Chloe
“For the last time, Chloe, it’s not going to happen. Please, just drop it so we can eat in peace. I’ve had a godawful day, and I just want to drink this wine, eat some junk food, and slump in front of the TV.”
I clenched my fists under the table and glared at him intently, frowning slightly. It’s one of my favourite looks, practiced in the mirror to perfection. Normally it’s quite effective, but today he was having none of it.
“Don’t even try it, sweetheart. I’ve had enough bullshit at work that it’s just not gonna work on me today. I said no, I meant no, that’s the end of it.”
I sighed, somewhat defeatedly. But I wasn’t ready to give up just yet on what had so far been a week long argument, played out in small one or two hourly episodes every evening.
“Dad, I know you don’t like it but I’m not a little girl anymore. All I can see on Instagram are pics of my friends all over the world, and believe me there isn’t a chaperone in sight in any of them. Cocktail bars, pool parties, gorgeous hotels...just young people having fun with no dangerous people nearby!”
I raised my dainty, recently manicured eyebrows and pouted slightly. If this was some random guy I’d just lean forward slightly further than required, showing a hint of cleavage and the suggestion of the large breasts beneath… and the argument would be won there and then.
My Dad looked up from his large glass of wine wistfully, looking almost annoyed that I was distracting him from it.
“Yes, you can’t see the ‘chaperones’ because they’re damn good at staying out of sight! That’s why the good ones cost so damn much! I’m not insisting on this just because I think you’re some special little snowflake, believe me. I have my reasons.”
And here we come to the brick wall again, I thought to myself. We would skirt around why I needed protection without my Dad ever actually answering the question.
“So why do I need a bodyguard then?” I queried. If my Psychology degree had taught me anything at all about body language (which it had, I’d graduated Summa Cum Laude and finished top of my graduating year) it was that my Dad would not be swayed. I didn’t give anything away, but was nearing the end of my patience with the argument and was almost ready to fold.
I’ll make it worth my while when I do though, that’s for damn sure!
He sighed and tore his attention away from the TV for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You know I can’t explain, I’ve told you that. I’ve signed confidentiality agreements that would put me in jail if I even told you what sort of fucking paper they were written on.”
He paused to half drain his glass of wine.
Not sure that’s how you’re supposed to drink a $300 bottle of red wine, Dad...
“Look, I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal, you and I.”
He sat up into what I called his “business mode”, serious face, slightly raised head and shoulders back, hands crossed in front of him.
“I’ll tell you what I can, which would still get me in trouble. But I could probably talk my way out of it. On the condition that you will agree to my terms.”
He smiled.
“Oh, I almost forgot. As a sweetener, I’ll cover all your travel expenses. Not just the flights and accommodation.”
I sat up, eyes widening. This was more to my liking. My Dad was a very rich man, but the money he had put aside for me when I was younger was held in trust in the form of shares in his company, but I couldn’t spend a penny of it until the trust matured in just under two year’s time. And I wanted to go on vacation now.
“Oh, and what’s caused the sudden turn of generosity, Daddy? Did someone slip something in your wine?”
He gave me a sympathetic half-laugh.
“No, Chloe. My company’s share price has risen...rather considerably in the last few days, what with the positive media reaction over the completion of our last contract. Which was front page news, I hasten to add. Oh and the companies are now queuing up to get us to sign more software development contracts, following the news article.”
My Dad still referred to the company as “his”, even though he’d sold the majority stake to a large multinational software and hardware development conglomerate when I was young. The share price had risen sharply, making us billionaires on paper, almost overnight. We were even richer now, it seemed. Not much of that mattered to me though, at least not until my shares matured and I’d have more money than I could ever spend.
At the moment though, I just wanted to enjoy the last few years of my early twenties before I had to worry about buying a house, kids or any of the burdens that would come with either. And by fun I meant luxury travel; partying, sightseeing.
And sex. Not necessarily lots of it, just good sex from a man who knows what he’s doing, not like the small handful I’d experienced casually at college...small being the operative word..
“Deal?” he barked, bringing me out of my daydream.
This is it, then. Time to concede defeat on favourable terms.
“Ok Daddy. If it really means that much to you I’ll let you hire someone to look after me. As long as they don’t get in the way, cramp my style or cockblock me.” My dad winced. Poor choice of words, maybe. “Well, you know what I mean. I am 22 now you know.”
“I know. Anyway, here’s what I can tell you.”
He leant forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “You know I manage software development of one part of the company, right? The position I was given when I returned to work, after your mom… well after she passed away. Let’s just say that I manage the development of software that either helps kill people, or helps to stop people from being killed. And not just for companies - armed forces and governments too. And there’s lots of nasty bastards out there who would do anything to get their hands on it.”
He leant back in his chair, his gaze distant for a second. He rarely spoke about Mom. She had died after a brave but short battle with an aggressive form of cancer when I was three. My Dad had later told me that he had sold the majority of his company at the time of her diagnosis so he could be there to support her and to look after me. I could tell that he still wasn't over her death and would probably never be. And his loss made him even more protective of me, which was touching but could be very smothering at times.
“Anyway,” he continued after a brief pause, “I’ve already told you more than I’ve ever told anyone outside of work about what I do. But hopefully you understand that I’m not just being an overprotective old bastard. I want you to have fun and do your own thing, but I want someone there...just in case, y’know?”
“I know,” I said, as sympathetically as I could manage, even as the excitement started to build up. After almost two years of planning and replanning, chatting about the details with friends and a week of arguing with my Dad, I was finally going to go travelling! And with my Dad covering my expenses, travel and hotel, it was going to be travelling in sublime style and luxury. None of that slumming it with the dirty backpackers, getting fleas or crabs or whatever you’d get living in a hostel, sleeping with the other unwashed travellers. No, for me it would be First or Business Class, the best Hotels and nicest of restaurants…and clean, wealthy handsome...and hopefully well-endowed...men.
Hey, a girl can dream, right?