Post by ledelbrock on Jul 12, 2022 7:23:55 GMT -5
Stakeouts were the worst.
They were long. And boring. And more often than not, I ran out of snacks after an hour.
Now that I think of it, running out of snacks might be the actual worst. Stakeouts were the runner-up.
We’d stocked the motel room with food when we checked in, so I grabbed an extra family-sized bag of popcorn from the tiny table and shoved it into my backpack. I’d already packed a few candy bars, some crackers, and two energy drinks, but you could never be too careful.
What else did I need? I checked the nylon tool belt Dad had laid out on the blue flowered bedspread. He’d attached a flashlight, several pairs of heavy duty handcuffs, and pepper spray. Standard bounty hunting stuff. But what we’d be hunting tonight wasn’t standard. Not even close.
We needed pure silver.
I sifted through our gear bag, searching for just the right thing. “Is the throwing star too much?”
Dad stuck his head out of the motel bathroom, his dimples barely visible through his reddish beard. “What have I taught you?”
“Don’t eat a gas station burrito after 9 p.m.?”
“While true, doesn’t apply here. Try again.”
“If you see a stray dog, pet it. Might be the only love it gets that day.”
Dad shambled into the room. “Don’t play dumb, Zeppelin Pearl. You know what I mean.”
I did. He drilled this particular lesson all the time. I just didn’t agree with it. “Less is more.”
Dad nodded his approval. “That’s right. No need to get weighed down with extra gear. Makes running and fighting harder than it needs to be.”
“Safer than it needs to be, is more like it,” I grumbled. My eyes watered as he got close. Ew. “You smell like a zombie that’s been slimed by a poltergeist and dipped in old yogurt.”
He beamed as he buckled the belt around his filthy jeans and covered it with the hem of his stretched out t-shirt. “Thank you.”
One thing about Dad—he’s all-in when under cover. Stench included. I held out the throwing star and a folded net made of silver. “It wasn’t a compliment, old man. Take these. Just in case he decides to be difficult.”
“Don’t need them. I already have the crossbow stashed and ready.”
Of course he did. Dad was one of the best bounty hunters out there. I should have known he’d already prepped. I stuck out my tongue, and he ruffled my hair. “Aw, don’t be mad I’m two steps ahead of you.”
I sniffed. “That’s only one step.”
“Did you check the moon chart?”
Dang it. “Yeeessss?”
Dad arched an eyebrow.
“No.” I hated when he was right.
“Well, I did. Quarter moon. Nothing to worry about tonight.”
My heart squeezed. He might say nothing to worry about since it wasn’t a full moon, but I’d been in enough sticky situations with Dad to know every job was one to worry about.
They were long. And boring. And more often than not, I ran out of snacks after an hour.
Now that I think of it, running out of snacks might be the actual worst. Stakeouts were the runner-up.
We’d stocked the motel room with food when we checked in, so I grabbed an extra family-sized bag of popcorn from the tiny table and shoved it into my backpack. I’d already packed a few candy bars, some crackers, and two energy drinks, but you could never be too careful.
What else did I need? I checked the nylon tool belt Dad had laid out on the blue flowered bedspread. He’d attached a flashlight, several pairs of heavy duty handcuffs, and pepper spray. Standard bounty hunting stuff. But what we’d be hunting tonight wasn’t standard. Not even close.
We needed pure silver.
I sifted through our gear bag, searching for just the right thing. “Is the throwing star too much?”
Dad stuck his head out of the motel bathroom, his dimples barely visible through his reddish beard. “What have I taught you?”
“Don’t eat a gas station burrito after 9 p.m.?”
“While true, doesn’t apply here. Try again.”
“If you see a stray dog, pet it. Might be the only love it gets that day.”
Dad shambled into the room. “Don’t play dumb, Zeppelin Pearl. You know what I mean.”
I did. He drilled this particular lesson all the time. I just didn’t agree with it. “Less is more.”
Dad nodded his approval. “That’s right. No need to get weighed down with extra gear. Makes running and fighting harder than it needs to be.”
“Safer than it needs to be, is more like it,” I grumbled. My eyes watered as he got close. Ew. “You smell like a zombie that’s been slimed by a poltergeist and dipped in old yogurt.”
He beamed as he buckled the belt around his filthy jeans and covered it with the hem of his stretched out t-shirt. “Thank you.”
One thing about Dad—he’s all-in when under cover. Stench included. I held out the throwing star and a folded net made of silver. “It wasn’t a compliment, old man. Take these. Just in case he decides to be difficult.”
“Don’t need them. I already have the crossbow stashed and ready.”
Of course he did. Dad was one of the best bounty hunters out there. I should have known he’d already prepped. I stuck out my tongue, and he ruffled my hair. “Aw, don’t be mad I’m two steps ahead of you.”
I sniffed. “That’s only one step.”
“Did you check the moon chart?”
Dang it. “Yeeessss?”
Dad arched an eyebrow.
“No.” I hated when he was right.
“Well, I did. Quarter moon. Nothing to worry about tonight.”
My heart squeezed. He might say nothing to worry about since it wasn’t a full moon, but I’d been in enough sticky situations with Dad to know every job was one to worry about.
