I take a seat next to Hollis, Fox on his other side—Cannon has gone outside for a smoke break.
Hollis has been distant the last few days and I don’t know why. I suspect why, but we haven’t discussed it.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask, picking up a crinkle fry and dipping it in ketchup.
“No,” he sighs, and the word is honest. His golden eyes meet mine. “I’m worried.”
“About my dad?” I guess.
“Yeah,” he confesses. “It feels wrong, him not knowing. I see him five days a week Mia. Sometimes even on the weekends if he’s feeling particularly Hitler-ish.”
“Did you just call my dad Hitler?” I joke, my lips twitching with the threat of laughter.
“Okay—that was wrong of me, but he should know Mia.”
“I know,” I whine. “I know,” I repeat in a defeated tone. “I’ll talk to him soon,” I promise.
He gives me a look.
“I’m serious. I will,” I vow.
I know with my birthday coming up, and Christmas, I can’t keep this a secret any longer because I want Hollis to be there for those things.
“We can do it together,” he says reaching for my hand under the table.
I shake my head as Rush cheers. “It’s just a spare!” I yell at him. “I got a strike!”
Rush gives me the finger and the mother at the lane beside us makes a disgusted face and storms away—no doubt to report us to management, but I mean she’s the one bringing a five-year-old to the bowling alley at eight at night on a Friday.
To Hollis I say, “I think it’s better if I do it alone. Otherwise, he might kill you.”
He laughs and it’s good to see the light come back into his eyes. “Do you really think he’ll resort to murder?”
I give him a look.
“Right,” he drawls.
Fox leans over to Hollis. “Not that I’m eavesdropping or anything, you are right next to me, but um … yeah … Hayes would totally kill you. He probably will even if she tells him alone.”
“Thanks for the boost of confidence, Fox,” Hollis grumbles.
“Yeah, my dad’s not that bad.”
They both glare at me. “Okay, so he’s overprotective. But he’s a father. It’s his job. He’ll get over it. I’m turning twenty-three in two weeks. I’m an adult. I make my own decisions and my dad can’t tell me who I’m allowed to love. That’s not the way it works.”
“You go girl,” Fox says in a fake valley girl voice and high fives me. “You tell him.”
“Hey, what does the fox say?” Rush butts in.
“Not this again.” Fox rolls his eyes.
“Nobody knows what the fuck the fox says, but the Rush says it’s your fucking turn get off your ass.”
“See,” shrieks the mother from beside us, now returned with a manager. “They are heathens. They need to leave.”
“Oh clutch your damn pearls, Myrtle,” Rush groans. “You’ve got a kid, so I don’t know why you’re so offended by the words fuck and pussy.”
She stares open-mouthed.