Page 25 of The Enforcer

Even breathing was hard.

I placed my hands on my thighs and hoped this wouldn't last long.

"You left your phone -"

"I know."

He shot me an annoyed look. I bit my bottom lip. I knew my dad well enough to know that the best thing I could do was let him say what he needed to say. I shouldn't have cut him off.

"Kenna." He was trying to be patient. I could tell. It made me feel worse. I hated when he was understanding, when he was trying to be, at least. I wished he was angry, I wanted him to throw things, to yell at me, to call me dirty and disgusting. I didn't want him to be anything but that. "I saw what was on your phone."

"Why were you on my phone?" I asked. I already had an attitude, despite the fact that he was trying to be reasonable. I was defensive, my arms were crossed tightly over my chest as though I was trying to protect myself, and my lips were pulled into a tight line. He might not be looking for a fight, but I was certainly preparing for one.

"I hadn't meant to be on your phone," he said, suddenly getting defensive. "Your phone was there and I saw that you had gotten a text from a number that wasn't saved in your phone. It is a number I recognize because Joaquin has had that number for at least ten years."

"And?" I asked. "So what if Joaquin is texting me? You don't know what we're talking about. Your birthday is in a couple of months. We could be planning your birthday party."

"Joaquin doesn't text stuff like Miss you and I'll be home soon to women he's fu- slept with," my dad said. I scoffed at the fact that he felt he had to censor himself. I was eighteen, and if he had read the text messages we sent each other after the phone sex, I was pretty sure he was aware that we had fucked as well. "So, when I saw those text messages sitting on the lock screen of your phone, I felt I had to investigate what he could be talking about. I needed context."

"So why not just ask?" I pointed out. I glared at him. "You don't trust me."

"How do you expect me to trust you after the texts I see you exchange with my best friend," he all but shouted. "You're my baby girl -"

"I am eighteen, Dad!" I said. "I haven't been a kid in a long time. If I had been exchanging these texts with Walter, would you feel this angry?"

"Probably," he said, but his voice caught, indicating that he wasn't sure.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe you'd be upset to be confronted with the fact that I was sexting anyone," I allowed, "but we both know you wouldn't be as upset if this was Walter."

"Joaquin is more than half your age, Kenna," he said through gritted teeth. "He took advantage of you. I'm allowed to be furious."

"Okay," I said. "Be mad. But I'm going to correct you - he didn't take advantage of me. I took advantage of him."

Now it was his turn to scoff.

My eyes narrowed. "You know," I said. "Why is it so hard to believe that I could get his attention? Do you think I'm not pretty enough?"

"What?" My dad furrowed his brow and shot me a look. "Is that really what you want to go with, Ken? That you aren't pretty enough? You must be out of your mind. Do you know it's hard for me not to say something when we walk down the fucking street and guys my age are staring at you like you're a runway model they can imagine doing things with - honestly, I'd rather not get into it because it pisses me the fuck off. But I know what guys see when they look at you. I just didn't expect Joaquin to see you that way."

I knew my dad was pissed. I could tell by the way he was gesturing wildly with his hands. I could tell by the way he hit the surface of the table with his clenched fist, the way his gaze avoided mine, the way his lips curved into a tight line.

"I don't know what to tell you," I finally said, spreading my fingers on the marble. The cool, smooth surface did little to soothe my growing anger with my father, with the situation we both found ourselves in.

"Tell me you didn't fuck him," he said, picking his head up and looking at me. "Tell me you guys flirted and sent each other racy pictures of yourselves, but tell me you haven't actually fucked."

"What we've done together is none of your business," I said. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Tell me."

"No."

"It is my business," he said through gritted teeth. "It is my business because you are my daughter."

"I didn't hear you asking Walter if we fucked," I retorted. "I was still your daughter when I was with him."

"Walter isn't taking advantage of you -"

"Neither is Joaquin," I said. "You think he initiated any of this? He didn't. It was all me."

"Tell me -"

"It doesn't matter what I tell you, Dad," I said, pushing myself to a standing position. "It doesn't matter because at the end of the day, you're going to believe whatever you want to believe and there's nothing I can do about it. If it makes you feel better, I'll tell you whatever you want to hear. But don't ask me about who I'm fucking. I'm not going to say anything. It's not your business. Whether you like it or not, I'm an adult and I do what I want."

I grabbed my phone and took off before he could stop me. I headed out the door and to my car and drove. Somehow, I ended up in front of Joaquin's place. I knew he wasn't home, but it made me feel better being there nonetheless.

I pulled out my phone and sent him a quick, warning text:

He knows.

---