She was alone. I was alone. I was company. So I indulged her. "Why don't you expect him to come back?" "Oh, he left with some blonde. Went to the bathroom, he said. But I know the drill. He's been doing this since I was ten." This father seemed like a colorful character. I would make sure to keep him for one of my novels. "Divorced?" I asked without thinking. There was no stopping my intuitive and narcissistic nature from showing itself at every opportunity. She was understandably taken aback. She took another sip and said, "Yes, obviously. I just wish he wouldn't take me to these things. When I was young it made sense but now it's just..." "Right. Of course, sorry." She was silent so I drank. Her eyes shifted as she shadowed me. "Every time you drink you get more nervous," I said, the alcohol making me bold. "Yes, so?" "You aren't supposed to be drinking are you?" "I'm 19." Now I understood everything. While her father was out hitting on his new girlfriend, she had swiped a drink. . covered in bodily fluids."A shudder passed through me. I didn't want to think of what that meant. "She's a victim. Why did they arrest her?" I don't know. But she's down at the City Jail." Let's go," I said, downing my scotch. "My baby girl isn't spending another minute in jail." "Your limo's waiting out front, sir."The City Jail was newly built on the outskirts of town, and I fumed the entire, ten minute drive across town. It was Saturday, and the streets were dead even though dawn was only a little way off. The eastern horizon was already lightening, gray stealing across the black skies. I drank another scotch, wiping my ruddy face, and tried to keep my anger under control. Why had they locked up my baby girl? Heads were going to roll.My limo pulled up and I jumped out before my driver could even get out, and strode like an angry bull into the prison ready to kick some ass and take some names and free my daughter from this fucking place.A prison guarded waited for me, tall and.
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