“Yeah, yeah, it is,” I say. “Publicly, anyway.”
“So who is this girl you’re tucked away in dark booths with, sharing appetizers and what looks like some salty banter?” he presses.
“Her name is Mila,” I tell him.
“Where’d you meet her?”
Hmm. That’s a tricky question for sure. I can’t tell the truth. So naturally, I lie. “The neighborhood.”
“New girl in town. Interesting. What’s she do for a living?”
“PR,” I lie again. Although I suppose that’s notreallya lie. She does work in public relations, the serving end of things anyhow.
“Where’s she from?”
“Here.”
“Parents?”
“Haven’t met them yet,” I say. “We’re going slow.” The last part is a dig at him. He’s trying to insinuate that I am rushing things. A means to an end. I’m going to prove him wrong.
“Interesting,” he says, and I stop.
Mila is walking to the kitchen in a towel. She’s soaking wet, and the tiny white towel is wrapped around her body snugly,revealing the tops of her breasts and the bottom of her ass. I pivot my chair to watch her open the cabinet, reaching for a water glass. They’re on the second shelf, and she is not exactly tall. She stands on her tiptoes, reaching high, revealing more of her ass.
My dad is still talking, but I don’t hear a word he is saying. There’s too much blood rushing…elsewhere.
Suddenly, as she attempts to usebothhands to reach a glass, the towel comes loose, but she catches it just in time. She fills the glass with water and sashays out of the kitchen.
“Are you listening to me?” My dad’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and it isn’t until then that I realize I am sweating.
“Yes, sorry, the phone went dead for a second,” I blurt.
“Big shot security CEO and your home phone is shit,” he chuckles, but the comment doesn’t make my blood burn the way it normally would. Thanks to Mila, it’s already boiling.
“I was saying that I think it’s awfully convenient that you are suddenly in the dating scene,” he says.
“Why is it convenient?” I ask, fully ready to spar. I’ve been preparing for this. My dad isn’t stupid. He’s also not in my favor.
“I think we both know the answer to that question,” he says. “I think we also both know that if you tried to pull one on me, I could easily pull the rug out from underneath you.”
I stand up and pace the room in slow, intentional strides. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing my relationship with Mila is real.”
“Chemistry?” he asks.
More like heated banter, but I suppose that counts. “Yes.”
“Social balance?”
She no longer works at the Cockpit, so that evens things out a little bit. “Yes.”
“Attraction?” he asks.
Just then, Mila walks by in silky pajama bottoms and a nearly see-through matching top. She is barefoot, padding her way across the kitchen. She opens the fridge and bends down to look inside, her ass on full display.
“Yeah,” I let out.
“Alright, well, I guess we will see what happens,” he says.
