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I fold my arms over my chest. “I can’t get ready if you’re in here sniffing around. It’s weird.”
“Are you wearing the perfume I got you?” he asks, as though he didn’t hear a word of what I just said.
“I didn’t like it. I found this one at Neiman Marcus that I like better.”
“Wear the one I bought you,” he says, his face tightening. “And do your makeup. You look sick without it.”
“You don’t look so great yourself. Maybe you should try a little concealer for those bags,” I reply with a scoff.
He’s unmoved, looking me over again like he’s trying to figure out how much he can get for me on the local meat market. “Just get ready and lose the attitude before dinner. We have important things to discuss.”
We? I’m not anticipating saying anything at dinner. I assume he’s talking about his guest because every time he brings someone over, he bores them to death by talking about his uranium mines for hours on end. I’ve never known anyone else so passionate about digging around in the dirt.
I pick my phone up from my bed, checking the message from Jared so that I can escape my father’s unsettling gaze. Jared is sending some half-assed apology, which I open so he knows I’ve seen it but I’m choosing not to respond.
Serves him right for taking Emily to the beach. I’m sure the only reason he’s apologizing is because it’s raining, and he can’t see her in a bikini anymore.
Oh, Jared, if you had just been a bit more patient, you would’ve gotten so much more than that from me.
I feel the air move beside me, and I turn to see my father walking toward the dresser on the far side of the room. He grabs the perfume he bought me, carrying it over to me and thrusting it into my face. “Here. Put it on.”
I turn my nose up at it. “I’m already wearing perfume. It’ll clash.”
“No, it won’t,” he insists, popping the cap off and pointing it at me.
I wave my hand, knocking it onto the floor before he can spray it down my throat. “Could you not?” I exclaim, taking a step back. “You’re really pissing me off right now.”
“You’re pissingmeoff,” he grumbles, picking the velvet coated bottle off the floor. “Just wear the perfume and stop acting like a brat about it.”
Brat? He’s never called me a brat before, even when I was being one.
“You know, I don’t have to come to your stupid dinner if I don’t want to,” I say, jumping away as he tries to spray me with the perfume again. “I was just trying to be nice, but I can go out with my friends tonight instead.”
This seems to strike a nerve, and he puts the cap back on the perfume and pulls his lips into a thin smile. “No, no, I don’t think that will be necessary. You’re going to have a good time tonight, and I think you’re going to like our guest. He’s very… compelling.”
“As long as there’s champagne, I’ll tolerate him,” I relent.
“Red wine and steak. That’s what he wanted.”
“What kind of red?”
“It’s a vintage Malbec,” he replies.
I shrug. “If it gets me drunk, I’ll drink it.”
“Keep your senses tonight. It’s important that you appear like a classy lady,” he says, giving me a smug look. “And wear heels.”
I shake my head at him. “I just broke up with Jared. I’m not looking for another boyfriend, especially not one of your fifty-year-old friends.”
“I’m not asking,” he snaps, turning around and hurrying out of my room before I can berate him for being so rude.
He really thinks he owns me or something, but that’s so unlike him. Usually, he’s cowering at my feet, begging me to join him for dinner so that he can use me as eye candy to close a deal. This one must be important if he’s willing to be so pushy about it.
If he asked nicely, I’d be more inclined to play along. As it stands, I want to defy him just for being such a dick about it, so I change out of the dress he bought and put on a studded leather skirt and a black band t-shirt. Let’s see how he feels about that.
I toss my hair up in a loose bun and start doing my makeup, putting the mascara and eyeliner on thick, challenging my father’s notions of what a classy woman should look like. If he wants me to sit at the table and provide visual stimulation for his guest, we’re doing it my way.
My phone rings just as I finish redoing the wing on my left eye. I swear I can never get them symmetrical.
