Chapter 5
Francesca
“Five hundred, seventeen dollars and ten cents?” my father said right before he tossed the money onto the carpet.
“How the hell's that shitty amount of money going to help me out, Franny? Huh?” His eyes bugged out of his now red flushed face.
“This guy's gonna take a piece of my hide if I don't pay him soon. Is that what you want?” His arms flew up in anger.
“Is it? Do you want him to kill me, Franny?
Is that it? Do you want him to get rid of me?
What'll happen to your sister? Hmm? Do you want her out there working the streets?”
I'd been working odd jobs and getting paid under the table. This last job only needed me for a week. And I thought five hundred bucks was a good amount for the light hauling and cleaning work I'd been hired to do at a store downtown. They were opening soon and needed temporary help with the setup.
“Of course not. I'll try harder this week. I promise,” I said, having absolutely nothing to show for that plan. I'd been grabbing crappy side jobs for months to help my dad get out of a—bind. That was what he called it.
My sister and I knew it was from a gambling debt. It didn't take any critical thinking skills to figure that out. Our father had a problem with gambling. Among other vices.
But gambling was the one that had caused the most damage over the years.
“You better believe your ass you will!” my father yelled and stood up on wobbly legs.
He'd been drinking. Not that he ever really stopped.
But I had cleaned off the coffee table before I'd left for work this morning.
And right now, it was littered with empty beer cans and two full ashtrays.
He bent down and gathered up the bills that were scattered on the stained carpet.
When he was finished, he stormed out of the living room and stomped up the stairs.
A few seconds later, the sound of a door slamming made me jump.
“Cripes. You really pissed him off,” Felicia said. She picked up a pack of cigarettes and slid one out to light. She wasn't a heavy smoker. Not really. But she probably went through a half pack or so a day. Maybe less.
“Can't you find anything that pays better?” She exhaled a plume of smoke from between her lips. “Something more permanent?”
I'd tried very hard during the time I'd been here to be kind to my sister.
She hadn't brought in anything close to the money I had.
But my patience was growing more than thin.
I leaned over and started gathering up the empty beer cans.
“Nobody's hiring right now. And I don't exactly qualify for any high paying jobs.” I stood and walked over to the kitchen.
I grabbed a garbage bag of empties and tossed the used cans in there.
Then I dragged it with me to the living room.
I bent down and picked up the cans on the floor.
“There are jobs that don't require applications, Franny.” She laughed and sucked on her cigarette.
I didn't appreciate the direction she was taking. “Maybe if you got a job, it would help?” I suggested for the umpteenth time since I'd moved back home.
She gasped, but didn't have a chance to speak.
My father got there first. His voice boomed from the top of the stairs. “Fee's working a guy!” Dad stomped down the stairs. “She'll get a bigger payoff in the end than you will.” He pointed at me.
“When's this payoff going to happen?” I looked at my sister. “It's been weeks and all he's given you is a few hundred bucks for a new dress.” A dress that she'd bought. He needed her to go out to some work function with him. Other than that, he hadn't handed over any money whatsoever.
“These things take time, Franny. And you'd know that if you went out there to find your own rich guy. But, no,” he put extra emphasis on the last word, “you're too good for that.
Aren't you? Fee's sacrificing her body every goddamn day for the cause. And all you can do is find shitty paying jobs that only last a day or two.” He pulled his jacket off the chair by the front door.
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Try harder,” he said and disappeared out the door.