Snow Flakes (Burnt Ashes #0.5) by K.E Taylor

Author:K.E Taylor
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Published: 2014-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

“When are you going to grow up, Samuel? It’s never going to happen,” his angry voice thunders. I try my best not to wince.

“Dad, you haven’t heard us. We’re really good,” I say earnestly.

“Yeah?” he scoffs. “When has anything you have ever said or done sounded good?” His words hit me harder than I would like to admit. “Sooner or later, you are going to pull your fucking head out of the clouds, and you are going to see what a good thing it is here.”

“Sure, Dad…,” I groan. I finish polishing a sixteen ounce tumbler and put it back on the shelf.

“Excuse me?” he says, setting his pencil down on the invoice ledger.

“We got offered a spot last night. We get to perform there on a regular basis. If we draw in enough people, we’ll even start to get a cut of the—”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re just like those fucking other losers on Myspace.” He smiles sinisterly before leaning back over his ledger. He has a half-filled glass of bourbon next to him, his second of the morning, and it is only ten am. I struggle to bite my tongue, knowing what will happen if I say anything else.

“What?” he chides, throwing back the two fingers worth of caramel-coloured mixed grain, blowing out a huff from the effort. “Nothing to say?” My blood runs cold. He is only like this around Christmas…

“Come on, Dad. Give it a break.”

“Gooooooood morning!” Chace says, walking through the front door, taking his coat and beanie off. “Good morning, Collin. How are you today?”

“Collin?” my dad snaps. My gut feels like it has been flash frozen in liquid nitrogen. “Since when are we on a first name basis?”

“Since I am not trying to date your boy, I don’t need to address you as mister, right?” My dad grunts in response. “How’re you, Sam? Your head hurting from last night?” Chace asks.

“I feel great. Just great,” I say, looking at my dad. Honestly, I feel so goddamn relieved Chace came in when he did. My dad should be more hospitable with him here. I think it’s just the drink. It makes him leery.

“Whatever happened to that blonde you took to practice?”

“She, uh—”

“Blonde? I know it can’t be a girl, so what’re we talking about? A golden retriever?!” my dad jokes.

I half smile, but continue with the glasses before moving on to restocking the fridge. My dad wanders over, putting his empty glass on the bar. “Two more fingers, barkeep,” he orders. I move to the glass, then hesitate. Chace is still putting his things away.

“Dad, don’t you think you’ve had enough? It’s still early in the mor—”

He reaches over the bar, and grabs me by the front of the shirt, pulling me close. A button pops off as I register his face twisted with rage, his breath smelling so sour that I can feel my eyes starting to water, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he fumes.

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