Family Values
Feb. 26th, 2011 10:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_scrappyA lazy midwinter afternoon found Ames breaking her steady takeout-and-pizza diet in favor of a simple dinner of bacon and rice, the former of which she was flipping with her spatula while she hummed along to the music pumping through her earbuds. Suddenly, she felt the dull vibration of her phone against her hip. She glanced from the bacon-- done now, and likely to start burning if she left it a few seconds longer-- to her pocket, then with a sigh she raised the pan from the stove while using her other hand to pluck out her earbuds and wriggle her phone free of her pocket.
When she saw the number on the caller ID, her good mood evaporated.
"Heya, Ace." Chirped the caller.
Ames nodded slowly.
"Hi dad."
"Been a while kiddo."
Hot oil pinging her face drew Ames back to the present. She grimaced and dropped the pan on the trivet she'd set out earlier, and scooped the bacon onto a plate. Then she tucked the phone against her ear and stepped around the flimsy partition separating the kitchen from the living room.
"Yeah, it has. So how much do you need this time?"
"Woah, woah! Well how's that for a hello? A guy can't call up his own kid every now and then, just because?"
"I'm sure some do." She said flatly.
"C'mon Ace. Cut your old man some slack."
Ames flopped onto her sofa, then slung her legs over its arm while she draped her wrist over her eyes and started massaging her sockets with the back of her hand.
"Fine. What do you want, then?"
"To see how you're doing for starters! I haven't heard from you in what, a year and a half? I was startin' to get worried."
She sighed.
"I'm fine, dad. I've been busy at work, I haven't really had time to--"
"Busy at work? As in, a legit job? You busing tables again or something?"
"No. God no. I'm working fives."
"Oh." She could hear the grin in his voice. "So you're keeping busy, huh? You workin' for anyone in particular, or...?"
"Sort of." She said. "It's not my usual angle, but it's a good gig."
"What do you mean not your usual angle? You a narc now?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Please. Pretend like you know me at least a little, dad."
"Well, what am I supposed to think, you saying stuff like that?"
"You're supposed to think I'm taking care of myself and getting on just fine."
"No details, huh?"
"Nope." Ames grinned.
"Uh huh. Well Ms. Mysterious, I hope you're not too busy 'cause I might have a job for you."
"I don't take outside work anymore--"
"Not that kinda job. Well. It is that kinda job, but it's not for anyone special. Actually, it is. It's for me."
"For you?" She raised an eyebrow. "What do you need exactly?"
"Dunno. Nothing in particular. Just, you know. Something worth in the neighborhood of, oh, a hundred and fifty grand?
In the kitchen, Ames' egg timer shrieked to life.
"Ames? Ames?" Her father said cautiously. "You there, sweetie?"
"WHAT?!" She leapt to her feet and started pacing the living room. "Dad, don't tell me. Just, just don't tell me that you--"
"Sweetie, it was a sure thing--!"
"Of course it was, you're always sure. And you surely end up neck deep in shit every time, how the hell did you bet $150,000? Where were you gonna get that kinda money if you lost?"
"Actually, I bet $175,000." He said meekly. "I had some."
"You bet--" She let out a frustrated snarl, then shook her head. "And? The rest of it?"
She could hear him swallow.
"The way the 49ers have been going, I didn't think they could lose--"
"God, dad." She dropped onto the sofa again and raked her fingers over her scalp. "Let me guess. Collections paid you a visit."
"I've tried everything, princess. I've used up all my time. You know I wouldn't be calling you if it weren't an emergency."
"Believe me, I know." She spat.
She squeezed her eyes shut and cupped her forehead with her hand.
"Dad. I can't. Really, I can't. The last job I pulled like that nearly lost me my new gig; these people don't look kindly on my taking side jobs. More importantly, though? I'm tired of being your Plan B. I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life bailing you out every time you screw yourself over."
"Ames, this'll be the last time, I promise--"
"And you say that every time too. Every goddamn time."
She stood up again and stormed into the kitchen to punch off the egg timer, which had been blaring for the last five minutes in the hopes that someone would eventually notice. As an afterthought she turned off the burner under the rice, as she could already smell the not-quite-unpleasant smokiness of burnt grains.
"Ames--"
"No dad. Not this time."
"Sweetie, if I don't fork over the cash by Friday, they're gonna kill me."
She froze.
"They told you that? Like, to your face?"
"No, but it was heavily implied. I'm already a week overdue. Ronnie sent some friends'a his round to pay me a visit and let me know what's what. The short of it is, if I don't have $150,000 by Friday night, the odds of me being around to regret it Saturday morning aren't that great."
"Wait, Ronnie? As in Ronnie Slick? You made a bet, and you used Ronnie Slick as your bookie? Dad..."
"He's the only one who'd take my bet!"
"'Cause everyone else knows that you aren't good for it!"
"Ames, sweet pea, please. I'm desperate. No one's willing to lend me money, and no one's gonna stick their neck out to help me get some."
"And I will?"
"You're the last chance I've got. "
Ames could feel a headache building behind her eyes.
"I can't."
"Please, kiddo. You do this and I swear to God this'll be the last time you ever got to. Trust me Ames, after this I'm not placing another bet in my life."
"Yeah, right."
"Ames, you gotta believe me. This is the real deal. I don't know what else to do. Sweetheart...I don't wanna die."
Ames thonked her head on the kitchen cabinet. Then, she let out a sigh that seemed to rattle up from her toes.
"Fine."
"You mean it?"
"Yeah. I'll think of something. Just...hang tight, okay? If Ronnie's boys come by again, let them know you'll have the money to them on time."
"Ames, you're an angel--"
"Don't thank me." She snapped. "And this is the last time, understand? If you call me again after this, I'm not picking up."
He laughed nervously.
"I could always count on my Ace in the hole."
Ames jabbed the end call button, then threw her head back and screamed into the smoke-filled kitchen air.
When she saw the number on the caller ID, her good mood evaporated.
"Heya, Ace." Chirped the caller.
Ames nodded slowly.
"Hi dad."
"Been a while kiddo."
Hot oil pinging her face drew Ames back to the present. She grimaced and dropped the pan on the trivet she'd set out earlier, and scooped the bacon onto a plate. Then she tucked the phone against her ear and stepped around the flimsy partition separating the kitchen from the living room.
"Yeah, it has. So how much do you need this time?"
"Woah, woah! Well how's that for a hello? A guy can't call up his own kid every now and then, just because?"
"I'm sure some do." She said flatly.
"C'mon Ace. Cut your old man some slack."
Ames flopped onto her sofa, then slung her legs over its arm while she draped her wrist over her eyes and started massaging her sockets with the back of her hand.
"Fine. What do you want, then?"
"To see how you're doing for starters! I haven't heard from you in what, a year and a half? I was startin' to get worried."
She sighed.
"I'm fine, dad. I've been busy at work, I haven't really had time to--"
"Busy at work? As in, a legit job? You busing tables again or something?"
"No. God no. I'm working fives."
"Oh." She could hear the grin in his voice. "So you're keeping busy, huh? You workin' for anyone in particular, or...?"
"Sort of." She said. "It's not my usual angle, but it's a good gig."
"What do you mean not your usual angle? You a narc now?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Please. Pretend like you know me at least a little, dad."
"Well, what am I supposed to think, you saying stuff like that?"
"You're supposed to think I'm taking care of myself and getting on just fine."
"No details, huh?"
"Nope." Ames grinned.
"Uh huh. Well Ms. Mysterious, I hope you're not too busy 'cause I might have a job for you."
"I don't take outside work anymore--"
"Not that kinda job. Well. It is that kinda job, but it's not for anyone special. Actually, it is. It's for me."
"For you?" She raised an eyebrow. "What do you need exactly?"
"Dunno. Nothing in particular. Just, you know. Something worth in the neighborhood of, oh, a hundred and fifty grand?
In the kitchen, Ames' egg timer shrieked to life.
"Ames? Ames?" Her father said cautiously. "You there, sweetie?"
"WHAT?!" She leapt to her feet and started pacing the living room. "Dad, don't tell me. Just, just don't tell me that you--"
"Sweetie, it was a sure thing--!"
"Of course it was, you're always sure. And you surely end up neck deep in shit every time, how the hell did you bet $150,000? Where were you gonna get that kinda money if you lost?"
"Actually, I bet $175,000." He said meekly. "I had some."
"You bet--" She let out a frustrated snarl, then shook her head. "And? The rest of it?"
She could hear him swallow.
"The way the 49ers have been going, I didn't think they could lose--"
"God, dad." She dropped onto the sofa again and raked her fingers over her scalp. "Let me guess. Collections paid you a visit."
"I've tried everything, princess. I've used up all my time. You know I wouldn't be calling you if it weren't an emergency."
"Believe me, I know." She spat.
She squeezed her eyes shut and cupped her forehead with her hand.
"Dad. I can't. Really, I can't. The last job I pulled like that nearly lost me my new gig; these people don't look kindly on my taking side jobs. More importantly, though? I'm tired of being your Plan B. I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life bailing you out every time you screw yourself over."
"Ames, this'll be the last time, I promise--"
"And you say that every time too. Every goddamn time."
She stood up again and stormed into the kitchen to punch off the egg timer, which had been blaring for the last five minutes in the hopes that someone would eventually notice. As an afterthought she turned off the burner under the rice, as she could already smell the not-quite-unpleasant smokiness of burnt grains.
"Ames--"
"No dad. Not this time."
"Sweetie, if I don't fork over the cash by Friday, they're gonna kill me."
She froze.
"They told you that? Like, to your face?"
"No, but it was heavily implied. I'm already a week overdue. Ronnie sent some friends'a his round to pay me a visit and let me know what's what. The short of it is, if I don't have $150,000 by Friday night, the odds of me being around to regret it Saturday morning aren't that great."
"Wait, Ronnie? As in Ronnie Slick? You made a bet, and you used Ronnie Slick as your bookie? Dad..."
"He's the only one who'd take my bet!"
"'Cause everyone else knows that you aren't good for it!"
"Ames, sweet pea, please. I'm desperate. No one's willing to lend me money, and no one's gonna stick their neck out to help me get some."
"And I will?"
"You're the last chance I've got. "
Ames could feel a headache building behind her eyes.
"I can't."
"Please, kiddo. You do this and I swear to God this'll be the last time you ever got to. Trust me Ames, after this I'm not placing another bet in my life."
"Yeah, right."
"Ames, you gotta believe me. This is the real deal. I don't know what else to do. Sweetheart...I don't wanna die."
Ames thonked her head on the kitchen cabinet. Then, she let out a sigh that seemed to rattle up from her toes.
"Fine."
"You mean it?"
"Yeah. I'll think of something. Just...hang tight, okay? If Ronnie's boys come by again, let them know you'll have the money to them on time."
"Ames, you're an angel--"
"Don't thank me." She snapped. "And this is the last time, understand? If you call me again after this, I'm not picking up."
He laughed nervously.
"I could always count on my Ace in the hole."
Ames jabbed the end call button, then threw her head back and screamed into the smoke-filled kitchen air.
