Page 52 of Hollywood

As much as I wanted to be there for Hollywood, disappointing my dad was hard. Especially when he’d gotten his teeth into a new idea. He was a powerful steamroller and trying to push back could get me flattened.

I’d worry about that later, though. For now, I just grunted an affirmative at my dad and got back to planting bushes. By the time we packed up for the night, I was filthy, exhausted, and starving.

Dad didn’t push for a drink out at the bar tonight, obviously as tired as I was. He drove us over to Chastity’s rental house, where she lived with her three kids, Dylan, Robbie, and Lanie.

“What time do you want to start tomorrow?” I asked as he parked in the driveway.

“Better make it early,” he said grimly. “Five a.m. if we want to finish by dark.”

“I actually have to leave for Riverton by three or so.”

“What the fuck for?”

I grimaced, knowing he wouldn’t like what I was about to tell him. But there was no choice. I couldn’t rejoin Redemption Road and then bail on the first meeting.

“I’m going back, Dad.”

“Back,” he said, brow furrowed.

“To the work program over there,” I clarified. “I’m moving back. My parole officer is there. My friends.”

“You mean other ex-cons?” His lip curled. “Hardly the influence you need.”

“Theyarea good influence,” I argued. “They’re putting their lives back together, too.”

“And how will you keep working for me if you live over there? We have to start damn early on some of these landscaping jobs. You’re not going to want to commute at four in the damn morning.”

“I know.” I met his eyes with difficulty. “That’s why I have to quit.”

A deadly silence dropped between us. Dad worked his jaw, his face red—and not just from all the sun he’d gotten today.

“Let me get this straight,” he said in the quiet, calm tone that spelled real trouble. “You let me think I could count on you, worked the piddly-ass jobs all summer as we got established, and now you’rebailingright when I’m about to hit the jackpot?”

I let out a breath. “I told you it would be temporary.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wejust talked about expanding this business together. We get in good with Weiss and the college and we’re golden, Tex. It’ll be just like before?—”

“We were going bankrupt before!” I exclaimed.

My father looked as if I’d hit him. “No, that’s not true. We were good. We weregreat. If you hadn’t broken the fucking law?—”

“Breaking the law was the only thing keeping the business afloat. Why do you think I did it?”

“Because you were stupid,” he said shortly, “and selfish. You were too impatient to let the business grow. You just had to line your pockets.”

“All the profits went back into the business, Dad. I wasn’t getting rich. I was?—”

“No,” he snarled. “That’s not what happened. You’re just revising history to make yourself feel better.”

I shook my head. “Have it your way. It doesn’t matter, does it? I went to prison, and you lost the business.”

He clenched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Damn right. You ruined us, but you’ve got a chance to make it right.”

My chest ached. “I made a bad business partner before. I will again.”

“You owe me this,” he said. “You owe me another chance.”

I thought of Hollywood and Ruby, waiting for me to return. Of Matteo, who’d filled out three sets of paperwork to return me to the program. Of Knight, Ghost, and even that punk kid Joyride, who’d stepped up for one another.