Chapter Text
“Do you have everything you need?” Christine asked, grabbing Glenn’s coat from the closet and holding it out to him.
“Yes Mommmm,” Glenn groaned, snatching the coat and not bothering to zip it up. “I have everything in my bag.”
Christine sighed as she stepped forward to zip up his coat, he squirmed, but she zipped it all the way up, and shoved a wool-knit hat onto his head, “I’m just making sure, because I doubt if he has a toothbrush for you, let alone clothes.”
“Dad’s cool, he’s got everything important, he’s even got a gameboy! He lets me play it.” Glenn said smugly, arms crossed grinning up at his mom.
A muscle in Christine’s jaw twitched as she grumbled, “Of course he does.” A car horn sounded twice from outside, and Glenn’s eyes lit up as he raced towards the door. “Don’t forget your- Glenn! Your bag!”
Glenn raced out the door while Christine chased after him with his duffle bag. She caught Glenn on the stairs of the porch, grabbing the hood of his jacket before slinging his bag over one arm. Glenn wrestled out of her grip, and raced to the car waiting for him on the street. A cherry red ‘93 Camaro sat there with a grinning Bill Close in the driver’s seat.
Glenn ripped the passenger door open and climbed in, grinning back at his father, “Dad!”
“Hey, home skillet, how’s it hangin?” Bill asked, offering a fistbump to his son.
Glenn happily returned the fistbump, “Good, chillaxin, y’know?”
Glenn took in the image of his father. He was wearing a jean jacket which matched his baggy patched pants, and a stretched out white t-shirt with a golden chain around his neck. His hair was gelled back and slightly spiked. Had his father had frosted tips since he’d last seen him? It seemed so, but they were fading now. His sunglasses were pushed down his nose, so he could look at Glenn. Bill winked at his son before revving the engine of the car. Glenn quickly reached for his seatbelt as Bill raced off down the street, leaving behind his mother’s house in a cloud of exhaust.
As they drove back to the Crash Pad, Bill spoke, “So tonight I’m thinkin’ pizza and Seven-Up, then we rent a new movie from Blockbuster. It’s called ‘The Stoned Age’. I think you’ll love it, I watched it the other week, and I thought you’d dig it.”
“Oh hell yeah,” Glenn replied. Any movie with his dad was a fun one.
“Wait- how old are ya now? Cuz like, there’s some stuff…eh, it’ll be fine. I’ll just tell ya to close your eyes.”
Glenn wasn’t a little kid anymore, he was a whole 10 years old. He figured it was about time his dad started letting him watch the good stuff.
They stopped to pick up dinner and the movie, then finally returned to Glenn’s favorite place on Earth. Glenn grinned as Bill unlocked the door and walked in, Glenn quickly trailing behind. Bill turned and closed the door, then walked to the kitchen.
Glenn looked around at the familiar living room. Two bean bag chairs rested in front of a large box television; it was the largest and best Bill could afford. Next to the television was the gameboy Glenn wanted to get his hands on as soon as possible. Glenn set down the liter of Seven-Up next to the bean bag chairs, waiting for his dad to return with the usual pair of paper plates and cups.
Something crashed in the kitchen, and Bill swore before water ran, then eventually, “Eh, it’s fine.” Bill reemerged with the plates and cups, and said, “Well? Go start up the VCR.”
Glenn nodded and quickly ran to the television stand, pushing the little button to turn the tv on. It buzzed to life, and the static from the television made Glenn’s hair stand up on end. He giggled as he turned the VCR on as well. Bill handed him the tape, and Glenn let the machine drag the tape inside. The whirring was telltale, and Glenn smashed the little triangle which lit up green at his touch.
He then turned back to his father who had poured them both sodas, and gave two slices of pizza to Glenn before loading his own plate with four. Glenn settled into the smaller beanbag, his legs used as a table for his plate as the movie began.
Bill laughed uproariously at the film, and Glenn chuckled along every time he did. Surprise nudity popped up and Bill cursed, “Damn, forgot about that. Close your eyes, kid.” Glenn covered his eyes but peeked through his fingers. Glenn’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open slightly, before he clamped his eyes shut.
Okay, maybe he didn’t need to see all the ‘good stuff’ yet.
Eventually Bill gave him the all clear, and Glenn could watch the film again. He only had to cover his eyes two more times. When the film ended, Bill sighed contentedly, “That’s what life is all about, kid. What’d ya think of it?”
Glenn was unsure how to respond, but he went with the usual, “It was great, so cool.”
“Atta boy.” Bill stood and stretched, “Hey, how ‘bout you shut that down and go grab that Gameboy? I gotta make a call.”
Glenn grinned, “Really? Okay!”
He tripped on the way to turn the tv off, refusing to let his dad know he now had a new scrape on his knee, and then snatched the Gameboy. He returned to his beanbag chair, and sat cross-legged as he powered on the gaming device. Glenn groaned as a droplet of water hit the screen, and glared up at the leaky ceiling.
Bill’s voice echoed in his head: ‘God damn pipes, worthless landlord.’
Bill had tried several times to get the ceiling repaired, but it never amounted to any real change. The same went for the creaky floorboards, rusted sinks, and whatever that smell was in Glenn’s room. But it was fine, Glenn only slept there, it wasn’t like he spent all day there when he had the rest of the Crash Pad. Besides, why wouldn’t he wanna hang out with his dad? His dad was the best. He always let Glenn do whatever he wanted.
Glenn didn’t know why his mom ever left.
He hated that he had to live with her instead of his dad. It would be so much better if he got to spend more than every two weekends with Bill. Stupid court system, it was rigged; Glenn was sure of it. If Glenn had his way he’d spend every day here with his dad. His mom wasn’t nearly as cool as Bill was. She was all rules, rules, rules.
Wear your coat. Don’t eat that, it’s bad for you. Turn down the music.
Bill never made him turn down the music.
In fact, Bill was usually blasting music at all hours of the day and night.
It was awesome waking up to whatever his dad was playing at 3am, sometimes Bill would encourage him to jump and dance around and shake out some more energy before returning to bed. Then the next morning they’d jam out while Bill poured them bowls of cereal and cups of orange juice. Sometimes Bill went out for a couple hours, but he always came back ready to chat and watch a movie or play his guitar for Glenn.
If Bill was in an extra happy mood he’d even let Glenn pluck the strings while Bill changed chords.
Glenn hoped he got to pluck the strings this weekend.
The creak of the floorboards signaled to Glenn that his dad was returning. He spun around to watch him, but Bill had a coat on, and keys in hand. Glenn stood, “Where are you going?”
“Just out. You know the rules?” Bill asked, shooting him with a finger gun.
Glenn nodded, “No stove. Stay out of your room. Don’t open for anyone.”
“Good. I’ll be back…soon.”
Then he was gone.
It was quiet.
The only sound around Glenn was the humming of the fridge and the dripping from the ceiling landing on the beanbag chair. His fingers tapped away on his leg as he bit his lip and looked around. His eyes landed on a stack of VHS tapes, but as Glenn sorted through them he didn’t see anything he wanted to watch. It was usually a couple hours when Bill went out, but none of these movies sounded interesting enough.
Didn’t his dad have any Disney movies? Where was Bambi? Dumbo? Not even Lady and the Tramp. Glenn groaned and then turned to look back at the Gameboy. It was beeping at him now, but he didn’t want to play with it anymore. He frowned, and shut it off, putting it back on the television stand.
Glenn walked around the Bachelor Pad before ending up in his room. Bill used it as a studio when Glenn wasn’t there, and a handful of guitars were sitting on their stands. A gorgeous green lacquered acoustic caught his attention. This was definitely not here last time.
Glenn looked over his shoulder then walked into his room, slowly approaching the guitar. He let out a shaky breath as his small hands gently lifted it up from its perch and he held it against his hip. It was way too big for him, but Glenn couldn’t wait to grow into it.
Maybe Glenn would ask for it for Christmas.
When his dad got him presents they were always the coolest. Christmas was his favorite holiday, for sure, because it meant that Bill was around. His mom usually didn’t protest when Bill showed up for a ‘family Christmas’. It usually ended with yelling and Bill driving home at 3am, but Glenn focused on the good of it. His dad had been home with him. Glenn could almost pretend they were a normal family.
Glenn played with the strings of the guitar, trying to move his fingers along the frets while strumming with the other hand. It was harder than it looked! No wonder Glenn was only allowed to strum while Bill handled the rest.
Glenn had strummed three times before the guitar slipped from his hands. Glenn gasped as he grabbed the neck of the guitar, trying to stop it from crashing to the ground. The guitar swung down and luckily didn’t break - but one of the strings snapped, and shot back onto Glenn’s fingers.
“OW!”
He gently set the guitar back onto its stand, and stared at it with wide eyes.
Oh shit.
Shitshitshit.
Blood began to seep out from the thin skin on top of his fingers, but Glenn couldn’t care less. His dad’s guitar was broken now. He would notice. Glenn had to fix it. Glenn looked around the room desperately, pulling open drawers and cabinets. He even checked under the cot he usually slept on. Nothing.
Shit.
This was bad.
Glenn’s hand began to sting, and he hissed as he looked down at it. His fingers were red and blotchy, and he quickly sucked on the blood emerging. Band-Aids. Then he would find a new string.
Glenn left his room and wandered down the hall to the bathroom. The cracked tiles were a deep green, but the dust covering the walls made it appear more grass-green. The shower curtain had a few new black spots, but Glenn ignored it as he opened the medicine cabinet, searching for a box of bandages. Glenn groaned in frustration, all that was in here were handfuls of empty pill bottles with the labels scratched off. There were a few strays, but Glenn didn’t need medicine, just something to stop the bleeding while he restrung the guitar.
His dad’s room.
But Bill always told him he wasn’t allowed in there. Especially not when he was gone.
But Bill would never know, and Glenn figured he’d be more upset about the guitar than looking for bandages in his room.
So he made sure the front door was locked before going to his father’s room.
The door creaked open as Glenn tip-toed in. He glanced around, but his eyes had to adjust because it was so dark in there. The curtains were drawn completely, and the room itself was painted black, with a matching pair of black satin bed sheets. A nightstand was on either side, but only one had anything on it. A couple discarded wrappers, a lamp, a clock, and more empty pill bottles. Glenn grunted as his shin slammed into a coffee table in front of the bed. There were cushions and blankets all around it. The table itself was incredibly dusty, with a couple old credit cards laying on it.
Maybe the nightstands had something?
He opened the one with everything on it, then immediately slammed it shut when he saw the naked women on the magazine covers. He closed his eyes and sighed, before turning to the only remaining space in the apartment. His dad’s bathroom.
He was definitely not allowed in there.
But…he looked down at the ruby dots on his hand, sucking the blood once again before stepping into the bathroom. The lights were a sickly white, reminding Glenn of the doctor’s office. The counters were full of yet more bottles, towels, empty toothpaste tubes, and more garbage. Glenn grimaced, his mom’s house wasn’t this messy. But he guessed his dad was just really busy. Being a famous guitar player was hard work! He didn’t have time to clean every day. Maybe Glenn would clean it for him and surprise him.
But he focused on digging around in the drawers around the sink, “C’mon, c’mon.” He muttered as his hands shoved aside boxes and tubes and bottles and even a few empty syringes. Glenn was surprised at this, he didn’t know his dad needed any medicine from a syringe. But he carefully moved them aside, in search of bandages.
Finally!
Glenn pulled out a box and took out several small bandages, placing them on his fingers and sighing in relief.
Now to find wherever Bill kept his spare guitar strings.
Glenn had strung guitars for Bill before, he taught Glenn when he was 7. He knew how to do it, but finding anything in the Crash Pad was like searching for a guitar pick on a mosh pit floor. His best bet would be back in his room. So Glenn left Bill's bedroom and walked back down the hall to his studio.
Glenn searched more thoroughly through cabinets and drawers, eventually finding a drawer filled with extra supplies to fix any number of instruments. He quickly found a new guitar string: it had been the A string, which would be less tricky to string, thank god.
Glenn picked up the guitar, sat on his cot, and began to unwind the old string from the guitar. It didn't take long to replace it, and Glenn put the guitar back in its place.
But it wouldn't be tuned…
Glenn shifted on his feet, his dad would definitely notice an out-of-tune guitar. But he didn't want to risk dropping it again. Eventually he left the instrument be, maybe Bill would think he had knocked it out of tune.
Glenn left the room and went back to the main sitting area. He climbed into Bill's beanbag chair after grabbing the Gameboy and stayed there for a while. He still didn’t really want to play, but there was nothing else to do when Bill was gone. Eventually Glenn peeled off the bandages, and was glad to see the bleeding had stopped. That was good. He balled up the bandages and shoved them into his jeans' pockets. He'd throw them out at home. Just so Bill didn’t know he’d been in his room. It would be hard enough to lie about the guitar string, lying about why his hand was bandaged would be the cherry on top of the struggle-cake.
Glenn spent the next couple hours switching between watching movies and the Gameboy. Eventually he heated up another two slices of pizza in the microwave. As the microwave hummed loudly, Glenn’s ears pricked as he heard keys in the locks of the front door. He grabbed his pizza and quickly went back to his own bean bag chair as Bill walked in.
Bill walked through the door, standing straight as an arrow with a big grin on his face. His eyes roamed around the room and landed on Glenn. They widened slightly but he smiled, “Hey home skillet, how’s it cookin’?”
Glenn smiled back, “Good! Was just hungry.”
Bill’s brow furrowed, “I thought I told you not to use the stove.”
Glenn glanced down at the pizza, “I- I didn’t. It’s pizza.”
Bill squinted, then chuckled, “Oh, yeah. Hey! Do you wanna go out and do something?” He wiped his nose on his sleeve, and sniffed deeply before hooking a thumb to the door. “We could go out on the town.”
“But it’s dark.”
“And? You’re with me, it’ll be fine.”
Glenn’s smile wavered, he was kind of tired, but if his dad wanted to hang out why would he say no? Bill was here, actively trying to spend time with him. Glenn nodded, “Yeah! Sounds awesome, lemme eat first?”
Bill shrugged, “Alright, I’ll be takin’ a piss.” Then he walked down the hall to his room.
Glenn quickly shoveled the pizza into his mouth, chewing as fast as he could. Bill reemerged from his room a few minutes later. He walked slowly, blinking rapidly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey, Glenn…” His voice was tight, like he was scared to ask, “you weren’t in my room…were you?”
Glenn felt his heart skip a beat, but he tried to keep his face neutral, “‘Course not. Why?”
Bill’s eyes bore into him, pupils wide, before wiping his nose again, “Nothin’...nothing.”
Glenn shot his dad a signature Close grin, “Hey, it’s cool. Are we going?” Maybe he could smooth things over if he changed the subject.
Bill blinked once, then twice, “Where?”
Glenn glanced to the front door, then back to his father, “You said- you said we were gonna go out on the town?”
“Oh…oh! Well there’s this 24-hour casino, they know me, we can go there. I can teach ya how to play poker.”
Poker?
Sounded fun!
Just like that Glenn was back onboard. He agreed and Bill ushered him out of the door, grabbing his car keys. Glenn hopped into the passenger seat of the camaro, feet up on the dashboard as his dad revved the engine and peeled out of the apartment’s parking lot.
The speedometer climbed as both Bill and Glenn whooped out the windows of the car.
60
70
80
90
“YEAH!” Bill whooped, “Yeah kid, this is what I’m TALKING about! Do you feel the rush?”
Glenn nodded, he definitely felt it. His heart was pounding as he cheered out the window, his dad maneuvering between lanes and around cars like they were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Why didn’t his mom do this more? This was so cool! It was reckless, fun - it made him feel alive. Excited.
And his dad seemed to be feeling it ten times as much.
He wanted to be just like Bill when he grew up. Facing life head-on with nothing more than a cool attitude and seeing the fun in everything.
Eventually Bill’s tired squealed as he turned into the parking lot of the casino. This was not what Glenn was expecting: bright lights, neon, Las Vegas. Instead, he was met with a corner-liquor store next to a dingy office space turned shady casino. The sign was half-falling off, the lights were dim, and when they walked in Bill handed the man at the front a handful of cash before glancing back over his shoulder at Glenn and whispering in hushed tones with the man.
Bill turned back after a moment and winked, nodding to Glenn to follow. Glenn quickly trailed after him, clinging to his dad’s jacket as they walked towards the back of the ‘casino’ where a plastic table was set up. Three other men were sitting there, smoking cigarettes or cigars. They glanced up when Bill walked over, dragging a chair over to join the game. Bill pulled Glenn close as he was dealt his cards.
“Now, the point of the game is to get the highest hand you can. The higher the numbers the better, you want pairs, but anything more than three of a kind is great. There’s flushes, straights, and keep an eye on the face cards. They get ya the win. If you have a good hand, you ‘call’, if you don’t you ‘fold’. If you have a great hand, you ‘raise’ the bet, the more you raise, the more nervous these fucks get, and you walk out with a couple hundred more than you came in with.”
Bill winked before flashing Glenn his hand. Three 8s, a 2 of hearts and an Ace of hearts. Glenn glanced at his dad, but Bill wasn’t looking at him, instead studying everyone else at the table. Three cards must have been good, right? Bill’s foot was tapping rapidly against the floor, and he sniffed loudly again before tossing in a poker chip to the middle of the pile.
Glenn glanced around to the other men, they were all sweaty and smelled like…Glenn wasn’t sure. But it wasn't good. Two of them had empty bottles upon empty bottles of beer on the floor beside their chairs. Glenn shifted his weight between his feet, glancing over his shoulder towards the front door.
The man at the front was glaring at him.
Glenn rolled his shoulders and took a step closer to his father. Bill spent the next two hours losing multiple hands of poker. Glenn yawned and rubbed his eyes. He definitely wanted to go to bed now. But Bill was still as lively as a downed power-line. He was tapping his feet again, practically shaking as he glanced rapidly between his hand and the other men. Glenn felt himself nodding off.
A hand slamming onto the table startled him awake.
Bill was standing now, his face red as he yelled at the man across from him. How long had Glenn been asleep? What time was it? Was he standing the whole time?
“YOU SON OF A BITCH I SAW YOU GRAB IT-”
The man from the front was trying to calm Bill down, but he wasn’t having it. Bill threw a punch, missed wildly, then cursed before storming out the front door. Glenn stared after his father wide-eyed. He looked at the man, who only pointed to the door with a sneer on his face, then Glenn ran after his father.
Bill was already in the driver’s seat, the key in the ignition when Glenn opened the passenger door and quickly climbed in, “Dad?”
“Leaving.” Bill muttered, turning the key and slamming the shift into reverse.
Glenn gasped as the car raced backwards, throwing him against the seat, then sped off. After a few minutes Bill wiped his nose on his sleeve, then shook his head, “We need to stop- I need to-” He pulled the car off the highway and took a few backstreets before it stopped in front of a blue ranch house with a busted front gate that hung too far to the left. Two rusted clunker cars sat in the front lawn, while a newer car sat in the driveway.
Glenn squinted, “Where-?”
“No one. Don’t worry about it.” Bill opened the door, then stopped to glance back over his shoulder at Glenn. “You won’t tell your mom, right?”
Glenn blinked.
What?
“Right?” Bill repeated, hand resting on Glenn’s shoulder.
“No! I’m no snitch,” Glenn spat. Why would his dad even ask him that?
Bill’s eyes narrowed; he seemed to be putting some invisible puzzle together before he slowly got out of the car. He jogged up to the house and started pounding on the door, shouting for whoever was inside to answer.
“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! Come on, man! I have more!”
Glenn groaned and shrunk into his seat covering his face in his hands, hoping no neighbors were watching. This wasn’t cool.
Eventually a light flicked on and the door opened. Bill pushed his way into the house, the door closing behind him. Glenn sighed in relief, at least the yelling was over. He never liked when people raised their voices.
5 minutes passed, then 10, then 30. Glenn bit his lip, he wanted to wait for his dad to finish whatever he was doing but…
The clock had read 1:15am before he went knocking on the door. Glenn wanted to go back to the Crash Pad to sleep. He glanced both ways down the dark street, then got out of the car.
The sidewalk was cracked and uneven, grass sprouting through cracks in the cement. Broken chairs, empty bottles and other trash was littered all over the front yard. A knocked over birdbath sat split in half. Glenn climbed the steps up to the house’s porch, but hesitated as his hand hovered in front of the door. He took a deep breath and decided to knock.
There was muffled talking behind the door, before it opened and a tall man with ruffled blonde hair looked down at him. The man was only in boxers and a tank top, and as soon as he saw Glenn his eyes widened and filled with rage.
“You brought your fuckin’ KID HERE?” The man screamed over his shoulder turning back into the house.
“What?” Bill’s voice carried from somewhere inside, then Bill finally appeared at the door. He blinked, while his foot tapped rapidly on the ground, then he groaned. “Oh, fuck. Fuck! No, look, Matt-”
“Get the fuck out Bill!! You better hope I don’t get no cops snoopin’ around here, or it’s your head-”
“Cool it.” Bill hissed, holding up a single hand, and silencing ‘Matt’. “They won’t! My kid ain’t no snitch! Right, Glenn?”
Glenn glanced between the man and his father, his lip quivering, but he nodded, “Yeah, I’m no snitch. It’s cool.”
He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to go to bed.
His dad’s friends seemed…well it was clear Bill was the coolest one in any of these groups. They all seemed angry. Bill was almost never angry. He was chill. He was fun.
Matt sneered, “Well find a new guy, Bill. I’m fuckin’ done. You fucked me over before and now this? You’re out on your ass.”
Bill shook his head violently, “No! Nonono, Matt. Matt we can talk about this. Please, you’re the only-” He glanced uneasily at Glenn, then leaned in to whisper to Matt.
Matt shook his head, “Well tough fuckin’ luck. Find another sucker.” He shoved Bill out of the house, sending him tripping down the three steps of the porch. Glenn stumbled back as he tried to catch his falling father. Glenn got knocked to the ground as Bill almost stepped on him. Bill cursed, then yanked Glenn up as he threw a middle finger back at Matt.
“Let’s go.” Bill grumbled, leading Glenn back to the car by the shoulder.
“Are we going back to the Crash Pad now?” Glenn asked, his voice cracking and just above a whisper.
Bill’s grip on him tightened, and with a strained voice he replied, “Yeah.”
Good.
Glenn loved his dad, he loved spending time with him, but he just wanted to go back and sleep.
The ride home was silent.
No music. No whooping and cheering. Only Bill’s irregular breathing, and Glenn swore his own heartbeat was loud enough for Bill to hear.
He glanced sidelong at his father who was sweating now, his own t-shirt stained yellow from it. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Glenn didn’t want to ask what was wrong and make the energy even worse. He knew it was probably his fault for knocking on the door. He should have just let Bill do his thing, come back when he was ready. So he stayed silent until they pulled back into the apartment lot.
As they entered the apartment, Glenn looked longingly towards his bedroom. Bill walked over to a record player and put on a Led Zeppelin album. ‘Immigrant Song’ immediately started playing, and Glenn groaned.
He loved this song.
So he waited the 2 minutes and 27 seconds, screaming and singing along with Bill in - almost - perfect harmony. Bill was a little flat, but he was a guitarist almost exclusively, Glenn was the whole package. The performer. Bill always told him he’d “better be famous” one day.
After a while Glenn’s eyes danced over to the kitchen clock: 2:38 am.
Bill stopped dancing, then wiped his nose. He looked around slowly, considering everything around him. Finally he looked at Glenn, hands on his hips, “Are you sure you didn’t go into my room?”
Glenn bit his cheek, “I didn’t.”
Bill stepped closer, then leaned down to look him directly in the eyes. Bill looked from one to the other, and Glenn recoiled a bit as the same sickly smell the other men at the poker game smelled like wafted faintly off his father. It was probably just residual, but it was not how his dad usually smelled. Glenn always had a sensitive nose, and the recoil must have ticked something in Bill’s brain, because he frowned.
“Go to bed.”
“But-”
“It’s late. Go to bed.”
Glenn frowned, but turned silently and went to his room. He knew it was serious if Bill was laying down a command. He never did that. Glenn closed the door behind him, kicking off his sneakers as he crawled onto his cot. He sighed as he looked over at the acoustic from earlier, one new string amongst five old, worn, and loved ones.
Glenn loved his dad.
Bill was the best.
He wanted to be exactly like him when he grew up.
But as the kitchen clock down the hall ticked to 3am, Glenn could hear his dad turn the volume up on a Guns n’ Roses album.
He just wanted to sleep.