Papa slewed through the parking lot of Club Stallion, barely reducing speed, racing around the club itself and down a lane of small wooden cottages...three of which had porch lights lit. He proceeded down the lane and braked hard to stop in front of the last one. "Papa, what are you doing?"

My father ignored me as he climbed out of the SUV, but then he was opening my door and he reached roughly across me, his arm mashing into my chest as he undid my seat belt and then he grabbed me by the arm, his fingers painfully strong and dragged me out of my seat. "Papa!" I cried...