Page 8 of Hollywood

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice so gentle it set off alarms. “It’s serious. I went down to the ER and found Ruby. She’s only got a few scratches on her arm.”

“Oh god,” I said, nausea churning. “She was in the car?”

“Yes, but the child seat protected her. She’s too young to really understand what happened. That’s a blessing, okay?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah.”

“I stepped in before they could call child services, but you need to get here.”

“I will.” I handed the phone back to Knight. Everyonewas staring at me. “Carrie’s been in an accident. Ruby needs me. I have to go.”

Knight stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah,” Joyride added. “Me too.”

“I’ll put out the fires and be right behind you,” Ghost said. “Go. Your little girl needs you.”

I nodded and ran for the car.

Dozens of awful what-if scenarios spun through my mind. What if Carrie died? What if she was so badly injured she could never take care of Ruby again? As much as I wanted to know my daughter, I didn’t want that.

My heart pushed into my throat. What the hell did I know about being a father, anyway?

CHAPTER 2

Tex

I patteddown earth with the flat side of my shovel and raised my shirt to wipe a film of sweat from my face. It came away with a layer of dirt. Ugh. I needed a shower like yesterday.

“You almost done over there, Jed?” my dad called from his spot on the other side of the front porch.

I inwardly cringed at the use of my given name. The kids at school had given meTexas a nickname when our family moved from Texas to Nebraska when I was fourteen, and it was the best gift I’d ever received. Because it meant I didn’t have to be Jedediah.

Only my father still used the name. Mom did too, before she’d died from breast cancer when I was sixteen. Somehow, it’d sounded less awful in her soft, loving tones.

“Jed! Are you listening?” my father bellowed. Yeah, the man wasn’t soft. He wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Yep.” I smoothed the dirt and ensured it was packed down nicely. “I’m all good here.”

Finally.

We’d spent hours burying gutter extensions underground to improve the drainage around a two-story stucco monstrosity in the Belvedere neighborhood near Hayworth College. One of the college deans lived here, and Dad was excited to get the landscaping job with such a prestigious family.

Personally, I thought money made most people bigger assholes. I’d make an exception for Hollywood, since he lost everything and went to prison, but the rest of them could go to hell.

Dad came over to look at my handiwork, such as it was. He nodded. “That’ll do.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’m ready to crack a cold one. How about we head over to Keg Haus and I buy you a beer?”

I hesitated. “I need a shower.”

Even in September, it was too damn hot to work all afternoon, but Dad had taken the job on a tight timeline. We’d had no choice but to sweat our asses off and risk heat stroke to get it done.

“Come on,” he cajoled, giving me a little shake. “One beer with your old man first. I want to talk to you about the business.”

“The business?” I said blankly.

Dad picked up odd jobs here and there. I wouldn’t call it a business. I’d helped him out because parole required me to be employed, and it had been easier than submitting applications all over town.

“Yeah! This job is a big deal,” Dad said. “With a good word from a college dean, we could really expand. Larsen Landscape Architects. It has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”