Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Was your dad always like that?”
“Pretty much. Nothing was ever good enough for Alexander Webb. Did you know he wrote some critically acclaimed movies in the nineties? He never let us hear the freaking end of all his amazing accomplishments.”
“I’ve heard people like those movies,” he says, smiling slightly. Everyone knows my father in the business and everyone worships the ground he walks on, even though he hasn’t written anything for years, every single film he’s ever been involved with has been a huge success.
He’s still referred to as the writer with the golden pen in the studios, and it makes me sick. If they knew the sort of asshole they were enabling, I like to think they’d stop treating him like a prince—but it’s Hollywood, and I shouldn’t be so naive.
Doesn’t matter if you’re a monster in the world of glitz and glamour, so long as you make money.
“He never let us forget it. Even when we were young, he’d make sure that we understood he was the head of the household because he wrote a bunch of hit movies. And now, looking back on it, that’s not really a sign of a very stable and healthy man, is it? But we didn’t know any better.”
“No, when you have to brag to your kids and act like a bully, that’s probably not good.”
“The worst part is, he wasn’t wrong. All my life I’ve dealt with people wanting to get to know me just to catch a glimpse of my famous father. I can’t tell you how many dates I’ve gone on that ended with the guy asking about Alexander Webb and if maybe I could introduce them sometime. It’s sickening, and each time I want to explain that actually, my father is a piece of shit and has made my life miserable, but it’s never worth the stress.”
He sighs and bends down to grab a stick, breaking it into pieces as we get closer and closer to the farmhouse. “That must’ve been hard.”
“I think it’s even worse for Max. I handled it by getting out of that house as soon as I could, but Dad got harder and harder to deal with over the years. Max takes the brunt of it now. There’s a reason my little brother is living with me instead of at home with his father. Nobody’s around to help him anymore.”
“Family is hard,” Baptist says with a grim shake of his head. “You’re a good sister for letting Max stay with you. I’m sorry you had to deal with all that growing up.”
“I’m still dealing with it. You think my dad’s changed at all? Hell no, not even a little. He’s still constantly criticizing me, reminding me that he’s the successful one in the family and the rest of us are freeloaders, making sure I know that I’ll never be as good as him. I’m the guy’s daughter and he treats me like this, imagine what he’s like to work with.”
“I’ll never know. I don’t even like his movies that much. They’re pretty boring.”
I laugh. I don’t know why, but I find that hilarious. He smiles back, not sure what to make of it, but the laughter is cathartic. I really need a release right now, and cracking up about that stupid joke is exactly what I wanted. Finally, we reach the house, and my laughter slowly fades as we stand at the edge of the crumbling front porch and stare at the broken windows covered over with plywood, and the moldy facade beginning to fall apart. It looks like it hasn’t been occupied in twenty years or more, but that can’t be right. The fields are still somewhat barren and not completely overgrown, which means it couldn’t have been more than a season or two since this place went dormant.
“We’re not going in there,” I say quietly as a bad feeling shivers down my spine.
“No, we’re definitely not.”
“I bet Cowan wants us to.”
“Fuck what he wants.” Baptist takes out his phone and starts snapping pictures. “Let’s get this over with. We’ll document this as much as we can and give him an honest report, and if he wants someone inside, he can come here himself.”
I follow his lead. We move around the exterior, photographing everything from as many angles as we can, along with the fields in the distance and another barn structure on the edge of the fields. He wanders off to get a closer look while I remain at the main house.
Around back, I find a loose board over one of the windows and yank it free. I can just make out a corner bedroom: floral wallpaper, wood floors, dirt and mud and something rusty-red spread in a corner. There’s a bedframe, metal, no mattress. Like something from a prison.
Small squares are tacked to the opposite wall. Small somethings all placed in a cluster. I shove my phone through the hole and snap a few pictures, not sure what I’m looking at, before I pull back and zoom in.