Page 66 of Micah
The fresh starts.
The promises.
The loans.
The rebuilding.
I get so damn mad.
A memory suddenly surfaces.
Dad arguing with him in hushed voices after midnight.
“You can't keep borrowing your way out of this. Gambling is a disease, Patty!”
Gambling.
Not business.
Not bills.
Gambling.
I swallow hard.
No, he couldn’t. Patrick wouldn't. Not with my money and my credit.
Would he?
Before I can think of another question, the front door jingles.
Customers.
The first wave of Friday night.
Patrick straightens instantly.
Like someone flipped a switch.
The manic look disappears.
The smile comes back.
Easy.
Charming.
Practiced.
“I need money, so,” he says pleasantly, smoothing down his shirt. “Let's make some money.”
He walks away before I can stop him.
Leaving me standing behind the bar.
Staring after him.
My hands suddenly start shaking as I reach for another glass.
