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WARNING: This book is not transferable. It isfor your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is aninfringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted tothe fullest extent of the law.


This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCESONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic languagewhich may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your fileswhere they cannot be accessed by minors.


All sexually active characters in this work are18 years of age or older.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/orare used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical eventsor existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.


CoverDesign: Selena Kitt

Father’s Keeper © January 2011 Parker Ford


All rights reserved










By Parker Ford



Chapter 1

“So why are we coming here again?”

I glanced at Carl and grinned. “Well,for one thing it’s a cheap place to stay. Cheap as in free,” I said, making aleft on Wicked Way. Yes, that was the street name and a few blocks down wasFlying Monkey Road. I shit you not. My folks lived in a section of town wherethe streets are named for The Wizard of Oz.

When I say folks, I guess now I justmean Gil. And Gil isn’t even my dad. He’s my stepfather.

“Free is good,” Carl said. Carl worksin honky-tonk bars playing guitar when he can. Works behind the bar when he hasto and in the kitchen washing dishes only when he’s desperate.

“I thought you’d see it that way.”

“But why are we visiting Gil whenyou’re mom’s not even here, Jenny girl?” he asked.

I hate being called Jenny girl. Truthbe told, I prefer just Jen. Jennifer if you have to be formal. I shrugged,taking the long, steep hill that would lead to my house. All of Pleasant Parkswas visible from up here and I put my foot on the brake to still ourprogress--just to look. Seeing my hometown did odd things to me. Part of mefelt comforted to be home, part of me felt claustrophobic. Like I wanted tosmoke a pack of cigarettes, drink a bottle of cheap wine and hit the road in abeat up old muscle car. And run like hell.

Nostalgia can be sickly sweet.Delicious in one instant, cloying in the next.

I shrugged, lifted my foot off thebrake and let us drift down hill, let gravity and small town roots do theirwork. “I want to check on him. Gil and I didn’t get a great start,” I said,stopping at the corner before hitting the gas and dragging us closer to myhouse. “But he was a good dad to me. And now Marian’s up and left him. And me,if you must know. She won’t call me back or contact me or any of it. My motherhas started a new life. It does not include Gil and it does not include me,” Isaid.

“Think he’ll care?”

“Yes and no,” I said. “I think I’ll bea suck ass reminder of her, but that’s the way the gene pool goes. But I thinkhe won’t much mind the company and he is a family man--a good man. This isalways to be my home. Told me so when I left.”

“Ah, but what about me?” Carl laughed,putting his big, nicked up hand on my thigh and pushing it high up. I wanted topress myself down so he could reach me, I wanted to pull myself back so hecouldn’t. I wasn’t quite sure where I stood on Carl right about now. Only timewould tell, I figured.

It had been fun and games and sex anddrinking and parties for months. But now I wanted to start a new lifesomewhere, and Pleasant Parks was on the way to somewhere. So I was startinghere. Carl was just along for the ride, and something told me that was how he’dlive the rest of his life. Along for the ride. I wasn’t sure if I was okay withthat or not.

“You’re with me. That’s all he needsto know. I’m a big girl.”

“I wouldn’t say big. I’d say curvy,“he said and winked at me. That hand crept higher, his fingertip brushing undermy short skirt, under the elastic band of my panties. I let him. When the tipof his pinky finger tickled at my clit, I held my breath. “What’s he do,anyway?”

“Stained glass,” I said. “Custompieces. He’s been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Make a lot on that?”

I shrugged. “You can. He has. Churchwindows and local dedications for big buildings. Funeral memorials and folks’houses. He’s done okay.” I drifted my crappy Chevy ‘79 Chevy Malibu with it’ssagging headliner into Gil’s driveway and sucked in a deep breath. Carl pressedmy clit again so that my pussy worked up around nothing and I made a sound inmy throat. Then he chuckled softly and pulled his hand back. “Here we are,” Isaid.

“Here we are,” Carl echoed.

For whatever reason, my stomach rolledover nervously. My skin tingled and my heart felt a few sizes larger in mychest. Why was I so fucking nervous? Maybe because once I went in that house Iwas now in my home. A home without my mother. She had left. Left Gil and leftme. But at twenty-eight, should I care? Probably not, but I did.

“Is that him?” Carl asked.

I brought myself back from spacing outand looked at the small front porch. Gil caught my eye, gave me a half grin. Hecrushed out his cigarette in a coffee can I knew would be full of kitty litter,though my parents didn’t have a cat, and took the steps slowly.

“That’s him,” I said. “My father. Sortof.” But for all intents and purposes, Gil was the only dad I‘d ever known.There when my real dad wasn’t. In fact, Marian had never truly copped to who myreal dad was, just that he’d left us. But it was Gil who had taught me toparallel park and to change a tire (not that I could still do that). It was Gilwho picked me up when Gary Grace

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