July 11, 2004 Road Trip Home
JULY 11, 2004
Road Trip Home
JOEY
“You’re going the wrong way.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Do you want to drive?”
“No.”
“Then shut up !”
She gasped in a loud breath. “I’m offended!”
I shrugged.
“Say ‘sorry.’”
“No.”
She folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “Do it.”
I laughed. “No.”
“I want an apology.”
“And I want a million euro,” I said, laughing. “Tell you what, you’ll get your apology when I get my money.”
She glared at the side of my face for a few moments longer before her expression softened. “Hey, Joe, do you think I’m dramatic?”
“Only when you’re awake.”
Her glare made a reappearance. “Now I want two apologies.”
Her phone started to ring then, and she quickly answered the call. “Hello, Father, this is your favorite child speaking.”
Rolling my eyes, I concentrated on the road ahead of us while she rambled on to her dad.
“Yeah, we had a great time,” she said, ripping off the wrapper and popping a lollipop into her mouth. “Yeah, Casey really enjoyed the festival, too.” She paused to wink at me before continuing with her conversation. “Yeah, I’m totally safe, Dad. I’m really getting the hang of driving.”
Yeah fucking right.
“Okay, Dad, I’ll see you tonight. Yeah, yeah. Okay, love you. Bye.”
Hanging up, she tossed the phone on her lap and twisted in her seat to face me. “So, I had a really good time this weekend, boyfriend.”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Molloy.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” she shot back with a grin. “You’re my bitch .”