Chapter 3

Chloe

The beach house in La Jolla was a bit much, but my father always did go off the deep-end in gift giving. I unpacked slowly, taking my time and ignoring the constant buzz of my phone. It was the group of girls I went to high school with, most of them friends with me simply because it gave them status and something to brag about.

A soft sigh left me as I finished putting everything up. The big house was still basically empty after I unpacked. I should have invited some of the girls from UCLA to come down with me. There were two or three bedrooms, but each had multiple beds in them. It was going to be too quiet at night, and after watching horror movies all my life, I was sure to come up with a million ways to die by the end of the first night. It was an obsession I needed to get over.

I checked the refrigerator to see that my father had paid someone to come pack it with all of my favorites. My childhood rushed past me, sickening me as it always did. All those years of growing up with nothing more than nannies and butlers to raise me. With enough snacks and presents dropped sporadically around the house I was supposed to be okay with not having a father.

"He couldn't handle anything after mom died," I spoke quietly, the sound of my own voice comforting. It was the only consistent voice in my life.

Picking up the phone, I dialed his number and swallowed the sadness that always seemed to sit at the edge of my world.

"Pumpkin. You here?"

"I am. Where are we meeting?" I picked the sticker off of a t-shirt that sat on the counter, a big card that said 'welcome home' on it. Another gift. Great.

“I’ll be there shortly.” He dropped the call, thrusting me into silence again.

“Right. See you soon,” I mumbled sarcastically and walked around the beach house until a horn honked outside.

I grabbed my phone from the counter and called him. “Is that you outside?”

"Yes. I'm sitting in the driveway of the beach house. Come on out and we'll go to that steak house you like that hangs over into the sea."

"Sounds good. Be right out." I hung up and walked to the bathroom, dragging a brush through my long blond hair. I was a hot mess thanks to riding all the way from L.A. with the windows down. My father would comment on my appearance if I didn't spruce it up a little. Some days he seemed more willing to marry me off than simply have a real conversation that didn't revolve around my school or his career.

I put on a little bit of mascara and some lip gloss and growled, "Steak house."

I hated red meat, but he wouldn’t know that. He didn’t know anything about me, nor did he really want to. I’d given up on trying to have a real conversation with him before I could tie my own sneakers.

Dinner would be comfortable and I'd placate him with a few stories from the past semester and then come back home and gorge on cupcakes and scary movies, though I shouldn’t. One was sure to kill me before the other.

I grabbed my purse and walked out of the front door of the house. The back opened right up onto the beach, which was the best part of the place.

The limo that sat in front of the house was a bit of a surprise. My father had several cars, but his silver Lexus was his guilty pleasure of choice. The stretch limo was a bit much, but I was sure he had an excuse for the extravagance. He always did.

The driver got out and smiled at me, holding the door. "Miss Moore. How are you this evening?"

"Good. Thank you." I lifted my nose a little, acting like they expected me to.

"Pumpkin. Don't you look beautiful?" My father reached up and pulled me into a tight hug as the driver shut the door behind me. I was more surprised that the old man got out of the car than I was that he’d brought the thing. It seemed a little risky to be driving around in something that would draw attention to us no matter where we went.

"Thanks, Dad." I moved to the seat beside him and worked on getting my seatbelt on before turning to pin him with a stare. "What's with the car? I thought we were trying to keep a low profile because of the death threats popping up everywhere?"

"Yeah, but I thought it would be fun. It's been awhile since we've been on a father-daughter date, so I thought, why the hell not? Besides, we pay for the best protection in the world. Let the bad guys come. They won’t get too far." He smiled and I forced a tight smile myself.

Why not was because it would draw attention our way no matter where we were. Not only that, but there were starving kids in the orphanage down the block, but let's ride in class.

"Well, cool. If you’re comfortable with it, then I guess I am as well." I smiled and turned to ask him about his campaign trail, but his phone buzzed and he pulled it out and lifted his hand, silencing me like he had been doing my whole life.

"I need to get this. Excuse me for a minute." He answered it before I could mutter a word.

"Sure," I mumbled under my breath and pulled out my own phone, sinking down in the seat next to him and flipping through the various text messages I had.

One was from Jeremy. "Hey pretty girl. Just seeing if you were going to be in town this weekend. I got concert tickets to T-swift and figured you might want to go. Let me know and I'll even buy you a hot dog."

I rolled my eyes and laughed softly, unable to help myself. Where I might really enjoy seeing Taylor in concert, I knew without a doubt that Jeremy wouldn't. He was in his early thirties and still trying to act like he wasn't. It was too much.

"What's funny?" My father turned toward me. I hadn't realized he was off the call.

"Oh, just Jeremy asking me to a concert. I swear he thinks he's my age."

"Chloe. You know I don't like you talking to him. Something is off about the guy." My father patted my leg. "Text him back and tell him no."

I ruffled at the fact that my dad was telling me what to do and I was in my early twenties. I wanted to defy him just for the sake of doing it, but it wasn't worth the emotional energy. I would push back and he would remind me of my mother's death and the hardship he had as a single father trying to make not only my life better, but the world better for everyone.

"Yep. I'll tell him, Dad. Nothing to worry about." I slipped the phone back in my purse. "Now... tell me about the campaign. Are you blazing a trail of goodness and truth across the United States?"

He laughed as his face lit up. "We need reform. I've been saying that for years. It's time for another reformation. Do you know the story of Martin Luther?"

"No. Tell it to me." I smiled and leaned back, pretending to listen as I went to my happy place. I had heard the story of Martin Luther a million times, but my father sold the same stale stories to so many people that he long ago forgot the faces of those of us that had heard them. I didn't have the heart to join in, copying his words right alongside him. It would be childish, and though I would enjoy it in the moment... later I would hate myself even more. The worst part was that he should have known that he’d told me the story a million times before, but I was no different than them to him. I was just another voting member of society.

How can I be surrounded by people and yet feel so alone all the time?

"Pumpkin. Are you listening to me?" He poked at my side and I jumped.

"Oh sorry. I actually studied Martin Luther in one of my history classes last year. I was lost in the story and imagining myself there." I brushed my hands down my white summer dress and turned my attention back to him. "What is your plan to keep yourself safer after the attack a few weeks back?"

"I always have Pauly beside me, but we've added a few extra guys to the payroll. There's one of them in particular that I wanted to talk to you about." He tapped his leg, which was never a good sign.

"Dad. I'm not interested in dating right now. I have one more year of school and then med school after that."

He laughed. "No. I'm not setting you up, silly. I'd rather you not focus on anything but school right now."

"Oh, good. Then what's up with this guy?" My conclusion had been rather ignorant. My father, though not completely withdrawn from my life, had rarely gotten involved in trying to get me to date. He almost seemed to be more content when I wasn’t seeing anyone. Less to worry about, no doubt.

"Well, I've been talking with my advisors and they’re concerned about some of the threat's I've been getting lately."

"Threats? Death threats?" The tight strain of his voice got my attention.

"Yes, but please don't worry. I have full protection around me. The only part of me that's exposed to threat really is... well, you." He brushed his fingers over his eyebrows as if trying to get them to lay flat. It was his tale-tell way of trying to look cool in the midst of extreme nervousness.

"Me? Wait... are you saying that you want me to have security detail too?" A tightness tugged at my insides that I’d only experienced a few times in my short life. Anything that felt like constraints left me struggling to breathe and ready to fight for my rights.

"Yes, but just until we know if I'm in the primaries. If I'm not, which I highly doubt that I'll make it this time, we'll let him go."

"Hell no." I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. "There is no way I'm having some guy follow me out every time I go somewhere. I’m not in danger. Nothing has happened to me. I doubt they even know I exist Dad."

"He would be with you twenty-four seven Chloe, and this really isn't a request, baby. I'm hiring someone. I cannot have something happen to you. Not after we lost your mother. You know all I've done to make sure you were protected and safe. I can't let something happen now, and don’t be a child. Of course everyone knows that I have a daughter, and that she’s you. That wouldn’t take much digging to uncover, Chloe."

"I don’t care. It's not happening, Dad. You can say anything you want. I'm not having a shadow. It's creepy and I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Keep your security guys with you and just let me live my life."

"It's not that easy, and you know it."

"Fine. I'll just disappear." I knew the minute I said it that me leaving wasn’t at all a possibility. It didn’t even feel good to throw it in his face. Bastard.

I had nothing without him. Somehow he had made sure of that.