Again, I couldn’t share the truth. No, I was unwilling to. It wasn’t like my father had a gun to my head. Not that he couldn’t, if he wanted. You didn’t get to his position without some blood under your nails. He dangled my credit cards over a shredder instead.
When he first told me about his plans, I acted exactly like Katie, incensed and enraged. The bar set in his study didn’t survive my preteen tantrum. As the 30-year-old scotch spread across the hardwood floor strewn with shattered crystal, he gave the ultimatum. He’d cut me off if I denied him.
“It’s not complicated, you’re a free woman,” Katie argued, same as always.
No, I wasn’t a free woman. I’d been bought and paid for like one of the high end call girls at my father’s exclusive escort service, a virgin whore.
“That wasn’t a joke,” said Katie, her ‘really, Gia’ expression glued in place.
Had I laughed?
My eyes fell to the two empty glasses in front of me on the table. Sure, I had not been drinking that much since the cucumber lime vodka incident during spring break, but two drinks shouldn’t have hit me that hard.
Everyone’s drunk was different, I’d found in my admittedly limited experience. We all had different inhibitions. After Katie downed a few, she got emotional. Nine times out of ten, she’d stay happy, bouncy and infectiously energetic. Just like Russian roulette, there was a single, regrettable shot in the revolver. Sad, drunk Katie might have been rare, but when it came out she went from the life of the party to its unrepentant murder.
When I drank, my mind turned inward. The alcohol picked the locks to memories and thoughts I tried not to dwell on. Thankfully, drinking with a cheery Katie kept me from getting lost down those dusty mental paths. Now, I just had to keep her smiling.
“You know what, maybe it is a good time, for, you know,” I said, only losing my nerve at the end.
“Really? You’re not just saying that to shut me up?” Katie grinned, wide-eyed.
I nodded and dropped my eyes to my hands. It had never made sense why she held such interest in me losing my virginity. She’d never been shy about sharing her own sexual history, usually with way too much detail. Maybe she wanted a partner in crime to share war stories with.
“Okay.” Katie clapped her hands and rubbed them together. Her eyes darted toward the other patrons and through the dark windows of the indoor section. “We’ll have to be on the lookout for a good enough guy. I’ll be your wing woman and we better get some more drinks. I don’t know if you ever had the talk, but lubrication is important.”
A yipping cackle escaped my lips before I pressed them shut. Maybe I’d had enough. The joke wasn’t that funny. Katie didn’t suppress her reaction to her own joke. Her head fell back, blonde curls dancing in the breeze.
“I still don’t know why you never dated,” she said once she recovered and took a deep breath.
“What would’ve been the point?” I shot back. “My future is already set. None of those relationships could last. Why string a guy along?”
“That’s crap.” Katie slapped the table and leaned forward. “Why did you hang those artsy fartsy posters in our apartment?”
“Because I like them,” I replied, flinching from her sudden movement.
“But now that we’re done with school, we’re moving out.” Katie paused, flashing her triumphant smile, made manic with the shots of grappa. “Since it was only temporary, why decorate at all? Not every guy wants something long-term. Hell, most guys wouldn’t say no to something temporary, even if they already had a partner. Nothing says you can’t sample before you’re saddled with some geezer.”
Sometimes, a drink or two gave Katie profound insight. Of course, I’d always downed a few myself when she dispersed her wisdom. It might have been the grappa that loosened my standards and my tongue.
“What if I really liked one of those samples, wanted only it,” I whispered. “I don’t want to fall in love with a guy only to have to marry ‘some geezer’ as you put it.”
For the second time, Katie burst into giggles, head stretched back over the chair, her bare shoulders quaking. I glared at my supposed BFF.
“Sorry, sorry.” Katie held her hands up, surrendering once she saw my frown. “But you have to admit it’s funny. You? Worried about falling in love? You’re a cold, calculating bitch, Gia. And I say that as a compliment, but it’s also why we never got invited back to Tiffany’s board game nights.”
“The point of the game is to win,” I said, hearing the same words in my head spoken by my father.
“The point of the game is to have fun,” Katie replied with her ‘really, Gia’ expression.
“Winning is the most fun.” I finished our often repeated mock argument before we fell into giggles.
The laughter ended when the tsk tsk tsk of cymbals blared from my phone. Horns joined in a second later with the opening to “New York, New York.” My father’s favorite song, his ringtone on my phone, one I literally couldn’t change. He’d probably had some intern at one of the tech companies owned by Marciano Capital hack the OS to keep that ringtone for all time.
“I’m going to go get us more drinks, maybe I’ll find someone inside for you to sample.” Katie pushed herself up and only swayed a little. “Have fun talking to Father.”
I offered a sneer to her unflattering impression. She only giggled. Once she slipped through the door, I took a deep breath and tapped the phone.
“Father.” My greeting sounded too much like Katie’s mockery but I hadn’t called him anything else almost as far back as I could remember.
