Page 16 of Sinful as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #1)

SAWYER

Jesus fucking Christ.

Who the fuck did Holly think she was showing up at my place out of nowhere like that? I glared at the back of her fancy white car, watching as she drove away, until she was nothing but a spec in the distance.

I was nothing but a fucking charity case to her. Me and Brodie. She didn’t care. I knew she didn’t really care. She felt bad for her fuck up and came over to make amends. Too bad Brodie wasn’t home. Too bad she got me.

The smell of her stupid, sweet perfume stayed in the air as I turned around and stormed back into my house.

My feet were heavy as I swung open the door, coming face to face with the man I had come to hate, the one I had just been fighting with: my own father.

He had enjoyed destroying one of my paintings just minutes ago.

“Who the fuck was that?” Dad asked with a snarl.

“Who?”

“That fucking girl that was out there. Who was that?”

“Some girl from school.” I tried to make my way past him, but he held a heavy hand to my shoulder. “What?”

“That your girlfriend?”

I had to genuinely laugh at him. Probably the first time I ever genuinely laughed at something he said – and not out of fucking pity or sarcasm.

“No,” I told him slowly. “She’s not my girlfriend. She was dropping something off for Brodie.” I showed him the notebook, holding it up for him to see.

Why did he look at me like he didn’t trust what I was saying? He was always like that. He thought every word I said to him was a lie. It had been like that since I was a kid. Since I was old enough to string some words together and he was strong enough to punch the taste out of my mouth.

“Huh… Brodie’s girlfriend then?”

“In Brodie’s head, yeah, they’re married and have three kids.” I tossed my cousin’s book to the small dining table.

“She’s pretty…”

I rubbed the back of my head. “And? Her big fucking mouth ruins that.”

“Not like you have a chance with a pretty girl like that, anyway,” he finally grumbled out his insult.

He had gone a good ten seconds without putting me down. A personal best for him. I chuckled, though, shaking my head at the idea of Holly Sutton ever being someone I could ever fucking like.

“I’m not interested in her.”

“You’re not interested or you scared she’d fuckin’ run away if you ever asked her out?” He grinned. “Like I said – you don’t have a chance with her.”

“I don’t want a fuckin’ chance with her,” I muttered, turning my back to him.

I wasn’t in the mood to argue. Holly had never seen where I lived before.

I mean, everyone at school knew I called Mills Mobile Home Park home, but none of them had ever been over besides Owen and maybe a couple other guys.

The last person I ever wanted showing up was Holly, so I was still trying to process that she had seen my place.

But I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. Dad spun me around and pushed me up against the wall, that grin still on his face. He was shaky on his feet. That meant he was drunk, but when wasn’t he?

“What the fuck do you want? You wanna destroy more of my stuff?”

“You… You don’t turn your back on me like that,” he spat out. “Not when I’m talking to you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You wanna fight over this? Really? Is this how you wanna spend your afternoon? You don’t have a few more bottles to empty?”

His fists clenched at my shirt tighter, holding me right up against the wall.

I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

I could see the glazed look in his eyes.

He was going to pass out any minute with how much beer he had been chugging all day.

His slurred speech and the empty bottles near the lounge confirmed that fact.

“You tryna impress your little girlfriend or something?” he asked lowly. “She ain’t here, kid. So why are you tryna act like a big man?”

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend . I just told you that a minute ago – or are you so drunk you’re forgetting shit already?” I scowled at him when he pulled me forward an inch, only to shove me backwards, my head hitting the wall.

All that did was make me angrier. I didn’t like putting my hands on my dad, but I had done that before and would do it again if I had to. He was an easy target. But I’d always defend myself when it came down to it: just like I told Holly.

“You always fucking talk back. Just like your mother. She should have taken you with her. It’s a shame she hated the sight of your fucking face so much.” He chuckled.

I pushed at him. Hard. He stumbled backwards before getting his footing back.

He threw a punch that I easily dodged. Then another one.

Then one more. I was tempted to hit him back.

To smash my fist into his chin and send him into a daze.

But he just looked so fucking pathetic in front of me that all I could do was watch him.

“Fight me like a real man,” he slurred. “Fight me. Hit me. Hit me as hard as you can. Bet I’m still here standing.”

“Get the hell away from me,” I mumbled. I shoved past him, but he pulled at my shoulder like earlier so I was facing him.

I breathed heavy, staring down at him, looking down into his eyes.

They looked just like mine. Bright green.

But his were all murky and fuzzy. “I’m not in the mood for your shit. ”

“You’re a pussy. You’re too scared to fight me. You can’t fight your old man. You know I’d kick your ass. You know I’d make you fucking cry. ”

“This make you feel like a big man? Huh? Begging your own son to fight him while you’re drunk out of your fucking mind? That make you feel good?” I asked with gritted teeth.

“Pussy,” he repeated. “Bet you’re too scared to ask that pretty, little gal out. What, you think you have a chance with her? Bet you she thinks you’re pathetic. Bet… Bet she thinks you’re not good enough. You don’t have a fuckin’ chance, you little—”

My fist bawled up and it met his eyes before I could control myself.

All I saw was red. Red that mixed in with the insecurities I very much liked to keep bottled up.

Dad fell backwards, hitting the back of one of the dining chairs.

That was the only thing keeping him upright.

His eyes darkened as he looked at me, looking even more pissed off, but all he did was let out a heavy breath. He stayed there, slumped on the floor,

“You should be happy I even let you… Let you live under my fucking roof,” he let out.

“You forgetting who pays rent, asshole?”

“Little bitch. Get the fuck outta here. Putting your hands on your old man. What kinda fucking son…”

I watched as he mumbled under his breath, his words suddenly going even more incoherent. His eyes shut and I rolled my own. That didn’t take long. He’d be out for the next few hours, and I had to get to fucking work.

The shop was only a few minutes from the trailer park. Despite only being eighteen, Marve was more than happy to let me work on cars for some spare cash.

My eyes looked to the clock. I was already running late. I grabbed my leather jacket, swung it on, and shoved the door open. My dad would drink more when he woke up and give me more shit when I got back home. That could be dealt with later.

It was only a ten-minute drive to Marve’s. My hands held the steering wheel tight as I made my way there, counting how many new pot holes appeared on the road.

Marve’s shop was in the middle of town – but the spot had been picked on purpose. You had to drive past it to get anywhere good, meaning we got more customers. I was the youngest guy there, but most of the other mechanics had no issue with me thanks to my experience.

“Anything completely fucked?” was the first thing I asked Marve after entering the main building of the shop. The place wasn’t too busy for a Monday afternoon. Only a couple of people were in the waiting area.

Marve smiled at me, his blond hair long and messy. “You need a distraction, huh?”

“Big time.” I didn’t want to think about my dad. Or Holly. She was always around now and I needed to get her out of my life already. Thanks Brodie…

“Nothing too damaged today.” Marve shrugged, stepping from behind the desk. “You got some rich guy’s car that came in this morning: a fancy ass Mercedes. You wanna finish that up? He’ll be here in about an hour or two.”

“Yeah, it’s mine.” I gave Marve a nod, pushing my way through the office door and around to the shop. I stopped a couple times to greet a few of the other guys before I zeroed in on the Mercedes.

The black car was very clearly out of place when compared to almost every other vehicle I was looking at.

About once a week, we had some rich guy come in.

Marve was the only honest mechanic in the city, and rich guys had the habit of wanting to hold on to their cash as much as they could.

So they would wonder on in, looking to keep that wealth.

I always told Marve he should have just told them to fuck off. He never listened to me.

A quick look at some notes told me the Mercedes was having some alternator problems. Easy fix.

I shrugged off my leather jacket, tossing it to a nearby desk as I got to work.

I got paid by the hour, plus there was a little commission that made the cheque that little bit fatter.

Marve shut late, usually around ten, so working a good four days was enough for me to scrape by.

Repairing cars usually reminded me of painting. There was an art to it. There was some magic. And it let me get lost in the little things for a while. Sometimes I got too caught up in my head… like with Holly. Fucking Holly. I rolled my eyes. She didn’t even realize what a pain in the ass she was .