by Amy Brent
She was killing me.
But I pasted a smile on my face instead of a tortured expression as I pulled up and put the car in park, so I could walk around to open the door for her. She flushed, and I found myself reacting to that.
Perhaps I shut the door a bit more harshly than I needed to, but I wanted to cut that line of thinking off right then and there. I was a bit grateful for the gently approaching darkness of the night as I got back into the driver’s seat and punched the location into the GPS.
Perhaps I should have known how to get there from memory, but to be honest I preferred to cook food myself. Although going and treating my daughter out every once in a while was quite nice, there was certainly value in a home cooked meal. I never wanted to be that rich guy who forgot all of his roots and ended up some sociopathic asshole. No matter how successful I was, Anthony still had to be Anthony.
Besides, my wealth could vanish in a single day and I didn’t ever want to be completely dependent on it.
We were quiet for a bit in the car, but I didn’t quite realize it until Stella cleared her throat lightly. “Uh… I’m a bit nervous.”
I glanced to her out of the corner of my eye, wanting to keep my attention on the road. “Really? Why? It’s dinner. That’s about an innocuous act as I can imagine.”
“Yeah, it’s just dinner, but it’s at some super wealth place. And I’m… ya know. Not.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m going to make you wear a sign or anything.”
“I know. But like… what if they can tell?”
“They won’t be able to tell. You don’t have anything to worry about. Besides, when was being poor a sigh of character?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “It seemed to matter a whole hell of a lot to people at school. And you know… politics…. The government. Life in general….”
“Alright, alright. I won’t pretend that I don’t remember how hard it was being around the poverty line.”
She sighed gratefully, as if she was worried about what I would have said. I couldn’t blame her. I was sure that high schoolers and young college kids were still just as awful as I remembered.
We arrived not that much later, and I parked once more, going around to help her out. This time I had control of my actions and I didn’t physically react to her smooth, appealing cleavage as she slipped out of the car.
It was a relatively uneventful walk inside and we were greeted by a well put together hostess. The uniform at the place was certainly high end, but it reminded me of my own college days which were mostly spent working service jobs until I could land a mechanic position with someone willing to train me on the many things I didn’t know and didn’t have access to. Nowadays with the internet it was so much easier to learn everything.
The hostess led us to our table, a nice place towards a less hectic corner. I appreciated Benniccio’s for being somewhere between low mood lighting but bright enough where I could see the menu without squinting.
“Get whatever you like,” I said to Stella as we sat.
But she just snorted. “Oh no, I’m sure that the moment I look at this menu that I’m going to have some severe sticker shock and my appetite will go right out the window.”
I chuckled slightly, pleased by how honest she was being with me. Not that she had ever been much of a liar, but if there was one thing that I had noticed about Stella, it was that she was reserved with giving out any sort of personal information.
I had no doubt that it was because anything she let her mother in on was always used against her in an insult or a barb, and I also knew that it would probably take years to get over that.
So, seeing her trust me with these little tidbits was… nice. To put it simply.
“Well, we can’t have that happening,” I said assumingly. “That’s not how you have a good meal. How about I just read you things and you tell me what sounds good.”
“Really?” she asked in an echo of my own question earlier. “That sounds like an awful lot of effort.”
“It’d be worth it if I knew that you were getting full meal.”
Her voice softened, and she looked at me with big, brown eyes. “I don’t think I’m that important.”
“Well I do,” I answered, trying not to let my heart squeeze in my chest. All of my instincts were telling me that I needed to protect her. That she was hurt and scared and I was the only thing standing between her and those who would hurt her. But I also had to tell myself that I wasn’t that important, and I was being overdramatic. “So how about we start with a drink. Some wine?”
She blushed again. “Oh… I’m not old enough to drink. At least not legally.”
“Right.” I said, feeling the tiniest trickle of chagrin. I had forgotten just how incredibly young she was. While my daughter was bright and had managed to skip a semester, Stella had managed to skip two whole years of school. No doubt that lead to much of why she was bullied, but I admired it greatly. “So a sparkling juice then?”
“Just water.”
“I’m serious when I say you can have whatever you want.”
“I know. You’re not the type of man to say what you don’t mean. But I just like water. It’s the best drink.”
“I’m sure doctors must love you.”
She crinkled her cute button nose, freckles bunching in a way that was too adorable to be possible. “Nah. Mostly they lecture me on my weight. They don’t care that I can dropkick a guy.”
“Do you find yourself having to do that often?” I said with a mild smirk. I was aware from my ex how often doctors like to hound women for their weight and blame everything on it. She went in for migraines? Lose some weight. She went in for period issues? Lose some weight. Depression? Weight. A lot of that was why I still felt for her. My ex had a lot of problems and could get the proper help for them.
“No. But just enough to know that I’m pretty good at it.”
“You’ve certainly lived an interesting life, haven’t you?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe? I mostly feel like I haven’t lived much at all yet.”
The way she was looking at me was too much, as if she was observing each and every expression on my face, taking inventory of it all. And I found myself equally drawn to her, my body crying out to give in and examine the curious feelings flooding through it.
“I would say that’s fair. Really, you’re just a baby.”
Her face crumpled ever so slightly. “I’m not a baby. I’m a woman now, even if I’m your daughter’s age.”
“You’re younger than my daughter’s age actually.”
Her lower lip came forward in a pout and I just wanted to catch it between my own teeth. Naturally I refrained, but thankfully the waiter came by just in time.
“And what can I start you off with today?”
“We’ll start with two waters, one glass of your house wine, and the hors d’oeuvres that I are listed on your specials up front.”
“No wine for the lady?” the waiter asked, turning his back completely to me and looking to Stella.
“Oh no, I’m alright sir,” she said, her brown eyes flicking to me uncertainly.
“Aw, come on now,” he said, and I could almost feel him winking at her. “A beautiful young lady like yourself should treat yourself.”
“Uh, actually… I’m only twenty.”
“What? Really? I don’t believe you!”
I cleared my throat and the waiter finally looked to me. “That will be all for now.”
“Right. Of course.”
He scampered off, clearly catching my drift, and I looked to Stella with amusement.
“What was that all about?” she asked incredulously, lifting one of her eyebrows.
“You couldn’t tell?”
She just shook her head earnestly, looking to me with a curious expression. It was hard to believe that bright, insightful Stella didn’t get what just happened, but she really did seem to be confused.
“He was flirti
ng with you.”
“What?” Her brown eyes went wide, and her expression went through a myriad of changes. From incredulous, to doubtful, all the way back to shocked. “No he wasn’t.”
“He really was. Hard.” I laughed, almost feeling a bit bad for the boy now. “I guess your boyfriend back at campus doesn’t have a thing to worry about.”
I didn’t know why I said that, but her brows furrowed almost instantly. “Huh? I don’t have a boyfriend back at campus.”
“You don’t?” I replied. “I mean, I don’t blame you. When I was your age, I certainly enjoyed my freedoms.” I though for a moment about Stella drifting from party to party, her cheeks slightly reddened from the cheap beer in her hand and her curvy body dolled up in something she wouldn’t want her teachers to wear.
That thought set in far to easily and it took quite a lot in me to cut it off. Lord, what was wrong with me?
“I, uh, I don’t do that either.”
“You don’t?” Of course, she didn’t. She was a book worm and an insanely hard worker. Boys probably came to her, begging for her attention. “Come on, I’m sure there’s got to be at least a couple of boys walking around campus that suit your fancy.”
She shrugged. “Who says fancy? What, is this the renaissance era?”
I leaned forward, suddenly much more interested than I knew I should be. “Come on, you have to have a type. What is it? The bad boy on campus? The starving, skinny boy who looks like he hasn’t slept in ten years? The jock? The male lead in the drama department?” I raised my eyebrow. “Or maybe something more feminine?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re hilarious.”
“No really, I wanna know.” I couldn’t say why I did, just knew that I did. “What’s your type?”
Her brown eyes zeroed in on me and suddenly it was like I was drowning in the warm honey, the umber color of the earth that encompassed everything.
“You,” she said so deliberately that I was completely shocked out of an answer.
I stared back at her, my gaze roving over her face, my brain trying to compute what she had said. Me? What? She was kidding right? That’s what I got for prying so much.
But as I studied each and every facet of her expression, it felt like she was being completely serious.
But then, just as the tension was reaching its peak and my mind was about to tear itself in two trying to comprehend what was happening, a smile slid over her full lips.
“I’m just kidding. I’m sorry, that probably wasn’t very appropriate.”
I let out a breath of air and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. Perhaps both? But one of those was an issue, while the other wasn’t.
“It’s fine,” I said with a laugh. “But you certainly got me.”
“Oh, is the thought of being my type that horrifying?” she asked, looking at me so coquettishly that I had to wonder how many expressions she could fit across her face in such a short amount of time.
“No! Of course not. You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you know that.”
“Do I?” she murmured, tilting her head ever so slightly so that she was looking at me through her glasses.
“But that’s not the point,” I continued, not willing myself to fall into that. I was sure that if I started talking about her body, or her gorgeous face, that I was say something entirely inappropriate myself. “You’re my daughter’s best friend and not even half my age.”
“That’s true,” she agreed without really agreeing at all.
Her response just didn’t seem to mesh with how I expected her to react. I thought she might laugh and admit I was quite old, or fatherly. I found myself staring at her again, trying to read whatever thoughts that were going on in that head of hers.
But then our appetizers and drinks came, and the waiter was asking what we wanted for our meal. I had forgotten that I was supposed to read her the whole menu, so I just ordered her what I thought she might like and a nice steak dinner for myself. She didn’t protest at the amount of her meal, fresh lobster with seared scallops and some appropriate sides, so I assumed my menu plan had worked.
The conversation drifted to more conventional topics of conversation and yet it felt like something had shifted between us. This was no longer just a dinner between a father and his daughter’s friend due to a series of unpredictable events. This was a meal between a very lonely man and a beautiful woman.
I couldn’t help but feel as much guilt as I did longing, however. I was a responsible, mature man. I was the type of guy people could go to when they were in crisis. When they needed help and it felt like there was no way out. Kind, reliable guys didn’t prey on twenty-year-old women.
Yet when my eyes occasionally met hers, I couldn’t help but feel like I was the one being stalked and that went against every dominant part of me.
Eventually, however, the meal did come to an end and we were heading back to the car. The conversation had turned to the local farmer’s market and how much Stella missed it which seemed like a much safer topic of conversation.
But now Pandora’s Box had been opened and I found myself thinking about what might happen if this were a regular date. How I would take Stella to my house, ravish her across my bed, then treat her like a queen in the morning. As much as I liked to dominate in bed, and take and mark and leave my partner breathless, I also loved pampering them like the royalty they are.
No!
I slammed my door a bit harder than necessary, trying to get those thoughts out of my head. I was going to make myself lose my mind, and not in a good way.
“Are you okay, Anthony?” Stella asked from beside me, her voice a bit small. “You’re kinda speeding.”
Oh, was I? I looked to the speedometer to see I was indeed going a bit fast. I slowed down but shot her a weak smile. “Sorry, I’m just an old man and the ‘itis hit me hard. I’m going to need to head to sleep as soon as we’re in.”
“Wow, really?” She tilted her head back, laughing. “You sound like me during the school year. As soon as I get home from work I slide into bed and never look back.”
“They run you that ragged, huh?” I asked. She nodded, and I felt that tell-tale sliver of protective concern. “But you get nights to go out and do clubs, or other activities, right? It’s not just work and school?”
She shook her head, her eyes settling shut as she curled up in the passenger’s seat. “No. I can only handle so much between my classes and my job. Anything else, and I think I might go crazy.”
Now the concern was running full force. “That’s not healthy, you know. You need rest.”
“I get rest,” she argued. “Every Sunday afternoon when we close at four. I try to make sure all my homework is finished throughout the week, so I can just soak in the bath and sleep and maybe do some reading.”
“That’s it? One afternoon?”
She shrugged. “It’s college, it’s supposed to be hard. Your daughter works the same job as me.”
“Yeah, but she works part-time, and she told me that you work full-time with almost double her hours. That can’t be good for you.”
“It probably isn’t, but not paying the bills would be a whole lot worse for me, so given the two, I’ll take the exhausted but paid.”
“You’re a college student! What bills could you have?”
Even in the dark I could tell that she was giving me an incredulous look. “Food, transport, clothes, books. The only student loans I qualified for without a co-signer have mad ridiculous interest rates so I’m doing what I can to try to mitigate that now. I went without a meal plan at school, and I don’t have insurance through the school either.”
“Don’t your parents help you with… anything?”
She full on snorted and the sound was so dry and derisive that I could feel it from where I was sitting. “Um… you’ve met them. What do you think?”
“Right. I just… I guess that I had hoped for more from them.”
“You and m
e both,” she murmured before continuing on. “I would actually be a whole lot better off if I made more than the base rate fulltime rate at our job, but I need to work there another six months before I get a raise. Even then… it’s definitely not going to be enough once I graduate.” She groaned. “All this money talk is depressing. Let’s not end the night on this note.”
“Yeah… let’s not.” But my mind was already churning. I knew that Stella’s financial situation wasn’t the greatest, but I had no idea that they were that heartless.
Then again, how could I have not known? Hadn’t her mother just tried to wrangle me down for some cash just for allowing her daughter to escape her for a bit? I suppose that I had just never thought about it that deeply.
What a joke. I thought myself noble for helping to take care of her, and generous in allowing her over and encouraging her friendship with my daughter when I was young, yet here I was, allowing her to work herself to the bone while I had an entire empire.
I was going to have to talk to Rachelle and see what we could do for her. I knew Stella was too proud to take any money directly, but maybe I could have my daughter throw a hissy fit about the quality of food always in the house and insist to take over groceries. That way Stella would probably not have to eat the cheap quality food that she could possibly afford and save the money she would normally spend on groceries. It would probably be much more difficult to help her in other ways, but at least that would be a start.
We arrived back at home and this time I did pull into the garage. I contemplated leaving her at the front door and going around, but the idea of leaving her by herself, outside in the night air definitely didn’t seem that great to me, so inside my work room we went.
Stella took a deep breath as I helped her out of the car. “Ah. I love that smell.”
“Do you?” I asked, surprised. I remembered that my ex absolutely hated it and wanted to get rid of my mechanic cave altogether.
