Oh yeah. That was her name. “You two need to chill out,” Getty said. “Go for a walk, and while you’re out there, find a damn job and your own place to live.”
Getty normally wasn’t this vocal when it came to his father, but those wine glasses had meant a lot to Getty.
Bimbo—because Getty loved calling her that—picked up the salad bowl on the table and whipped it at Getty’s father’s head. His father ducked, and the bowl hit the wall, shattering.
“I wouldn’t have to get money from other sources if you knew how to hold down a job, Dick. I don’t even consider you a man. Real men know how to take care of theirs. All you know how to do is drink and slide between my legs.”
“Stop!” Getty gagged as he held up his hands. “I don’t want to hear any of that.” He turned to her. “Throw one more thing of mine and I’ll put you out on your ass.”
Which was what he should do, anyway. She contributed nothing and wasn’t even family. Getty didn’t owe her a damn thing, but he was certain he couldn’t throw her out. Not physically. One, she would be petty enough to call the cops and say Getty assaulted her.
Two, Bimbo wasn’t a small woman. She wasn’t fat, but she was thick and could probably kick his ass or claw him to death with those long nails she loved to wear.
“Throw one more thing at me and I won’t be responsible for what I do,” Getty’s dad threatened.
Getty was shocked. He’d never heard his father threaten a woman before. He and Getty’s mother had gotten into some bad fights, but he’d never raised a hand to her. Getty hadn’t thought his father was the type to strike a woman.
“Dad!”
His father glared at him. “What? She ain’t no woman. She’s a gold-digging slut who thinks if she puts out, a man should cater to her every fucking need.”
Getty was floored. Not even in the worst arguments his parents went through had his father talked this way. It was as if he was staring at a stranger.
Bimbo shrieked and picked up a drinking glass, whipping it at her boyfriend. Getty’s dad snarled and rounded the table. Bimbo rushed behind Getty, as if he could stop his father from getting to her.
Getty held his arms out. “Both of you need to stop acting so childish. Adults talk about their problems. Only toddlers resort to this.”
A solid headache formed, and Getty wished he were already at Donnchadh’s place. He’d rather be anywhere but here.
His father came up short and shot daggers at her. “Get away from my son. He’s not going to help you, bitch.”
Wow. Just…wow.
She grabbed Getty’s shoulders, and he felt her nails digging into him. Getty winced and tried to pull away, but she had a tight grip on him.
“Stop.” He tried to pull away again, but she wouldn’t let him go. “You’re hurting me!”
Then she flew backward, landing on her ass. Getty spun, wondering what in the hell just happened.
“See,” his father said as he jabbed a finger at her. “You’re so drunk that you can’t even stand up straight. Take your ass upstairs and calm the fuck down.”
Getty was still trying to figure out how she’d flown away from him. It hadn’t been a drunken stagger. He hadn’t even smelled booze on her breath.
She pushed to her feet, flipped them the bird, and stomped upstairs.
“Women,” his father growled as he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t even offer an apology for their behavior. Getty was so pissed that he wanted to smack them both.
He stormed to his room and packed a bag with clothes and personal things. Then he grabbed his laptop bag and shoved his laptop inside, along with the cords and other things he would need.
Getty was glad he’d agreed to stay at Donnchadh’s. There was so much stress at home that he knew he wouldn’t be able to work. He didn’t even care that he was the one leaving, just as long as he didn’t have to deal with those two.
They could clean up the glass. There was no way Getty was going to clean up after their fight.
He dropped onto the bed and cradled his head in his hands. How had his life gotten this bad? First his dad and Bimbo moved in, making his life miserable, and then a hellhound had tried to kill him.
What Getty wouldn’t give to go back to normalcy, where his father was living somewhere else and Getty didn’t know otherworldly things existed.
Then you wouldn’t have meet Donnchadh. As crazy as it was, Getty would’ve regretted not having the guy in his life. It might’ve started out as a one-night stand, but he’d become the only sane thing right now. He was kind and sexy, and Getty didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky.
The guy was even willing to let Getty escape for a while.
His head jerked up when he felt something brush his arm. Getty looked around and then sighed.
He really did need a vacation. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could handle. Too bad he couldn’t ask Pete to come over and kick them out.
His brother never got involved when it came to their father. He hated Richard Jones with a passion. If it had been any other person who Getty was having issues with, Pete would’ve been there to help him.
Family truly sucked sometimes.
Getty got up and pulled the strap to his gym over one shoulder, the strap to his laptop bag over the other. He didn’t want his father to know he was leaving. Bimbo might try to break into his room.
Getty went to the window and dropped his bags out onto the lawn, right behind the row of bushes under the windowsill. He’d get them when he went outside. Once he closed his window, he left his room, made sure he locked his bedroom door, and headed down the hallway.
His dad was cleaning up the glass. The shards made a tinkling sound as they gathered in the dustpan.
“Why do you stay with her?”
His dad didn’t look up. He just kept sweeping, his shoulders hunched, his posture bent. “I guess I don’t want to be alone.”
Getty would take being alone over dating someone who made his life miserable. He never understood people like that. Were some so desperate for companionship that they’d… Getty sighed. Getting away from this wasn’t the only reason he was going to Donnchadh’s. He, too, was desperate for companionship.
But at least Donnchadh didn’t treat him like crap. And if he did, Getty would be out of there real fast.
He left his father to clean up the mess as he walked out of the house, grabbed his bags, and loaded them into the car. He didn’t bother to look up to see if Bimbo was watching him.
Getty slid behind the wheel and drove back to town, questioning his motives. Was he hoping that Donnchadh was the real thing, that the guy could make him happy? Was he so desperate to get away that he would run to anyone who offered shelter from the brewing storm at home?
Donnchadh wasn’t even human. He was a demon, for fuck’s sake. A demon. That should’ve terrified Getty. Instead, his heart quickened when he pulled in by Bistro.
Donnchadh was standing outside the coffee shop, smiling at Getty. Fuck, he was so damn handsome. That smile lit up his eyes. Donnchadh walked toward the car and opened the driver’s door, offering his hand.
Getty took it and got out.
“Ready?”
“Are we taking my car since your vehicle situation is complicated?” Getty wondered if Donnchadh was broke. Why wouldn’t he own a car? God, he hoped the guy wasn’t a deadbeat. Getty had enough of them in his life already.