Chapter 16: I Become Involved With a Dangerous Crime Lord
"Groceries!" my dad yells as he comes through the front door, reusable bags hanging from his arms. "All in one trip too. How you like that, honey? Huh, huh?" He waggles his eyebrows at Nat as he kicks the door shut behind him with a clumsy swing of his leg.
"Oh, and what a surprise! My beautiful daughter has emerged from her cocoon of isolation!" He dumps the groceries on the ground and plants a firm kiss on the top of my head. "What's the occasion? Is the First Minister stopping by?"
"Leave her alone," Nat says and swats at him with a bag she's emptied.
"I'm only teasing. You know I'm only teasing, sweetheart, eh?"
"I know," I say and push myself off of the stool I'm perched on.
My dad laughs and pulls me into a headlock, ruffling my hair. "Ah, I missed you, my girl."
"Dad, stop," I whine and try to twist out of his grasp.
He lets go with one last chuckle. "Alrighty, little lady, have you changed your bandages yet today?" he asks.
"I'm going to," I respond and help Nat unload the groceries. "I just haven't gotten to it yet."
"It doesn't take long," he says.
I shoot him an exasperated look over my shoulder as I load three cartons of blueberries into the fridge. "I'll do it after I help Nat. God knows you won't. And what's with the blueberries?"
"You said you liked them," he says and starts unloading groceries to spite me.
"I do like them," I say. "But this is a bit excessive, don't you think?"
"I don't know. You're a growing lady," he says and shrugs his shoulders.
"I'll make muffins," Nat says, the perfect mediator.
"My evil plan," my dad says with a wide grin. I giggle when Nat plants her hands on her hips and fixes him with a sharp look.
"You know, you should think about what you buy," she says. "I don't want anything to go bad. We can't afford for anything to go bad."
"I know," Dad sighs. "I go a little crazy when my girl's home."
Nat's face softens into a smile. "I'll freeze some too. We'll just not buy blueberries for a while."
"You know," I say, tracing my finger along the edge of the countertop, hoping to sound nonchalant. "I just stumbled across a pretty chunk of change in my travels that could go toward groceries. Or an apartment. Or anything else we might need."
"No. End of discussion," my dad says immediately.
"No, let me finish," I say and sit down at the one of the stools. "Here's what happened. So, I was walking, right?"
"Mhm," he hums, but I can tell he's not buying it. He can tell when I'm making things up. So what's the point of making it believable?
"And this guy comes running up to me."
"Yeah? What'd he look like?"
"Oh, big guy. Brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, missing three out of four limbs. Not important. So, he comes running up to me—"
"How did he run without legs?"
"He had one leg and one prosthetic. Try to keep up, old man. So, he's all panicked, right? Says he's in trouble with the big guy."
"Who's the big guy?"
"Easy. Mafia stuff. So, anyway, this guy comes running up to me and starts saying how I have to take this money from him, and I'm thinking, 'What? Why is this guy trying to give me his money?' Well, he says he's in trouble with the mafia boss and he can't have the money on him. Pretty much, he thrusts it upon me, and now it's my problem."
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