Daddy Dearest

Chapter Nine

Melody POV

I'm not sure what I'm still doing here. I'd promised Lottie I'd come over after school to help her with her social studies homework, but I didn't mean to stay for dinner. I told myself I had to leave before Mr. D got home. But then Mrs. Davenport went into Lottie's room where she and I were studying and asked if I wanted to stay for dinner. She wasn't even surprised that I was there. I told her I'd have to check with Nancy, but God must have been playing a prank on me because just then, I got a text from her saying she was out with friends and would I mind fending for myself tonight? It's rare that Nancy leaves the house to just be social with people, so I told her I was fine. I accepted Mrs. Davenport's invitation to dinner.

"Oh boy, you're in luck," says Lottie sarcastically. "Monday is Chicken Pesto Pasta Night."

"What happened to Pot Roast Monday? I love your mom's pot roast."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Mum thinks we eat too much red meat, so she's taking the pot roast out of circulation for a while."

"Bummer."

Lottie is not in the mood to discuss Human Geography. Instead we've been talking about the massive bouquet of flowers I received at school today. How weird was that? I can't think of anyone who would send me something so ridiculous. For her birthday, Katy Petrie received one of those gigantic, human-sized teddy bears during fourth period pre-calculus and it was delivered while Sister Mary Clarence, one of the behavioral monitors, was sitting in. Even though it wasn't her fault, Katy was punished with two Saturday detentions for disrupting class. I'm just saying that I'm not the kind of girl that this sort of thing happened to.

"It was considerate for the person who sent you flowers to have them delivered to the front office instead of class," Lottie says, as though she read my mind. "I mean, can you imagine getting Saturday detention for such hideous flowers?"

I've never had a detention in my life. It comes with the territory of being known as the "good girl." Even when I do something remotely naughty, I get a pass because it's "out of character" for me and it gets treated as a one-off. I sure as hell don't need detention over some creepy flowers.

And they were very creepy flowers. When I first saw them at the office and Mrs. Thompson told me they were for me, I couldn't believe it. First of all, I'd never gotten flowers from a guy before. Secondly, there was just something really wrong about how the flowers were put together. The colors were mismatched and the mingling odors reminded me of an old lady's perfume, that flowery, musky kind that stays with you all day and clings to your clothes long after the old lady has gone away. When I read the card attached, I completely lost it. Who the hell would send me something like this?

"I wouldn't even know anyone in detention," I scoff, pushing the flowers from my mind. Just picturing them is giving me the creeps. "Now what can you tell me about the origins of the Incas?"

Lottie sticks her tongue out at me. "Something about the Boring Strait."

I swat her playfully. "Bering Strait, you bimbo."

"Whatever, I get the gist of it," she says huffily, pushing her blond hair out of her face. "What did you do with the creepy flowers? Honestly, they looked like they were meant for a funeral in a bordello."

I laugh in surprise. She's totally right. That was my visceral reaction to them. I'm not nuts. "I gave them to your dad."

Her eyes light up with wicked delight. "Oh you did not, you outrageous trollop!" She gives my shoulder a shake. "You are such a liar, Lolita!"

I get up from the floor and flop across her bed on my stomach, hugging her stuffed penguin Sam. "I'm not lying. I gave them to your dad, for real. Ask him."

She gets up, too, and sits on the bed. She picks up a pillow to hit me on the head. "You little homewrecker. Did you, really? Oh my God, I do not believe you. You don't have the guts."

I sit up and shoot her a smug look. It's not often I get one over on Lottie. "I'm telling you, ask him."

My best friend covers her face with a pillow and shrieks with laughter, laughing so hard that she would have fallen off the bed had I not caught her arm. "Oh, Melody." She removes the pillow from her face and her cheeks are wet with tears. "So good. Oh man, I would have paid good money to have seen his face when you gave them to him."

I lift one shoulder in a halfway shrug. All right, so I'm exaggerating. I didn't really give the flowers to Mr. Davenport. I just passed them off to him and he took them good-naturedly. I figured he'd give them to the missus or toss them away for me. He kind of reacted weird when he read the poem on the card attached to the flowers. Like it affected him in some way or something, but I couldn't tell how.

I looked it up on my phone later. It was by Pablo Neruda, a Chilean poet who wrote some very passionate and sexy odes about romantic love and the corporeal expression of it.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Gaaah, even a virgin like me knows what that means. Spring means growth and flowers blooming, so the poet wants to make his lover "bloom." Gross. I showed the poem to Lottie and she thought it was gross, too.

"Ugh," she'd said. "Maybe it wasn't a student or someone our age who sent you that. Yuck, what if it was an old person? Like that old creepy groundskeeper who was fired last year because he was caught spying in the ladies' room?"

I shudder in remembrance. "What age do you consider old? Like your dad?"

She squints and points at me. "Stop it, Mel. My dad is too old for you and I don't want you to become my step-mom. Besides, Waverly would kill you both."

I snort in disagreement. "No way. Your mom is a lady. She would quietly ask him for a divorce, leave with her head held high, and move back to Ireland with Noah and Maddie. Or maybe eat, pray, and love herself all over the world like all privileged white women."

Lottie chuckled. "You're delusional if you think that. My mum is secretly a Celtic warrior princess. She'd rather see my dad dead than let anyone else have him."

I scrunch up my nose in disbelief. "Whaaat? That's nuts."

"When Charlie and I were kids and dad was kind of a big deal in Hollywood because everyone wanted to make movies out of his books, he gained a couple of lady stalkers. There was this one particular woman who was really persistent about meeting him and somehow found out our address, so she would sit in her car all day and wait for dad to come out. Mum was pregnant with Noah at the time and she just about had it with this lady. Dad never came out anyway because he'd lock himself in his office for several hours at a time to write. One day, mum just went outside, dragged the lady out of the car, and told her that if she ever came back again, mum would set her car on fire with her in it."

I feel my eyes widen and realize the timeline coincides with my mom's death. This is roughly around the same time Mr. Davenport wrote his seminal book that won all sorts of accolades. I always suspected it was based on my mother. "Your mom is tough like Claire from Outlander."

"You better believe it. Now stop fantasizing about my dad because it's almost dinner time and I don't want you gawking at him like a slack jawed yokel."

I gasp in dismay. "Oh my God, is it that obvious?"

Lottie laughs and socks me on the arm. "No. I'm just messing with you, you dope. Serves you right. My dad is super oblivious to everything."

Not that oblivious. I'm pretty sure Mr. D knows I have a crush on him. We've had a few awkward moments lately when I've been super aware of him as a man and not just a friend's dad. That night in the kitchen, when I splashed water on myself and pretty much gave him a wet t-shirt show, I saw that it gave him an erection. And it was... scary big even through his trousers. Yikes, what do I even do with that?

"Umm, Charlie said something about it," I mumble, utterly humiliated.

"No way. What did he say?"

It seems kind of unfair for me to be talking about Charlie behind his back, but it's not like I'm about to reveal something bad. "He asked if I was crushing on your dad because I fan-wank over his books or something."

Lottie snorts and laughs. "Oh, come on, you're not wanking off to dad because of his beautiful prose. It's his soulful blue eyes and luscious red curls. He's been worrying about balding, by the way. So not hot. Grandpa started losing his hair at fifty, so he's freaking out and constantly checking out his hairline in the mirror."

I give her a shove. "Your dad is far away from fifty. He's what, forty-two?"

"Do you realize that if you marry my dad, you'd only be fifty when he's seventy-five? Gross. You'd be changing his diapers when you should be out, looking for a toy-boy and spending your dad's money."

I sigh. Lottie runs her mouth off without thinking sometimes. "You realize Nancy married my dad and he was twice her age, right? It's not a big deal."

Lottie puts her hand over her mouth, her green eyes widening with horror. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I can be a real jerk, Mel."

"No, it's okay." I wave off her apology. I needed to hear some real talk anyway because my stupid crush is getting out of control, to the point that Mr. Davenport is all I think about these days. He even invades my dreams. In my dreams, I call him Ben...

"And about Charlie..." Lottie says uneasily. "He's just jealous that you're paying attention to any male other than him, so he suspects every guy you talk to. I think the only boys you're allowed to drool over at this point are the guys from BTS."

I roll my eyes. "Why, because I'll never meet them?"

Lottie's eyes light up and a cat-ate-the-canary smile stretched her full lips. "They have a concert in San Fran next March. Wanna go?"

"How do you know?"

Lottie makes a tsk sound. "Girl, please. I follow their official fan page on f*******:, plus Lindsay Park's dad knows their US PR guy."

Lindsay Park's dad knows everybody. He's a big-shot Hollywood producer, which is why Lindsay is unbearable. His last movie, a US and South Korean collaboration, took home twelve Oscars this year, including Best Film. "Are you still friends with Lindsay? I thought you two had a falling out because you posted that video of her shaking her ass in Mike Lim's face on Tik-Tok and wouldn't take it down."

"Water under the bridge." She lifts an eyebrow. "Didn't you have a crush on Mike Lim in the eight grade, but got really mad at him because you overheard him telling Justin Daniels that you have no boobs?"

I cross my arms protectively over the aforementioned boobs. I have boobs a plenty now, as Mr. D saw for himself over the weekend. "Ugh, Mike Lim is a douchebag. I can't believe Steve Mason is best friends with him. Steve is such a decent guy."

Lottie looks at me with googly eyes. If she were an anime character, they would have turned into hearts. "Steve is so great. We're meeting for coffee tomorrow after school. He needs help with his pre-calculus homework."

I frown at this. Steve Mason is a smart guy. He doesn't need help with math, least of all from Lottie. She got a C in Trig last year. Huh. Maybe Steve does like her back and may ask her to the homecoming dance. "Schweet." I slap her palm in a high five. "You're finally getting somewhere with that dude."

Lottie's mouth curls up in a smirk. "I know, right? It only took two years."

The door opens and Lottie's dad pokes his gorgeous head in. He is freshly showered, since his hair is still wet, and he's changed out of his work clothes into a dark blue Henley shirt and khaki slacks. For a brief moment, our gazes meet and hold. I inhale and forget to exhale.

"Dad! Why didn't you knock first? We could have been talking about someone's unplanned pregnancy or something."

He looks away from me and gives his daughter a stern glare. "That is not a good joke. Wash up, girls, then get downstairs. Dinner in five minutes."

I release the breath I've been holding and nearly pass out. "I have to stop coming over. Your dad is driving me crazy."

"Eww, gross," Lottie says with a grimace. "Girl, you should get some relief or something. All your pent-up s****l desires and hormones are spilling over and for some reason, you're focusing on my father. Daddy issues much?"

I sigh, taking no offense. "Yeah, most likely. I probably need a therapist. I'll have Nancy look for one."

"Atta girl! Or just get a boyfriend. If you don't want my brother, there's always Alex Chambers. He's had a boner for you since the tenth grade."

I roll my eyes. "Do you realize that none of the conversations we've ever had in the history of our friendship would pass the Bechdel Test? All we do is talk about boys!"

"So what? We're teenage girls. Are we going to talk about politics or my dad's books, maybe? I can honestly tell you I've never read any of them."

"Oh my God." I groan and cover my face. "I just remembered that I sneezed right on him today because I was allergic to those hideous flowers."

"Awesome." Lottie guffaws and holds up her hand for a high five.

Even though I rarely leave anyone hanging on a high five, this time I do. I smirk and she drops her hand with a scowl.

We both go to the bathroom to make ourselves presentable. I wash my hands, make sure my face is not oily, brush my air, and reapply my lip gloss, which is kind of dumb since I'm about to eat dinner. I'm still in my school uniform because I forgot to bring a change of clothes today. Ugh, I look like a child.

My best friend gives me the side-eye in the mirror. "You better watch out or Charlie is going to think you prettified yourself for him."

I place my hands on my hips and face her. "Wait, why did you bring up Alex Chambers?"

Alex Chambers is probably on every girl's top three list of the hottest guys in school. He's tall and athletic with dreamy hazel eyes and close-cropped, curly strawberry-blond hair. When he smiles, the dark clouds part and the sun's glorious rays break through.

Originally from England, he has a slightly posh accent and an air of confidence about him as though he were descended from dukes and earls. Not to say that he is a stuck-up asshole because he's actually mad decent, but he just has an elegant bearing and the nuns always praise him for his eloquence and posture. Kids at school call him Mr. Fantastic. He is currently head boy of our senior class and Tessie Kwon is head girl. A lot of people are saying he's going back to the UK next year because he's going to be attending Cambridge since he'll be a legacy student.

He's filthy rich, too. Both of his parents are successful investment bankers and they have a huge house in Sherman Oaks. He can have any girl in school with the snap of his fingers, but for some reason, he's been after me since the tenth grade.

Lottie blinks and gives me an innocent smile. "Oh, nothing. Never mind. It's not like you'd be interested, since you're all up in my dad's ass right now."

I grimace at the image. "No, thank you. I don't do asses. Now give. What about Alex Chambers?"

"Oh man, you better bone up on that. Middle-aged dudes have tried everything under the sun, so they're totally kinky and way into butt stuff."

I put my hands on her shoulders and threaten to strangle her. "Why did you bring up Alex Chambers, Charlotte?"

She pushes me lightly. "Okay, okay. Get away from me, you psycho. Tiffany Goldman told me Alex is planning to ask you to the dance and it's going to be a no-holds barred attack, so you should probably say yes."

I bite my lower lip. "You don't think he sent the flowers, do you?"

Lottie looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Of course not! He's too classy for that. With him, it'll probably be a single white rose you'll find in your desk at homeroom with a rolled up parchment attached to it that says, 'Your demure beauty brings me to tears and inspires me to ask my butler to write a poem for you' in a neat, golden scrawl."

I laugh out loud. "He's not that bad. Oh my God, what am I going to do if he asks?"

Suddenly, the door bursts open behind me and Charlie walks in. "Who's asking what?"

His twin slaps his shoulder. Hard. "You can't just barge in here. What is it with the men in this house and not knowing how to knock? Ugh! For all you knew, Melody could have been taking a huge dump."

Charlie looks at me and I shrug. "It's true. I hold it in all day and wait till I get to your house, so I can s**t a buttload in your toilet."

My boy best friend pretends he's about to throw up. "You're disgusting. But I bet Lottie takes bigger dumps. How many times has dad had to call in a plumber just this year alone?" He puts a finger on the cleft of his chin and pretends to think about it.

"Shut up, nerd," Lottie snarls. "Get out of here."

Charlie grabs her around the neck and pushes her head to his chest so he could rub his knuckles against her scalp. Lottie fights back like a Valkyrie. Her twin lets her go, laughing.

Meanwhile, I had retreated to the bathtub during the scuffle because I didn't want to get elbowed in the eye. Again.

"Ugh, you guys are both terrible!" I scream.

Charlie claps his hands twice. "Come on, you trollops, it's feeding time!"