three - names & games

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In a huff, I storm back into the condo, my arms filled with groceries and my head in a cloud of confusion and some other emotion that is not quite appropriate to explain. 

As soon as I step into the room, I am (again) bombarded by the heavy smell of weed. 

Seriously, can they not crack a window or something? 

"Hey, where were you?" My father slurs, and I turn to face him and I almost drop my groceries in surprise. The group of them are still sitting around the living room table, but most of them are half dressed. Including my father who is shirtless, showing off his premature beer belly and his large random tattoos.

"Better question, why are you naked?!" I shriek. 

The group gawfaws, and a thickly bearded man in the corner chortles, "You got yourself a prude of for a daughter, West." 

I turn to face the wizard-looking SOB, and I set the groceries down on the table. Who the hell does this random warlock think he is?

"Excuse me?" I ask him, placing my hands on my hips and narrowing my eyes in my death glare. Seriously, my mother used to tell me that this look could fry an egg. 

He mumbles something under his breath, turning his attention back to the cards in his hands and pretending not to notice my bitch-ray gun. 

"Well?!" I turn back to my father, who is laughing at something the half-dressed woman next to him said. Yeah, those boobs are definitely fake. 

"Chill out, Katya. It's just strip poker. If you're going to be a buzzkill go to your room." 

Now that is definitely not how you are supposed to send a child to their room. 

"Whatever," I roll my eyes and prepare to walk away, but I turn back. "Oh, and by the way, make sure to tell DQ or whatever to leave me alone." 

At my words, the room goes completely silent and I freeze. 

What the-

My father turns to look at me, his eyes wide with confusion and shock and he stands up from the couch, his girl complaining as he stands. 

He moves towards me and he carries the stench of pot with him. Jesus he needs to take a shower. 

"Who told you about DQ?" He hisses, his eyes narrowing. I step back, not out of fear but out of confusion. 

"Some guy at the convenience store, what the hell is the big deal?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders. Why is everyone wigging out about freaking Dairy Queen? I mean, I like ice cream as much as the next person but seriously this is getting into cult-territory. 

"Who?" He whispers dangerously, and I huff in annoyance. 

"I don't know his name, he's Latino, has a piercing on his eyebrow and his lip, grey eyes-"

"Luka." 

I freeze at the name. There's something about it that is so familiar but I can't put my finger on it. 

"If you say so, it's no big deal he was just being a douche bag."

"Don't go near him again." My father barks, but the edge in his voice loses some of its affect when he burps.

I wave my hand in front of my face to get away from the odor and I grab my groceries from off the kitchen table. 

"Listen, I didn't go near him. He went near me. So maybe you should talk to Luka or whatever." I snap and I storm away from him, leaving the stench of pot and cigarettes behind me. 

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