Blood Loss Book 1

Chapter 4

Morning came too soon as the chimesfrom her phone's alarm blared through her makeshift bedroom. Stacyrubbed at her eyes with a lethargic palm trying to swipe away thesleep.

Stretching, she looked up andremembered she was in Oakland, not New York. The sticker stars andplanets still marked her ceiling, though the light of morning meantthey no longer cast the odd-greenish hue from the night before.

She checked her phone for the time:8:17 a.m. There was also a voicemail.

Vowing to play it later, she forcedherself out of bed and into her nearby slippers, which grabbed holdof her bare feet and snuggled them in fluff. It was cool in the housethanks to her father's insistence at keeping the thermostat somewherebetween the temperature settings of deep space and the arctic circle.

I'll fix that real quick,she thought. He's gotta get used to living with womenagain.

In her pajamas andslippers, she set about getting ready for her first day back inOakland in three years. There was entirely too much to do. Aside fromheading over to Andy's place to see that side of her family, sheintended to go over to her mother's apartment. She was staying at herfather's because the police still had her mom's apartment onlockdown. Something about it still being a crime scene.

A part of Stacydidn't want to be there without her mother, anyway. Sleeping in hermother's bed, eating her food and leaving the apartment disturbed herwithout the two of the together. The alternative was paying for ahotel – Andy's place was full with other family members – and shedidn't have the discretionary money to do such a thing.

So, it was back toDad's.

After finding thethermostat and stuffing a couple pieces of toast in her mouth as fastas she could, Stacy made a pass at the bathroom to take a shower.There, she vowed, she would find at least temporary relief from thechill of the air. The warm air had yet to trickle its way into thatportion of the house, so it was up to the hot water to do the trick.By the look of the steam rising from the bathtub as she turned thewater to the setting she desired, it was going to be a beautifulexperience.

She wasn't wrong.At first, her skin tingled under the sudden heat change, but thewater caressed her and held her in a warm embrace. Better thansex, she thought. Well, better than some sex.

Retreatingto her bedroom to grab some clothes, she found her father in themothball room across the hall. Faceplanted in his papers, he wassound asleep. A barely-audible snore made her giggle. She thoughtabout how sore his neck would be and considered waking him up to gethim to bed. But as she maneuvered into the room, trying not to maketoo much noise so she didn't startle him awake, he shifted around andleaned back in the chair, his head rising from its spot down on thedesk to flopping backward as he reclined backward.

"Jeez, Dad,"she mumbled. "You're going to break your neck sleeping like this."She tapped him gently on the shoulder to no avail. So she rubbed hisshoulder with a little force. He briefly opened his eyes, which werelooking straight up at her as she hovered over his unimposing frame."Good morning," she said.

He responded witha uninterested snort before closing his eyes again. "Ever themorning person," she said.

From her currentpoint of view, she could see her father was trying to grow a beard,or hadn't bothered to shave in two or three days. Little stubble hairpoked through the skin on his chin and along his cheeks. It hadn'tfilled in connecting them together, though.

The skin aroundhis eyes was darkened, too, with bruises from a lack of quality sleepmaking him look like a raccoon or one of those old-timey televisionburglars with the black masks. She recoiled a step thinking about thecrime that took her mother's life.

"What time isit?" he grumbled, snapping her from her thoughts.

"About 9:30,"she said. "You slept on this chair?"

"Apparently."Bruce stretched his arms and legs to the point Stacy heard the jointscracking. It was a disturbing cacophony of sound that seemed like asymbol of old age. She didn't want to ever hear her body pop thatmuch in just a couple seconds time. A part of her brain wanted tomake sure he was still alive.

"I'm heading outfor a bit," Stacy said. "I want you to go lay down in a bedbefore your hurt your neck."

"Since when doyou care what I do?"

The question tookher back. She struggled to find an answer. She honestly didn't. Herfather had mistreated her in her childhood. He put work before familyin every instance and was more a stranger to her than even people shesaw in the audiences of her performances. "Look, we're stucktogether right now. I may not like it, and you may not like it, butthis is our reality. And while we're stuck, I'm going to try to takecare of you. Those bruises under your eyes tell me you need to getsome sleep. In a bed."

"Whatever yousay," he said, dismissive tone dripping from his mouth like thedrool that marked some of the top papers on his desk.

Stacy huffed butdecided not to fight him anymore. He could be stubborn as much as hewanted. She'd be sure to give it back to him if he complained aboutbeing tired in the future. "Fine, have it your way. I'm headingover to Andy's and to visit the apartment. I think I need to see itfor myself."

"Have fun,"Bruce said through a yawn. But Stacy wasn't listening. She gatheredher purse, slung a jacket over her arm in case it was needed andheaded down the stairs. She'd left her cellphone on the kitchen tableafter finishing her toast, so she plucked it up and clicked itactive.

Another newvoicemail marked the screen, which reminded her of the one shereceived overnight. Calling it up, she noticed it had come from Tina.Walking to the door she played it.

"Hey Stacy, Ihave a surprise for you. Call me back as soon as you can."

Tina's messageended as Stacy opened the door. Standing on the stoop, though, wasthe very person who called.

 "Hey," Tina said. Stacy, meanwhile, dropped her phone and yelped from the shock.