Page 4 of Daddy's Best Friend

After managing to let my eyes adjust to the light, I saw the culprit. An empty fifth of whiskey staring at me from my nightstand, the red plastic cup lying on its side next to the bottle. For a Sunday morning, it wasn’t entirely abnormal for me towake up a bit hungover, but given the amount I had drunk last night, and the fact that I’d had yet another go-round with my father only Friday night, this one was worse than normal.

Weekends were rough. At least during the week, I had my classes to keep me busy, and I even took on an extra statistics class this quarter just to occupy more time. I had protested against Dad’s money, but he doled it out anyway, paying for my dorm for the first quarter and loading my student commissary account with more than enough to sustain a single college girl. Too bad the commissary didn’t sell whiskey, because the hair of the dog sounded pretty good to me right about now.

As if my morning couldn’t get any worse, a deafening poundingoutsidemy head started in. Someone banging at the door demanded my attention. If it was Wendy, she could kiss my ass. She had a key—or she should have, unless she locked herself out. And if it was anyone else, they could kiss my ass too. I didn’t have to answer to them. There was no law stating I’d go to jail for ignoring a knocking guest.

I peeled myself off the mattress, seeing my blanket flung on the floor. I sat up too quickly and my head spun. I needed water, but first clothing. Sorting through the tangled mess of blanket, dirty clothes, and laundry I’d laid on the foot of my bed earlier that week—yeah, I was a slob—I found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The knocking at the door stopped briefly, but what followed it chilled me to the bone.

“Ella, it’s your father. I know you’re here; I can see it on GPS. Open the door.”

Panic set in as I stared at the pile of sex toys, and I frantically snatched up the blanket and shook it out. I tossed it to the bed, leaving the clothing strewn about and rushed around the smallstudio gathering up the evidence. I collected two red plastic cups, a few beer cans, several empty wine cooler bottles, the empty fifth, and a bowl my friend Tyler had left when we smoked last weekend.

My arms were full of shit, and I had nowhere to dump it because we were out of trash bags, so I used my toe—hopping on one foot—to pry open the cupboard under the sink and very loudly dumped my stash. One glance in the mirror over the dresser revealed badly disheveled hair and raccoon eyes, probably from crying over God knows what. I licked my finger and rubbed at the black smudges, removing as much as I could without makeup remover. One more cursory glance around the room revealed a bra dangling from the ceiling fan, which I knew I couldn’t reach, so it would have to stay.

I staggered to the door, putting on my best fake yawn as I opened it, but I left the chain in place to keep him from barging in. I peered at him through the 3-inch opening, and he scowled at me.

“Morning, Dad. I just woke up.” It wasn’t a lie. I had just woken up. He didn’t need to know why it was nearly one p.m. on Sunday before I woke up. “What’s up?”

“Young lady, open this door.” He pressed on it and looked up at the chain, glaring at me. “Do you have a boy in there?”

Fuck did I wish I had a boy in here—well, not a boy, a man. But still, having a real sex partner instead of rubbing off all the time would be phenomenal. He didn’t need to know the gory details of my masturbation life.

“No, Dad. No boys. Just me. I have to pee. Will this take long?” Again, not a lie. I had to pee so bad I thought it would run down my leg any second. Bladder spasms were the worst.

“Ella, open the door.”

“Never bite the hand that feeds you,” Mom would chide me every time I was disrespectful or rebelled in even the slightest fashion. I could hear her voice like fingernails on a chalkboard.

I closed the door and unchained it, then turned the knob so it popped open, but I didn’t go as far as to open the door for him. He pushed it open and strolled in, shutting the door behind himself. I slunk back into the room and removed the newspaper and stack of mail off one of the chairs near the dining table. When I pulled it out and gestured for him to sit, he waved me off.

“This place is a pigsty. How on earth do you live like this?” His judgmental eyes roamed around the room, locking on the dangling bra like a homing device. I rubbed my forehead, not at all ashamed of the way I lived. It was better than some billion-dollar mansion you had to pay an entire fleet of servants to keep clean. Not to mention the shit that went along with it, boats, jet skis, and expensive appliances.

No, I’d choose my slovenly mess over that any day. At least what I had was mine and I earned it myself. Well—sort of.

“Don’t forget that I paid for all of this.” His finger drew a circle in the air gesturing to the room. “And you should take better care of things.”

“This—” I mimicked his gesture “—belongs to the University of Miami, and if you don’t want to pay for it, I’ll live in a cardboard box, and still get better grades than Alex.”

Dad scowled again. His eyes darted to the table, loaded down with old mail, an empty cereal box, a few dirty dishes, various pens and pencils, and a half-eaten slice of pizza randomly lyingin the mix. He shook his head and turned around, seeing the laundry on the ground, he bent and started picking it up.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning up. I can’t even take you seriously with this mess around. I need to discuss something really important with you and I think maybe I’ve stuck my neck out for you one time too many.” His arm was loaded with the mixture of clean and dirty clothes before I could protest, and I had to wrestle it away from him. When he reached for the blanket—I assumed to make the bed—I dived onto it, dropping the laundry over top of the sex toys before he saw them.

“Dad, seriously. Just say what you need to say and get out.” My heart raced at the close call. How embarrassing would that have been—my dad finding my dildo just lying around my room.

He stopped and stared down at me, his fingers wiggling nervously like he was itching to clean my room. “Alan Walters has a position open at his company and he’d like to start you tomorrow. You’ll be paid for your time, but it will be an internship to count toward credit for your degree. I’ve worked it all out already, so all you have to do is wear something nice and show up ready to learn.”

I would have liked to growl out my frustration with him and complain, but if I did that, he would lecture me for an hour. So, I bit back my irritation with him and nodded, forcing a smile.

“Thanks, Daddy.” I situated the laundry in such a way that none of my unmentionables would show and rose off the bed. “I need to clean up and get groceries now. You just send me all the details, okay?” Ushering him toward the door, I noticed a condom wrapper peeking out from beneath one of thenewspapers. I could have killed Wendy for leaving her shit laying around. I shoved that fucker back under the paper before he saw it.

“Ella, this is an incredible opportunity. You can’t screw this up.” I opened the door, nudging him out and he scowled. “Tell me you’re not going to screw this up.”

“I won’t screw it up.” Another fake smile, another silent prayer he just left me alone.

“Alan will be keeping an eye on you, you know.”

“Mmhmm, thanks, Dad.” I closed the door, peeking through the crack as I closed it, and when he didn’t protest, I breathed a sigh of relief and locked it up.

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