“Dad, please sit. What can I do for you?” I asked as I sat behind my desk, crossing my legs, arms folded. He looked taken aback by my cool demeanor but didn’t comment.
“You go by Richards?” He remained standing.
I nodded. “It’s just easier.”
The nonchalant nature of my tone made his brows furrow. “How so?” he asked as he finally sat, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“Everyone in the legal field knows the name Combs. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to make the connection of Chanel Combs being the daughter of the great Elliott Combs.” I swear the bit of scorn in my voice was unintentional, but I couldn’t hold it back. “I want my job and clients coming to me because ofmyname. Not someone else’s.”
He stared at me, head tilted, trying to decipher what I really meant. He needn’t have bothered. I said what I meant. I didn’t need anyone attributing my success or failure in my field to nepotism, especially since my father had been the biggest opponent of my career in the first place.
“So, back to my original question: what are you doing here?”
“To see if you wanted to have lunch?”
I choked on the water that I’d begun sipping. I held up my hand when it looked like my father was standing to come around and help me. “I-I’m fine,” I squeaked out. “Just went down the wrong pipe.” I cleared my throat. “Lunch? Are you sure you’ve got the right child?”
“Chanel,” he began, his face pinched.
“I’ve already eaten. Was that all?”
“Well, no. Marjorie and I—”
“So Marjorie is the reason you’ve come down here?” I knew it couldn’t have been his idea. It made sense that that wife of his was behind his sudden appearance at my office, on the other side of town from his.
“Yes, Marjorie andI,” he emphasized the last word, “wanted to invite you to the firm’s annual gala. It’s next Saturday evening.”
I sat, stunned. I’d known the gala was coming up. Each year for the last twenty years or so, his firm hosted a gala to raise funds for different causes. I hadn’t attended one since college, using the excuses of living on the east and then the west coastsas reasons why I couldn’t attend. The last thing I expected was for my father to invite me, in person no less.
“Where is it going to be?”
“At theMuseum of Natural Science. In the Burke Planetarium.”
I raised an eyebrow. The extent of my father’s reach never failed to amaze me. I knew it was not an easy feat to get an event at Houston’sMuseum of Natural Science, in the planetarium, no less.
“It starts at seven-thirty. Here’s the invitation with all the details. And I’ll arrange a car to pick you up, so you won’t have to drive home,” he began, standing up.
“Wait. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to attend,” I bluffed.
His head tilted as he looked down on me, wearing the same condescending expression he would give me as a child when I did something to disappoint him. Though I felt scolded by that look, I refused to flinch or avert my gaze.
“Chanel, I’ll see you at seven-thirty next Friday. All the details are arranged.”
“So, this visit wasn’t to ask me, but to tell me I was coming to your event?” My anger began to rise at his audacity.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t make me twist your arm. Marjorie would like you to be there.”
Marjorie. Not him. At those words, I had to look away because I didn’t want him to see how his statement cut me. I’d spent years telling myself my father’s indifference toward me didn’t matter, but apparently, somewhere deep down, that was a lie.
“Fine.” I hated how weak my voice sounded.
He nodded, rebuttoned his suit jacket, and paused as if he wanted to say something else, but what else was there left to say? He must’ve come to the same conclusion because no words came, and after a second, he left.
Once he was gone, I swung around in my chair and simply stared out my office window. I don’t know how long I remained like that until my office phone rang. It was Liza alerting me that my three o’clock client had arrived. After telling her to send them to the conference room, I managed to regroup and refocus on work. But the rest of the day felt as if it crept past.
****
“Hey, Donna. How’s it going?” I spoke into my cell. It was close to four-thirty Friday night, and I was leaving work a little early to get ready for the gala that night.
