“So?”
“What’s the deal with you and my dad?”
Okay, not fun facts about rabbits.
I clear my throat. “What do you mean?”
She laughs. “Come on, David. Everyone knows you and my dad don’t like each other. We’re stuck here together, no power, no TV, can’t play cards, so we should talk.”
“We could talk about just about anything else.”
I don’t know if I want to get into this with her. Then again, maybe I should. I like her. If she was anyone else, I’d be flirting with her and would probably ask her out once the power came back on. Or maybe before the power came back on. Maybe I’d join her on the couch. Before the power came back on.
But she’s not anyone else, and maybe I need to tell her that the next time I see her, I’m going to pretend I don’t see her. Or that I’m going to at least give her nothing more than a smile and a quick, “Hi”, and that’s going to make me seem like a huge asshole. I should at least explain to her why.
“Nah,” she says. “Let’s talk about my dad.”
I sigh. “Okay. Let’s talk about the amazing Chief Hansen.”
“Wow, the heavy sarcasm on the word ‘amazing’ is noted.”
“I realize I’m the only person who knows your dad who doesn’t think he’s amazing.”
“I’m guessing you have your reasons.”
Now I wish we had some light in here. That’s not really what I expected.
“I do have my reasons,” I agree. “We go way back.”
“Tell me about it.”
I blow out a breath. “I was an angry kid who acted out a lot and he was the one who got called when that happened,” I say, trying to keep it simple.
“Acted out how?”
I settle back into the chair. There are so many stories. “Fighting. Underage drinking. Drinking when I was of age, but well past the limit of…”
“Common sense and rational action?” she supplies.
I chuckle. “Yes.”
“What else?”
She sounds interested and I think I know what this is.
The good girl is fascinated with the bad boy.
Well, I can certainly entertain her if that’s the case.
“There was a stolen combine once,” I say.
She gasps softly. “Those are so expensive, David.”
I nod, though she can’t see me. My eyes have adjusted somewhat to the dark and I can make out her shape on the sofa, but not much else. “We didn’t keep it. Or wreck it. We just took it joyriding. And half of Mrs. Wilson’s garden did not survive. But the combine was fine. And I replanted her garden. My parents insisted.”
“Still…”
“It was very stupid,” I say, nodding again. “There was a lot of shit like that. Stolen beer. Stolen cigarettes. I stole a car from a kid in Carterville who I didn’t like. He got it back, of course, but not before I made him tell his brother that he’d slept with his girlfriend.” I take a breath. “I was the first guy a lot of guys punched. I was the first guy a lot of girls slapped. I got a lot of people drunk the first time. I got a lot of…” I trail off. It’s got to be the dark making me forget who I’m talking to as I rattle off my offenses.
