Page 415 of Hell Hath No Fury
Then one summer after I had just finished high school, they ordered me to volunteer at the Baptist church where Angela’s dad is a pastor or risk disinheritance.
And well…that was when my eyes were finally opened to the real world.
It was a fucking bitter pill to swallow, I can tell you that much. I had all the privilege and none of the responsibility for far too long. I cringe thinking of the man I would have become if my parents hadn’t done everything in their power to set me straight. I’d be like every other douche in Northside. I would rather put a bullet in my head before I’d ever let that shit happen.
I glance over at my dad, who is still looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell Rick’s joke.
Now way would they set me up with one of the Richfield sisters.
There’s just no way.
“Well? Don’t keep me hanging, son,” my father taunts with a genuine smile. “What’s this big joke?”
“Should you tell him, or should I?” Rick whispers beside me, amused.
Fucker.
“It’s nothing, Dad. Just some lame-ass prank Richard was trying to pull on me. He said you set us up with the Richfield sisters and that we’re taking them to the gala. Can you believe that?” I force a chuckle.
When both my parents throw each other a guilty glance and Vera preens in delight, my heart falls to the pit of my stomach.
“Dad, please tell me this is a sick joke?” I plead.
“Owen.” He starts placing his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t see the harm in taking Colleen and Sierra to this dance. Do you?”
“The fuck, Dad?!” I shout in utter indignation.
“Owen, language,” my mom mutters through her smile, staring at a displeased Vera Price.
Fuck the old broad.
I’m dying here.
“Told you,” Rick mutters under his breath, looking less tense now that he has someone to share in his misery.
“How about we have a quick chat in my study? Louise, see if Vera and Richard would like some refreshments before we leave to pick up the girls?”
My mom throws me an ‘I’m sorry’ look as she ushers our guests into the next room while my dad basically drags me into his study. I wait for him to close the door behind him before I say my piece.
“I’m not going. Fuck that, Dad. You can’t make me go,” I rush out to state my case.
“You’re right. You’re a grown man. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” he starts.
“Damn straight,” I mumble like a petulant child.
“However,” he continues on, raising a finger in the air, “having said that, I don’t see why a son can’t do his old man a solid by taking two lovely young ladies to a party.”
“Jesus, Dad. Shoot me already. It will be less painful than taking those two anywhere.”
“Why?” He arches a brow, looking perplexed. “What’s wrong with them?”
“You want a list?”
“If you have it, then yes. I’d be curious to learn as to why you are so opposed to them.”
“Number one,” I retort, while raising my finger, “they’re Richfields. They fucking think they own this town and everyone in it. It’s infuriating. Number two,” I add, lifting another digit, “their mother, Josephine, is even worse than Vera out there, and that’s fucking saying something. Number three,” I go on, my fury only building inside me, “Sierra is sixteen years old and already everyone in town thinks she’s a vapid spoiled brat, and number four—and this one is a biggie, Dad—Colleen is so fucking full of herself, so goddamn high and mighty, one second in her presence feels like a fucking eternity. I love you, Dad, but don’t ask me to do this. Anything but this.”
My father takes all my reasons to heart, fondling his salt-and-pepper beard with his hand.
