Philips (Sequel to De Santa)

Chapter Thirty Seven

"Chels?" I jolted up in my seat, staring at Michael as he stood a few feet away.

"Dad?" I yawned. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Since when did you move outside?" I looked around and smiled, I was in the backyard.

"Ah...this is news to me."

"You alright?" Dad asked as he sat in the lounge chair beside me.

"I'm fine," I nodded. "Just couldn't sleep, so I decided to go for a walk back here."

"Doesn't look like you did much walking."

"Guess not."

"You sure you're alright? You've been a little off lately."

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Dad looked me over with hesitation before letting out a sigh and laying back in his lounge chair.

"I'm gonna miss this."

"What, no beaches in Vice City?"

"None as close as this one is to here at least. If this house pans out for us, we'll have more privacy than anything."

"Oh...cool."

"I really am sorry about all this, Chels. I just don't know any other way to protect you."

"I know; you tried your best, and that's all I can ask for." I gently placed my hand on Dad's and gave him a smile. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Dad. I mean it."

"Thank you," Dad smiled. Dad gave my hand a squeeze before letting out a sigh of content.

"Still couldn't convince Jim or Tracey to come with us?"

"Jim is debating. He said if he can't find a new bass player soon, the band is threatening to break up."

"And Tracey?"

"She doesn't want to abandon Amanda."

"I get that," I nodded. "It's admirable."

"You know, I didn't see it at first, but I see a lot of similarities between you three."

"Really? I think I'm more like Jim, to be honest."

"Nah, you're like Trace, too. She loves to shop, you love to shop, Jim..."

"Smokes weed?"

"Yeah."

"And is outgoing and sweet."

"So is Tracey."

"Okay, you've made your point," I chuckled. "When is your flight?"

"Not for another two hours. Wanna drive me to the airport?"

"I thought you were taking a taxi?"

"I can, but I thought it'd give us some time to spend together. I feel like I barely see you anymore."

"It's all a part of growing up," I smiled. "Yeah, I'd love to drive you there, Dad."

"Great, but you'll need to change first." I looked down at my pajamas and laughed.

"What? I can't go in my skivvies?"

"You really like to push my buttons, don't you?"

"It's my favorite pastime," I smirked. "Besides, they're not skivvies really, more pajama shorts and a tank top."

"Nice try, now get dressed."

"Yes, Dad," I teasingly rolled my eyes and made my way upstairs. My room was cold and empty, I wished Trevor could've stayed, but he needed to take the plane back from wherever he got it. He called it "our plane" but it was more "our borrowed plane." That man is gonna be the death of me...or the reason I go to prison.