And I mean always.
At first I think he really thought I needed him to follow me on my dates, but now I think he just enjoys it. Before Holly came along, he would come in my room as I was getting ready for a date, and he would be smiling in this really unnatural way—it’s really creepy—and he would just say, “Hey there, are we ready for our date?”
The first time it happened, I thought he was joking. The second time it happened, I thought he would calm down eventually. Now I know he’s just a little bit demented. It’s all those special brownies he likes to eat.
“Is there any way that maybe you could distract Dad? Enlist some of your super special awesome girlfriend powers?”
“Girl, I don’t have enough special powers to convince your dad not to follow you tonight. Sorry. You’re going out with Jeremy Whelan. Of course your dad’s going to tail you.”
Well shit. If Dad’s being totally in love with Holly and Holly’s living here now can’t get him off my back even a little bit, then what good is this whole them falling in love thing anyway?
“Then at least keep him at a reasonable distance.”
“I will see what I can do.”
Sure enough, Dad walks into the room. His dark brown hair is greased back, and it looks almost black from where I stand. His dark eyes are gleaming, and he’s smiling that same maniacal smile I know so well. He’s wearing dark jeans, a long-sleeved flannel shirt, and his Forsaken cut. Because even when I go on dates with regular boys, Dad makes sure to follow us and let everyone know whose daughter I am.
“Are we ready for our date?” he asks. He actually is looking at me like he thinks I’m going to respond positively. I won’t do it to his face, but the moment he turns his back I am flipping him off. Asshole. I swear he deserves something bad to happen to him, like maybe he’ll walk into a wall. Nothing truly horrible because, despite how I feel in this moment, I still love my father. But, man, do I want him to suffer just a little bit.
“You’re not funny. Nobody else is smiling. And there is a part of me that thinks you hate me,” I say.
One would think that if your child tells you they’re convinced, even a little bit, that you hate them that you would stop smiling. One would think it’s the courteous thing to do. One would think they were talking to somebody other than my father. He stands there full of smiles and laughs.
I turn away from my reflection in the mirror and decide not to worry about the way I look anymore. I’m just wearing a plain pair of jeans, knee-high flat-footed boots, and a pink long-sleeved top. Jeremy asked for pink, so I’m giving him pink. And he’s so right. I do look hot in pink. The long-sleeved top is courtesy of Dad’s orders. I believe the exact words used were “if you’re not actually charging for it, then don’t act like you are.” I came close to telling him that he should take his own advice. Because before Holly, he and I both know he was no saint. The chicks he used to “spend time with” at the clubhouse sure dress and act like they charge for it. Thank God they don’t, or I wouldn’t have a college fund with how much Dad used to like their company.
“You know,” I say to Holly, “I wouldn’t blame you for ditching this one and finding somebody less crazy.” As the words leave my mouth, I realize that’s the last thing I want. I couldn’t handle it if she left. I’d track her down and refuse to leave her side. I can’t go back to the way it was before. She’s a part of us now, and I’ll do anything to keep her.
Even if that means figuring out what happened to her and Mindy on my own.
A guilty smile spreads across her face as she tosses her head back in laughter. It’s really awesome seeing her smile and laugh like this. But what’s even better is that she’s laughing at Dad’s expense. He deserves it.
Dad rolls his eyes. He looks ridiculous and like a total drama queen. If we didn’t look so much alike, I could totally ignore the fact that perhaps I probably look like a fool when I do it. But I’m a girl, and it doesn’t look as stupid on me as it does a grouchy biker. At least I hope.
“Well, out with it. I know you want to say something. First up, it’s always the speech. The speech about respecting myself and how I shouldn’t let boys take advantage of me. But I know you’re going to have an even better speech prepared because I’m going out with a prospect, so let’s not pussyfoot around it. Just say what you got to say so I can go, and just follow me like you always do, you creeper.”
Holly purses her lips, her face turns red, and she looks away. Her shoulders shake, giving away her silent laughter.
“I said you could go out with the kid. I’m not saying you can’t, but I want you to understand that he’s not just some mouthy eighteen-year-old. He’s a prospect. You should know what that means.”
“Dad, I do know what that means.”