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“Yeah.   Here’s the messed-up evils of gamblings proved.   Jonathon – he won.   Won a shitload.   He fucking won.”

Harm’s dad, proving Texas Hold ‘Em does pay, provided you’re willing to sell your fucking soul and your daughter’s inheritence for the win.   Wanker.   Harm pinions my shoulder with purple fingernails to make sure I’m still listening, and reaches into her punk Lolita bag with the other hand.

“That’s not everything, though.   He says to me, ‘Honey – I’ve been a shitty kinda dad for you.’   And I think, well – yeah.   Duh.   Then he’s all, ‘I know I can’t, just, make up for that, but here – quick,’ and then he gives me his bank card, all panicky.   ‘I put it all on here – and I haven’t touched it yet.   But you know I’m gonna.   So spend it.   Spend it quick.   Take that trip you’ve wanted since you were a little girl – take your sister and her family.   Book it now.   Spend it now.'”

Harm’s excited, but her eyes are dull with something too – old pain maybe, and some scorn and pity trying to cancel each other out.   It’s interesting to watch.

“So look, Jonathon.   Look.”

She waves the ticket at me

“I’m going to Europe.   Me, and Caroline and co., and we’ll just fucking hope Dad hasn’t sold everything in the house by the time we get home…”

Huh.   Oh – right.   Empathy.   Pretend to display some.

“Fuck – Harm.   That’s fucking awesome…”

She grins, and shoves the ticket at my chest.

“It gets better, Sunshine.   You’re coming with me.”





  1. uh-oh. i’d better start being careful when i go outside…

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