The bass from the music was a physical thing, a deep, thumping vibration that resonated in my chest cavity, making my teeth ache. Pinky and I were crammed into a dark corner booth of some raunchy upscale nightclub. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, spilled liquor, and desperation.
It was approaching 3 a.m., and I was starting to think my dad wouldn't show.
He was a creature of habit, but habits could change. I didn't consider that possibility at all before coming here.
Then, he walked in. The crowd near the entrance seemed to part for him, a subtle, almost subconscious acknowledgement of his power even in his disgraced state. He was dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than a car.
Shit, that face pisses me off.
I'm so happy I don't look like him.
