“What makes you so sure that I’m even capable of something like that?” I asked, voice trembling and hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“What makes you sure that you’re not?” he shot back, one thick brow also raising.
“I’m only twenty-one. There isn’t much that I’ve done, but there is plenty that I want to do. I haven’t lived or seen the world, but you think I can turn a no-name company into what exactly?”
“You tell me.” He shrugged, and that shit was infuriating. “I know that you’re smart. I’ve seen what you can do. Thanks to my portfolio. I have every reason to believe that you can do anything that you set your mind to. So that’s the goal here. Success. Whatever support you need will be provided. All you have to do is remember who put you in this position.”
“And that would be you, right?” I spun around, facing him when he took a step backward.
“You might not like how we got here, but… I’m your ally. Keep a couple of pairs of the jeans, but we need to find some more business attire. We will get this dress for the event, along with a few similar that you will need for certain functions.”
Suddenly, I was feeling like Julia Roberts inPretty Woman. But he was no Richard Gere with his brash demeanor. I wanted to know more about the man in front of me, but I got the feeling that he would only reveal parts of him that he deemed worthy. Frequency was heavily guarded.
The rest of the day, we bounced around from shop to shop until my feet ached. Going for lunch at a small café, we were seated and surrounded by our shopping bags. After soup and sandwiches, Frequency seemed even more preoccupied by whatever was blowing up his phone. He finished his soup and slowly brought himself to his feet. I watched him nod across the room to the security detail that had been trailing us. The broad-shouldered, big bear of a man came hurtling toward us.
“D, keep an eye on them. I set up an appointment at the nail spa just across the way here. I’ve already paid and told them to give them whatever they want. Donottake your eyes off of them.” His stern tone got the guard to nod in concurrence.
Ivy peeked up interestedly at her father while she continued to eat her broccoli and cheese soup. “Where are you going, Daddy?” Ivy questioned, and he paused.
His gaze drifted back and forth between us. “I need to take care of some business. Just stay with Harbor and enjoy getting pampered. Harbor, something classy. No bright colors. That shit with the white tips?—”
“A French manicure,” Ivy and I said in unison.
He seemed to be tripped out by our response as he tucked his phone into his jacket pocket.
“Yeah, that shit. Not too long. Ivy, stick to solid colors. I don’t want to see a bunch of crazy ass designs and nails so long you can’t even wipe yo’ ass,” he chastised her.
I couldn’t help it; I snickered, and my eyes fell on my food. For a second there, he reminded me of my daddy, and nostalgia hit me. Somberness was next as I lost my appetite. I dropped my fork to my dish and leaned back. Ivy continued to chew her food. She was an intuitive child, and I found myself wondering about her as much as she seemed to me.
“So what’s really the deal between you and my daddy?” All that innocent shit fled as soon as Frequency was out the doors, and both of my brows raised, shocked.
Suddenly, I was hungry again or anxious to fill my mouth with anything but answers to her questions.
“I’m twelve. I’m not slow or an idiot,” she spoke up, narrowing her eyes at me. “He loves my mama. Now and forever. He told me so himself. He said he could never love another woman because she was his heart. So… whatever you think this is, you should take heed to this reality check.” The nastiness in her tone was appalling.
Gaping at her with my spoon in hand, I wondered,who is this child, and what happened to the fake ass little heffa that was just all up in my face most of the afternoon?
“Have I given you the impression that you are slow or too young for anything today?” I jerked my neck back and asked.
My reaction to her snippiness surprised her. I guess she was used to closed-lipped women that allowed her to talk to them any kind of way. I definitely wasn’t the one for that. I could empathize with her because it was fucked up to lose a parent. My mother wasn’t dead, but most of the time, it felt like she was. She left one day and never came back. To me, she did die that day.
“There is absolutely nothing going on with me and your father. He’s a business associate, and he’s helping me out. That’s it.” My explanation didn’t seem to go over too well with her.
“Whatever. You see how he is. He had another woman over, and you are living in a separate wing of our house. I don’t know about you, but I can smell the BS.”
“Hmm, and I bet your father wouldn’t appreciate you using that language,” I retorted, digging back into my bowl.
“As you can see, he is easily preoccupied. I’ve been here for two days now, and we haven’t spent five minutes alone together,” Ivy pointed out.
That was it. She was bitter about being neglected. She went around putting on an act that she was fine with her quick lip, but in reality, she was really crying out for some one-on-one time with her father.
“Maybe you should talk to him about it. I mean, what was today about? You were a brat pretty much all day,” I pointed out with a frown.
Her jaw dropped and she gasped. “I was not a brat!” Ivy objected, smacking her lips.
“You kind of were,” I muttered playfully. “The last thing you have to worry about is me and your father doing anything but making money together.”
“Hmm, so do you have a boyfriend?” she asked, grabbing her drink and sipping through her straw.
