–Noah: But effective. He won’t be going anywhere.
–Sebastian: Hire somebody to sabotage his cars so they don’t start in the morning.
–Emmett: All of them? Too iffy.
–Nicholas: What if something happens to Joey? Dad can’t tie his own shoes without that weasel. I suggest getting a hooker to distract him.
–Griffin: Do it! Hell, I’m gonna get a hooker just to screw him.
–Emmett: Don’t have her screw him. The woman will deserve better. Have her stab him with a tranq dart.
–Me: Thanks, guys, but stand down. I need to do this. It’s important to Aspen.
She didn’t grow up like us. She was raised by good people. To her, meeting the parents is a natural progression in a relationship. She wouldn’t understand if I refused to have her meet Dad, and I don’t want her to feel inferior or somehow “less” because of my father issues.
Mom’s in Greece right now—and thank God, because she doesn’t get along with Dad or Joey. I’d hate to ask the waitstaff to clean blood up off the floor.
Aspen and I dress with care. She wants to make a good impression. I just want to look great so she doesn’t dump me on the spot after having to endure Dad for an entire meal.
She’s in a deep emerald top and skirt, which look amazing on her. Her outfit is pretty conservative, and that’s on purpose—I don’t want to give Dad any weird ideas about her wanting to break into Hollywood. He thinks every woman wants to be in movies.
Dad and Joey walk in together. Joey takes a left turn and takes a table a few yards away, like a dog that isn’t allowed to sit with its owner. Dread has been coiling in my gut, but at least Dad’s dressed like a respectable human being in a white dress shirt, charcoal slacks and sports jacket. He’s clean-shaven, so that’s good. He could lose the smarmy smile, but at least he doesn’t look high or hungover.
“You must be Aspen,” he says, reaching over and taking her hand in both of his. Then he pulls her up and hugs her.
On the second heartbeat, I swat his hands on her back. “That’s long enough, Dad.”
He reluctantly lets go. “I’m just overcome. Finally getting to meet the girl who brought you to your knees.”
“It wasn’t quite like that,” she says with a smile.
“I’m Ted. So happy to meet you.” He sits down. “You can’t imagine how happy I am. I was never introduced to Jenny and Sarah properly.”
Oh for God’s sake.“Amy and Sierra.” He can never remember their names.
Concern clouds Aspen’s face. “Does he have the same problem my grandpa had?” she asks,sotto voce. She shoots a look of underserved sympathy in Dad’s direction.
“No. He’s”—too lazy and self-centered—“just terrible with names.”
“I think she likes me,” Dad announces. He takes her in with his eyes.
Our server comes over with a pot of fresh coffee. I order pancakes and bacon, and she asks for French toast. I push cream and sugar in her direction. Dad gets the eggs benedict with organic berries.
“Get her the berries too. Women always love berries,” he says, deciding for her because that’s what he does for everyone.
When our server leaves, his smile grows wider, his eyes twinklier.
I don’t like that. Not even a little. I brace myself for a tsunami of embarrassment.
“So. Where’s my invitation?” he asks.
Aspen seems momentarily nonplussed. “Invitation?”
“There is no invitation.” I’d rather perform a naked pole dance in the middle of the office.
“Nonsense! Every wedding has invitations.” He’s as outraged as if I’d said some other producer bangs more chicks.
“I’m not sure we’re quite that far along yet,” Aspen says.
