In Between Times (Complete Novel, Mastered May 12th, 2022)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

— Rockon stilts

Secret Lover – Jobo The BearGod ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

AMELIA:

"Get lost, Harold. This house is in Chaise's name, and he doesn't want your ass here," I say loud enough for him to hear. I continue to look at the man that is supposedly my father — through the window next to the front door. He's pissed at me, but he has no right to be.

It's seven o'clock in the morning, and I need to be at work in about an hour. Harold's face is not what I wanted to wake up to. His old wrinkly face. His piece of shit flannel, and his muddy jeans. I don't have to look at his feet to know he's wearing fucking — boots.

Rain boots, actually, which shoots people the vibe of who he really is. It never rains in Vegas. He's an obvious rat that hates himself and everyone around him. Everyone knows he's a disgusting person just by looking at him, his appearance, the way he carries himself, his words, his actions. Harold isn't a good person.

"Let me in," he demands in a slurred tone as he continues to bang on the door. I really don't feel like calling the damn cops this morning.

"Fuck off!" I yell.

I don't have the patience in the morning for this man. He needs to listen to me.

"Bitch, let me in!" he yells at me as his dark, brown-colored eyes flare with anger.

He's a drunk asshole, and I'm extremely tired of him. Out of everyone in my life, he needs to just disappear. I'm not the only one that feels this way, we all do.

"I will call the cops if you don't leave this house," I promise, as my nostrils flare in frustration. I won't call them this morning, because I must go to work soon — but if he is still here when I wake up tomorrow morning, I will.

I roughly throw my fingers through my matted hair as I look down at my plaid pajama shorts and caramel-colored tank top. I literally just woke up, and I'm already in a shitty mood. Thanks to Harold, who is obviously fucking father of the year. He's not my father.

He doesn't have a comeback, but his face is turning red from the anger that I know is coursing through him. I curtly turn on my heel and walk towards the hall so I can get dressed for work.

I don't have time for Harold's shit. His ass is no longer welcomed here by Chaise, so I will gladly tell him to shove it. I'm tired of taking care of his needy, drunken ass. I don't give a flying shit about him, so why should I buy food and allow him to eat it? I don't wash his clothes or cook for him, of course, but I buy the food and he does eat a lot of it. I don't have the words "bitch maid" plastered across my forehead, so it's not like he should expect me to act like one.

Before I walk past Robert's bedroom door, his head pops through the crack of it.

"What the fuck, why won't you let him in? He's annoying as hell," Robert groans as he carelessly drags his hand over his face sleepily.

He's only complaining because he's hungover. Which, that is his own damn fault.

"Did you forget he's a piece of shit? Chaise said he's banned for good, remember?" I question him.

He almost laughs, but quickly stops himself as he irritably rests his hand over his forehead.

"Chaise always says that, but never means it. Hell, if Harold leaves for good... then that would be fucking awesome. I just don't think he's going to leave. Not unless you call the cops or something, " he suggests.

I roll my eyes as I hear Harold beat on the door again.

"I already told him I'd call the cops. He just looked at me like an airhead and started breathing so heavily I could hear it through the glass window. He's so weird and unhinged. He's pissed off because he has nowhere else to go."