“What’s got you in such a hurry?” he said loudly, cutting through the noise.

The jukebox kicked on blasting classic rock.

I finally gave in and spoke to him. Maybe this guy could offer some help. “I lost a friend. I was told he was here.”

He kept staring at me, a strange expression on his face. “You’ve got some wicked eyes.”

I touched my face, a little confused by his mention. “Yeah, it’s not my favorite part of me.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” he said, trying to keep our conversation going.

I nodded, finally finding Mason. He was in the corner sitting with a table of guys and girls, throwing back shots.

“I’m Asher, by the way,” he said, coming to stand beside me. He followed my stare. He touched me with his hand, offering me a handshake. I was sure I never met anyone named Asher while I lived in Gusby.

“Nice to meet you, Asher,” I said, giving a polite nod. He was taller than I was, pale complexion and a set of straight teeth. Not too bad looking for his age.

“And you are?” he asked, studying me with his brown eyes.

“Kendall,” I said. It didn’t matter to me if Asher knew my name or not. I didn’t think he knew me. It wasn’t like we were plastered all over Gusby like we’d originally thought.

“Hmm,” Asher said.

Someone pushed past me. I turned to tell whoever the jerk was to back off. He was older with a strange set of eyes—eyes that I’d seen before. In fact, I saw those eyes on a regular basis.

I sucked in a knowing breath as his mouth turned up, revealing a gap-toothed smile.

“Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he declared, slugging Asher in the arm. They knew each other. Asher forced a smile, puzzled.

I could hardly believe my eyes. I tried backing away to escape what I had stumbled upon, but there was nowhere for me to go. The bar was filled to capacity, leaving me prisoner.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Asher asked him.

He took a swig of his beer, the biggest grin on his face as he watched me try to make a break for it.

“Asher, this here is your sister,” he said, letting out a laugh. “Remember your momma and I used to fight all the time about Joy-Ann?”

Asher nodded hesitantly.

“This is your half-sister. Boy I sure hope you’re not here for any money. I got three child supports coming out of my checks already. And I’m on parole,” he said, as if I cared.

“I’m not here for you at all…Dad.” I spat out his name. I never imagined I would see this man—the man who’d denied me from the start, but there he was right in front of me.

“I thought you were in prison,” I yelled over the noise.

“Good behavior. There’s so many in there they have to kick someone out. How’s your momma?” he asked, as if I gave a damn.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen her,” I said, crossing my arms.

I looked just like him—same eyes, same mouth shape, same chin. He wasn’t old and worn out looking like I’d imagined he’d be.

I moved on past my long lost father and slammed my fist down on the table where Mason was sitting. His new friends seemed a bit put out by my rudeness, but I didn’t care. Mason was totally wasted and I had reached my breaking point.

A short redhead gripped his shoulder, egging him on. She poured him another shot and pushed it in front of him.

“Mason, we have to leave right now,” I said, watching him spill the shot on the table. He smiled and shook his head.

“He’s having a good time,” the redhead said. She took the shot from him and brought it to his lips.

I smacked it out of her hand with one quick swipe. It flew past her, slamming into some guy’s back before falling to the ground. She was startled and looked to her friends for support. They just turned and walked away.

“I suggest you leave before I smack you next,” I warned her.

Mason stopped me before I climbed over her, prepared to knock the smug look off her face.

He stood up and almost fell backward before I caught him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I said in his ear.

“I saw the bar and I was thirsty,” he slurred. “By the way, we’re all out of Roger’s money.”

I held back the urge to beat him. “Let’s go right now,” I ordered, pulling him by the arm.

With no warning, his legs buckled and he fell beneath the crowd.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as everyone’s attention fell on Mason and me. I tried to remain cool while trying to figure out how to get Mason out of the bar.

Asher and Leon walked over in time to observe my dilemma. Leon grabbed Mason easily. A cigarette hung loosely from the side of his mouth. Asher helped him by taking the other side.

They yelled at everyone in their way to clear a path; something I would have never been able to do on my own.

“Don’t I know you?” Leon asked Mason. He lifted his head to get a closer look at him.

Mason swayed and fell into the side of the bar.

“I don’t think so,” Mason told him, sliding down the wall. “I’m Mason Vaughn, son of Payton. You probably slept with her somewhere along the line. Who knows? She slept with everything back then.”

Leon didn’t argue. And I was quite confident it was possible Mason’s mother and my father might have slept together.

“Where you guys headed?” he asked us, puffing on his cigarette.

I shot him a glance, but turned away quickly as he unzipped his pants and took a leak right on the side of the bar. I turned away, disgusted.

“Get up, Mason,” I demanded.

Asher helped me lift him, slinging one of Mason’s arms over his shoulder.

“You two staying at Motel 7?” he asked as Leon worked his zipper up and followed behind us as we walked.

“Yeah, something like that,” I said with a sigh. After tonight, we would be without a place to stay at all because of Mason’s drunken binge.

“It was nice meeting you. I’ve heard about you, but never knew what you looked like. You have his eyes. There’s no denying you’re his,” he said, laughing nervously. It was as awkward for him as it was for me.

“He only drinks on Thursdays. He works so much he really never has a moment’s rest. And then there’s the little ones on the weekends. That takes a toll on him, too.”

“Little ones?” I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer. “And how old are you?”

“Pops has five kids. Well, including you that makes six. I’m nineteen. The only thing I ever knew about you was we were born six months apart,” he explained. He tugged Mason straighter as we continued down the sidewalk to the motel. Mason was in and out of consciousness.

“I never knew that,” I admitted.

“There’s me, Conner, Seth, Abby Gale and Quincy. Twelve-year-old twins, seven-year-old girl, and a five-year-old boy. And he means well, I know it wasn’t that way with you, but he means well,” Asher insisted.

We stopped in front of Motel 7 and Asher opened the door. I wish it would just be over already. It was all too much meeting my father and a brother I didn’t know I had.

I handed the key to Asher. My father leaned against the motel. “Can we talk?”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” I asked, stepping back.

He straightened up and pulled out another cigarette. He offered me one, but I declined.

“I’m your old man. I have plenty to say to you,” he said, lighting up.

“Probably nothing I want to hear,” I said.

“How have you been? How’s life?”

I held back the tears. I never expected a question to hurt so much, but this was like a knife to my heart.

“Really?” I balled my fists. “That’s what I get after nearly twenty years?”

“I was a dumb kid messed up on drugs. I barely knew your momma. She was always coming down to my house to eat supper. I thought she was pretty. I was a boy with a hard-on, what can I say?”

There was so much to be said, like why?

“Nothing.” I turned to leave.

“You have family here, Kendall—a family you could be a part of. And I’m sorry for whatever it was you went through. But I honestly wouldn’t have made it better back then,” he said, and then fell silent.