Stupid Cupid

I don't mean to brag, but I was an online poker goddess

“Oh, no,” I said firmly, “I’m getting these questions done, so tell me where you are, because I’m coming to you. Then, you don’t have to leave.”

“Are you sure about that?” Parker replied, and I could hear the doubtful tone in his voice.

“Yep,” I quipped, raising an eyebrow even though I knew that he couldn’t see it. “Now, you can tell me where you are, but if you don’t, I’ll find you.”

“Damn, I didn’t know I was that addictive,” Parker said with an amused tone.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Hunt,” I scoffed.

“Fine, I’m at a place called Paulie’s Poker Palace,” Parker said after a moment, “I’ll see you soon, Baby Mama.”

Then, the line went dead.

Did that ass seriously just hang up on me? I thought, staring at my phone as it returned to the home screen. Parker had, and I pursed my lips and let out a frustrated grunt. Parker said he was at a place called Paulie’s Poker Palace on Milton, so I was going to drive down there and find him.

Maybe this seemed a little extreme just to get some little piece of homework done, but I was pissed. Now I was determined to get it done.

I scooted off of my bed and ran a hand lazily through my hair. Then, I changed out of the dancing banana pajama pants I had on, and I pulled on a pair of slightly ripped jeans. I exchanged my sports bra on for a regular one so that I didn’t have a uni-boob. Then, I tugged on plain, red t-shirt over my head.

I grabbed my cell phone, car keys, and dance jacket, and I hurried out of my room and down the stairs. I walked into the living room to find one of my parents, but it was vacant. Suddenly, I heard someone in the kitchen, and I walked in to find my dad doing the dishes.

If I had to pick which parent I would ask to go out on a Wednesday night, it would be my dad. He wasn’t exactly a pushover, but he wasn’t a strict guy. My mom, on the other hand, could be pretty controlling.

“Hey, sweetheart,” my dad said as he finished drying the dinner plate in his hand.

“Hi Dad,” I replied, leaning against the kitchen island. My dad eyed my jacket and car keys, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Going somewhere, Reed?” he asked, swinging his dish towel over his shoulder.

“About that,” I said, plastering on my best ‘good Christian daughter’ smile. “I have to run to my health partner’s house to finish some questions that are due tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“Is this partner a boy?” My dad asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” I answered sheepishly, “but it’s just for school. Trust me; we aren’t exactly what you would call friends.”

My dad tipped his head to the side as he thought. I bit my lip and made myself look as innocent as possible, which involved a lot of batting of the eyelashes and widening of the eyes. Finally, my dad sighed and nodded.

“I want you home by ten-thirty at the latest, Reed,” my dad stated, and I nodded vigorously.

“Thanks, Dad!” I said, and I grinned at him as I turned around and hurried from the room. I walked down a hallway past the laundry room, and I pushed into the garage. I opened the garage door and hopped into my baby, the emerald green Ford Pinto parked between my parents’ cars.

I pulled out of the garage and down the driveway, and I started down the street towards Milton Avenue. It was a popular district in LA, and was actually pretty close to my dance studio. However, there were definitely some sketchy places there.