcohol, and body odor as we head inside. This house used to be a good place for me, the place where I grew up with my mother, but now it’s nothing but a tomb for my father. Alexa scrunches up her face but doesn’t comment on the smell.

There’s a lamp knocked over in the hallway and a shotgun propped up against the wall next to it. I’m guessing Buddy was a second from blowing us to smithereens with that thing before I yelled out. I grab the gun, break it open, and unload it before we get into the kitchen.

Buddy’s sitting at the table, nursing a drink. He grins and motions for us to join him. Alexa sits down at the other end of the table, frowning a little bit, but I stay standing.

“Have a drink, girl,” Buddy says. “Come on now. Remember what I did for you?”

“You didn’t rat her out, that’s all you did,” I snap at him.

He winks at me and looks back at Alexa. “Come on, a drink.”

“I’m pregnant,” she reminds him. “With your grandchild.”

“Right, right, that.” He makes a face. “A little alcohol never hurt anybody, right? Not even a baby. Have a little, it’s good for you.”

“That’s literally the exact opposite of what she should do,” I say.

“No, thank you, Mayor Weaver.” Alexa sounds polite, which clearly Buddy likes, because he beams at her.

“Well, at least you’re still respectful, unlike my ungrateful son over here.”

“Here we go,” I grumble. “How many times am I going to be subjected to this bullshit rant, Buddy?”

“Until you really hear it,” he snaps, then quickly calms down. “You see, Alexa, I gave my son everything. And as soon as my son was able, he turned his back on me.”

I sigh and finally sit at the table. “What you always conveniently forget is that you didn’t raise me. You were drunk, absent, and violent sometimes. You were a roadblock, not a help.” I hold up my hand before he can interrupt. “Yes, you paid for shit, but that’s all you were good for. You were just a wallet because you refused to be anything else.”

Buddy gives Alexa a look. “This kid, right? Expects the world.”

“I expected a sober father that was around more than once or twice a week to terrorize me and mom.”

“Do we have to do this again?” Buddy asks suddenly. “I mean, have this fight?”

“No,” I say, clenching my jaw. “I tried to avoid it.”

“Well, here’s to your mother, may her soul rest in peace.” Buddy downs the rest of his glass and pours another, sloshing a bit onto the table.

I want to reach across the table and strangle him to death. I can’t believe he even mentioned my mom like that. I’ve pretty much blamed him for her death, although I know that isn’t true. Still, part of me thinks that if she had a real husband that wasn’t involved with the mob and was always fucking around on her then she wouldn’t have died at all.

I know that’s absurd, but in the moment, it makes perfect sense to me. And to hear him toast to my mom’s memory… it enrages me so much.

I’m halfway to standing, but suddenly I feel Alexa’s hand on my leg. I pause, half up. Buddy doesn’t notice, he’s busy drinking more whisky. I look at her and she shakes her head, meeting my gaze.

I look back at her and my anger slowly dissipates. This is exactly the sort of thing that Buddy would do, and I’m trying to be better than that. Trying and failing, but I’m trying, which is more than he ever did.

“Nice to have you kids in here,” Buddy says, his voice thick with whisky now. I can’t even guess how much he’s had to drink before we showed up, but he’s not slowing down, that’s for sure. He drinks half his glass. “Been lonely, hiding out from the mob.”

“You know you can’t hide forever.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” he says, laughing. “But I’m the damn mayor. What can they do?”

“Kill you,” I say seriously.

“Nah,” he responds, laughing. “Alexa saw. They just choke me a bit, but they always stop before I pass out. Can’t have the mayor dying by accident.”

He cackles drunkenly and I feel Alexa flinch next to me. I sigh, grab the whisky bottle, and pour him some more. I grab myself a glass and pour a little.

“To surviving the mob,” I say.

He grins at me. “That’s the spirit.”

He downs his full glass and I sip mine. I glance at Alexa and she gives me a tight smile. I think she knows what I’m trying to do.

I get Buddy talking, and I keep his glass full. He talks about the early days of running for mayor, how he had to pay off all these insiders. He slowly gained more and more popularity in the polls and the establishment was basically forced to accept him. From there, Buddy’s been a force and he never looked back.

He loves to brag, my father, and he loves to drink. Put the two together, and he can’t stop himself. It doesn’t take long before his stories become less focused, more rambling, his voice thick with drink, his eyes even less focused.

His eyes droop, and he pushes the nearly empty bottle away. “Feeling tired,” he grumbles. “You two, go ahead and drink up without me. Gonna nap real fast. Be up soon.”

He puts his hand down on his arms and closes his eyes. After a few seconds, he’s snoring deeply.

I get up from the table and Alexa follows me. “Is he down?” she asks.

“For a while,” I say.

She sighs. “What do you think?”

I turn to her. “I think we should grab whatever looks valuable and get the fuck out of here.”

She stares at me for a second without saying anything before she bursts out laughing. I grin at her and pull her close against me. I softly kiss her lips and she kisses me back without hesitation.

“Let me show you something,” I say softly when we break apart.

“Yeah?” she asks, grinning. “You gonna take me up until your old bedroom?”

I nod seriously, not breaking eye contact. “That’s right,” I say. “And you better be quiet. But I suspect you won’t be able to.”

She blushes and I take her by the hand, leading her toward the stairs.