“Nothing,” Dad snorted. “I just love the way you compliment me, that’s all.”
I grinned. “Well, it’s true. It’s barely there,” I laughed. “Go date Ms. Manning and start running with her, and it’ll be gone in a week. Jeez, it’s so unfair. Men can lose weight like that!” I said, snapping my fingers.
“Oh, no they can’t,” Dad argued.
“Well, whatever. Will you just promise me that you’ll keep an open mind and start looking?” I should have left it right there, but I couldn’t. “Mom’s gone.”
“Hmm,” Dad replied. He rubbed his forehead and looked at me. “Kind of like how Beth’s gone.”
I tensed. “What are you saying?”
“Honey, you don’t do anything but go to school and work and hang out with Gretchen. I’m not blind.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m going to a party tonight.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh really? Where is it and who’s throwing it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Some rich guy whose parents are gone for the weekend.” I winked at him.
“Very funny, Brooke,” Dad replied. “Where is it and who’s throwing it?”
I sighed. “Gretchen’s friend, Olivia. It’s totally cool. I mean, I’m sure some people will bring alcohol, but Dad. Come on. You know me.”
Actually, Dad didn’t know me at all, and I thought he’d say it out loud. But that would have embarrassed the both of us, so he opted for something else.
“And what if the party gets busted by the cops and you’re arrested for being there with alcohol?”
“They wouldn’t arrest me, Dad. They’d just call you.”
“Oh really? You know this from past experience? And anyway, you’re eighteen. Legally an adult. They wouldn’t call me to pick you up.”
I huffed. “Dad.”
“Brooke.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
“I’m not letting Gretchen go to this party by herself,” I said.
“Any particular reason why?”
“Um, yeah. Have you met Gretchen? She’s ridiculous,” I explained.
Dad laughed. “Fine, but she’s not drinking either.”
“Dad, she doesn’t touch the stuff. Empty calories,” I said, finishing off my calzone. I eyed Dad’s second slice of pizza.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said, picking up the slice and taking a huge chunk out of it.
I considered him while he ate. “You think we should have done this a few years ago?”
“Done what?” he asked with his mouth full.
“Lived together.”
Dad swallowed. It sounded like it hurt on the way down. “You weren’t happy with your mom?”
“No, I’m not saying that. It’s just, why is it usually the mom who gets the kids?”
Dad stared at me.
“I mean, why didn’t I have a choice?”
“Did you want to live with me?” he asked tentatively.
“I don’t know. It could have been fun,” I said.
Dad stared at his plate. I felt an overwhelming need to hug him, but thought it was the wrong time.
“Well, I guess we’ve gotta make up for lost time,” I said.
Dad looked at me and grinned. “Don’t you dare come home drunk, young lady.”
“Never.”
***
“I’m totally excited!” Gretchen squealed as we walked, arms linked, up the sidewalk to Tanner’s house.
Yes, I felt guilty for lying to my dad. It wasn’t Olivia’s house. There’s no Olivia anyway. But I thought it would sound better if the party were being thrown by a girl and not an immature boy. Tanner was just that. An annoying, loud, overbearing football player from my old high school who insisted on being popular whether people wanted him to or not. I think he was only accepted into the club because he had parents who traveled a lot, thus opening his house to the most over-the-top, alcohol-infused, sex-crazed parties in the city. It amazed me that not one of them had ever been busted by the cops.
“What’s there to be excited about?” I asked. “These parties are obnoxious.”
“Whatever, Brooke. You loved them last year.”
“Yeah, that was last year,” I said. “God, I don’t want to run into anyone I know.”
We pushed through the front door and nearly toppled onto Stephanie.
“Oh my God!” she screamed, throwing her arms around my neck and choking me.
“Steph.” I know I sounded less than enthusiastic, but I just couldn’t pretend anymore.
“I was so hoping you’d come tonight!” she replied, pulling away and looking me up and down. “You look so pretty!”
I did look pretty. I wore dark blue skinny jeans with a gray sequins top and alligator pumps. My very first pair of closed-toe heels. I bought them immediately after Beth’s funeral, and I made sure there was nothing sad about them. Not a hint of black. They were purple instead. I wore my hair in a messy chignon at the nape of my neck to show off my mother’s wedding earrings—the diamond studs. I felt confident and sexy.
“Thanks. I love your dress,” I replied. “It’s really cute.”