guessing.” I stand up and brush my sweats off.
It occurs to me that I’m glad I was sleeping on the sofa when all of this went down. If I’d been in my own bed, I’d have gotten kidnapped without a stitch on. That would have been awkward.
Before my imagination can follow that one to some unpleasant conclusions, I hear voices from outside the door. I leap across the small space and throw myself in front of Carly, backing us both against the wall.
The door flies open, slamming against the wall as the asshole I’ve been sparring with off and on for the last week strolls in, flooding the space with light from the hallway.
“Well, looks like wonder boy woke up. Guess I didn’t hit him hard enough.” He chuckles, and his sidekick, the same guy Vaughn threw down with at Carly’s dorm mutters something foul.
I cross my arms in front of me, pressing back against Carly, who is trying to either peer around me or wiggle out of the little cage I’ve trapped her in. I’m a lot taller, so she’s not having much luck.
“Let’s get down to business,” I say, my voice reverberating in the small room. “Your boss thinks Carly’s responsible for her old man’s debts. I disagree, but I’m tired of the hassle. I’ll pay it back. I just need access to a phone and a few hours for the transfer to come through.”
This isn’t how I envisioned the whole thing when I offered to pay off Carly’s debt. I thought I’d give the money to Vaughn and he’d be the one to take care of the handoff. It would make sense—he’s her family, and it’s logical that a family member would come to town and help her out. It also made sense to keep me anonymous, because if these guys know who I am, they might decide I’m a lot more valuable than Carly. But now, I’m forced to be directly involved in the money transfer—something I hope I won’t regret.
I was seven the first time I realized that my family wasn’t like everyone else’s. Around Portland, the guys of Lush and their families were a pretty common sight, so we didn’t get too much unwanted attention. But when Portland became even more crowded, overtaking Seattle as the crown jewel of the Northwest, there were more and more tourists, more and more newcomers, more and more people who didn’t understand that Portland was Lush’s haven, the place where my dad and his best friends could be themselves, have normal lives, and make the music they loved.
Sometime early in second grade, I was out with my dad at a game arcade. My little sister wasn’t even two yet, and she still took up a lot of my mom’s time, so every couple of weeks, Dad would grab me and we’d head out for the afternoon, just the two of us. We’d do all kinds of stuff—go to Studio B and play with the equipment, hit up an arcade, go skating at one of the year-round ice rinks. But no matter what we did, it was always my favorite kind of day. Because I loved my mom and my sister, but Dad was my best friend.
This particular day at the arcade, I’d become fascinated with skee ball. No matter what other games Dad suggested, I wouldn’t leave that skee ball game.
“Pax,” he said, after a couple of hours of it, “I’m glad you love that so much, but little dude, we have to get home before your mom sends Uncle Joss out after us.”
Just then, a big guy with a beard and a baseball cap pulled down low stepped between Dad and me.
“Joss, huh?” he said, his voice sounding raspy. “I was right, then. You are Walsh Clark—big, fancy, rich rock star, yeah?”
I looked around the strange man and saw Dad glance at me. I knew by the look on his face that something wasn’t quite right.
“Yeah, man. I’m Walsh,” he said, giving the guy a tight smile.
The man reached behind him and put a hand on my shoulder before he pulled me out to stand next to him. His hand squeezed my shoulder a little too tight, and I squirmed, trying to get free.
“And this must be your kid,” he said, looking down at me with
It occurs to me that I’m glad I was sleeping on the sofa when all of this went down. If I’d been in my own bed, I’d have gotten kidnapped without a stitch on. That would have been awkward.
Before my imagination can follow that one to some unpleasant conclusions, I hear voices from outside the door. I leap across the small space and throw myself in front of Carly, backing us both against the wall.
The door flies open, slamming against the wall as the asshole I’ve been sparring with off and on for the last week strolls in, flooding the space with light from the hallway.
“Well, looks like wonder boy woke up. Guess I didn’t hit him hard enough.” He chuckles, and his sidekick, the same guy Vaughn threw down with at Carly’s dorm mutters something foul.
I cross my arms in front of me, pressing back against Carly, who is trying to either peer around me or wiggle out of the little cage I’ve trapped her in. I’m a lot taller, so she’s not having much luck.
“Let’s get down to business,” I say, my voice reverberating in the small room. “Your boss thinks Carly’s responsible for her old man’s debts. I disagree, but I’m tired of the hassle. I’ll pay it back. I just need access to a phone and a few hours for the transfer to come through.”
This isn’t how I envisioned the whole thing when I offered to pay off Carly’s debt. I thought I’d give the money to Vaughn and he’d be the one to take care of the handoff. It would make sense—he’s her family, and it’s logical that a family member would come to town and help her out. It also made sense to keep me anonymous, because if these guys know who I am, they might decide I’m a lot more valuable than Carly. But now, I’m forced to be directly involved in the money transfer—something I hope I won’t regret.
I was seven the first time I realized that my family wasn’t like everyone else’s. Around Portland, the guys of Lush and their families were a pretty common sight, so we didn’t get too much unwanted attention. But when Portland became even more crowded, overtaking Seattle as the crown jewel of the Northwest, there were more and more tourists, more and more newcomers, more and more people who didn’t understand that Portland was Lush’s haven, the place where my dad and his best friends could be themselves, have normal lives, and make the music they loved.
Sometime early in second grade, I was out with my dad at a game arcade. My little sister wasn’t even two yet, and she still took up a lot of my mom’s time, so every couple of weeks, Dad would grab me and we’d head out for the afternoon, just the two of us. We’d do all kinds of stuff—go to Studio B and play with the equipment, hit up an arcade, go skating at one of the year-round ice rinks. But no matter what we did, it was always my favorite kind of day. Because I loved my mom and my sister, but Dad was my best friend.
This particular day at the arcade, I’d become fascinated with skee ball. No matter what other games Dad suggested, I wouldn’t leave that skee ball game.
“Pax,” he said, after a couple of hours of it, “I’m glad you love that so much, but little dude, we have to get home before your mom sends Uncle Joss out after us.”
Just then, a big guy with a beard and a baseball cap pulled down low stepped between Dad and me.
“Joss, huh?” he said, his voice sounding raspy. “I was right, then. You are Walsh Clark—big, fancy, rich rock star, yeah?”
I looked around the strange man and saw Dad glance at me. I knew by the look on his face that something wasn’t quite right.
“Yeah, man. I’m Walsh,” he said, giving the guy a tight smile.
The man reached behind him and put a hand on my shoulder before he pulled me out to stand next to him. His hand squeezed my shoulder a little too tight, and I squirmed, trying to get free.
“And this must be your kid,” he said, looking down at me with
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