My upper lip was sweating as I licked it, tasting the salty droplets. I couldn't take my eyes off my father's face. The mic was crackling as he removed it with frustration. He was flustered and seemed off kilter, but he wasn't too rattled to act.
Dad wasn't an i***t; he understood that the USB had been switched so that's the first place he hurried to. As he walked closer, my adrenaline kicked in. I couldn't allow him to interfere nor could I let him find out it was me.
Self-preservation kicked in as I grabbed a food cart, pretending to be a server, and blocked his way. As I shoved it forward, it rammed into him. The bottles and metal covered trays clinked together.
My dad cursed when it slammed into his hip looking for someone to blame but I ducked down. Grabbing a nearby napkin, he beg
