Page 34 of Old Habits

Chapter 10

Jovie

Exhaustion’s a bitch. Being on my feet all day, lugging around boxes and counting inventory is one thing. Doing so with all of this emotional weight on my shoulders is another thing entirely. Between that spat with Will and the run-in with Sara, I’m ready to curl up in a fetal position and sleep for days.

Just a few more steps and I’ll be able to do just that.

I walk into my father’s house and my nose instantly twitches from the scent of cigarettes and booze.

“You’re late.”

Hank sits in his chair with both suspects in either hand. The bottle is nearly empty and the cigarette is down so low it’s about to burn his fingertips.

I sigh as I pass by him. “I was working.”

“I mean your rent!”

I pause in the hallway. “I told you I get paid next week,” I say. “And we agreed that I could pay for repairs on my car first. You gave me an extension. Remember?”

“I need it now,” he slurs.

“Well, I don’t have it now.”

He gestures at me. “You had enough to buy new clothes.”

“These are old,” I say. “From high school. They were in my closet.”

“I need it now!”

I close my eyes. “I don’t have it.”

“Then, get out!”

“Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

“The fucking bank.”

“It’s nine PM.”

He growls as he tries to stand up but he slips and falls right back down. “Jovie—!”

I hold my head in my hands, feeling the harsh pulse of blood pounding inside. It hurts but I honestly don’t have enough left in me to scream.

“You know what? Never mind.” I spin around and bolt down the hall to my room.

“Where are you going?!” he shouts after me.

I don’t answer. I grab my backpack off the floor and stuff the necessities inside. My wallet, my keys, whatever pieces of clothing are handy and within reach.

As I step into the hall, he’s managed to pull himself out of his chair but he leans on the wall to keep himself upright.

“What’s in your bag?”

I cut through to the kitchen and escape out the back door.

“Jovie!”

I’m sure the neighbors are going to love this. There goes old Hank Ross, shouting out into the night after his wayward daughter, Jovie. No wonder she’s so screwed up. No wonder she’ll never amount to anything. Look who raised her, after all.

Some things never change.

No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to shake off the stigma of being Hank Ross’ daughter. Clover sure as hell won’t let me forget it.

I walk down the street, pulling my jacket a little tighter around me as a cold wind slaps my face.

Now what?