"Before Dawn"

Chapter 28: The Edge

It's half-until midnight when Bishop walks comes to the den. Dawn is sitting in a fold-up chair. Her body is aching and she's bruised up, but she's showered and cleaned. She's dressed comfortably in baggy shorts and a loose T-Shirt. Dawn is ready for third of fourth—she's lost count—ass chewing. She's ready for him to start drinking, get loose, so he can answer two important questions. She needs answers.

"Daughter, what in the hell were you thinking?" Bishop said, searching frantically for his tumbler and bottle of whiskey. He sees the bottle of whiskey and a tumbler half-full of it on his desk. He glances at Dawn. "Thanks, but it's not going to make things easier for you." He goes over to take his seat, picks up the tumbler and nearly downs the whiskey before his ass hits the chair.

Just a few more...

"Where the hell is Jimbo?" Bishop said in after-thought.

"In the living room," Dawn answered.

"Huh? I didn't see him when I walked in."

"He's on the floor. He always sleeps on the floor when he's not feeling too good," Dawn reminded him. "On the floor in front of the couch to be exact."

"Oh. That's why I didn't see his little self."

Dawn has to keep the ball rolling. She's pressed for time. "I'm sorry about what I did," she said.

Bishop wrinkles his nose at her. His face flushes as he no doubt recalls the night's events. He guzzles the tumbler of whiskey down, and pours himself another. "That all you got to say? 'I'm sorry'?" Bishop said.

Dawn didn't say another word, pretending to be ashamed and making him feel like it's his show. Then her father lets her have it. She endures his ranting about her taking his van without permission...what would have happened had she been pulled over by the cops for whatever reason...if cops or wandering eyes had seen her at the demolition derby track...how the news will be blowing up about the carnage they'd left behind not to mention possible exposing them down the stretch...and most importantly, how she might not have been sitting there in the den right now if it weren't for the GPS he and Jimbo had installed on the van.

He'd gone on for quite some time with Dawn putting in her two cents to challenge him, to piss him off a little and make him drink more. She hates herself for what she's doing, but it's the only way to get the answers she needs to save Wesley. Soon, her dad is slouched in his chair and slurring, his anger tapering off. Now is the time to start weening him off of the subject at hand.

"You were really pissed about me taking the van, huh?" Dawn said, pouring her swaying dad more whiskey from a newly opened bottle.

"Da'amn...stwaight, I was."

"I should have taken an Uber," Dawn joked. "But why pay for a ride when I can drive for free?"

Her father gave her one of the most confused looks she'd ever seen as he re-processed her words in his head, his glazed-over eyes searching for meaning. Then, his brain received Dawn's message. The inebriated mind took over and he laughed, the whiskey threatening to jump out of his tumbler. "That's...not...not funny," he said.

"Then why are you laughing?"

Bishop shook his head, his jovial demeanor subsiding. "Maybe a little funny, then." he said. He took a swig from his tumbler.

"Heh, Dad, I have a question," Dawn said.

"Go 'head."

"Were you really that proud of me with the Mortifer-situation?"