Daddy Dearest

Chapter Seven

Melody POV

I’m sitting next to Charlie in his father’s Escalade, parked in front of our house. Normally, I would have been out of the car and halfway across my front yard already, but these days, things haven’t been so easygoing between us. There’s a tension now that hadn’t been there before and it’s keeping me inside the car like I’m tethered to it. I clear my throat and shift in my seat to make myself more comfortable.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Charlie asks before I can say anything. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel and he is staring straight ahead.

I look at his profile, then down at my hands. He really is very handsome, with this square jaw and high cheekbones. I wish I felt the same way for him as he does for me. "Yeah, of course. I always have a great time with your family. I love hanging out with you guys."

His fingers appear to tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He's still not looking at me. "Listen, Mel, I need to talk to you about something. It's been weighing on my mind for a while now..."

This time, I'm the one who holds my breath and everything in me clenches up. He’s about to tell me he’s in love with me or something. I know he is. This sensation has been an unwanted tag-along whenever he and I were alone for months now. The second no one else is around, I become hyper-aware that Charlie is suddenly standing a little too close to me or he’s touching me a lot more or his voice changes, so that it’s deeper and almost whispery, as though it were meant for my ears alone.

Charlie and I have been friends since we were in pre-school. We’ve been almost inseparable since then. Our parents have stories of us clinging to each other and wailing, when it came time for us to go to our own homes. We held hands as we walked around the hallways of our schools. The nuns and school administrators had to talk to our parents more than once that our attachment to each other was unusual and unhealthy.

But we were just so much alike and got along so well that we didn’t need anyone else. I had a bond with Charlie that was tighter than he had with his own twin. Lottie was even resentful and jealous of me until we started including her in everything.

"What is it?" I ask, even though my body is heavy with dread and I'm almost afraid to take a breath for fear of upsetting the status quo.

He shakes his head and doesn't say anything for a while, so I start to wonder if maybe he's changed his mind and the tension in my stomach eases a little. Just as I am reaching for the car door, he expels a mouthful of air and blurts out, "Do you have a crush on my dad?"

Wow, that's unexpected. I feel all at once like a bucket of ice has been upended over my head, while I've got a blow-dryer on high heat blasting the side of my face. My insides have been emptied with a dirty trowel and replaced with wet spaghetti. I want to throw up. I want to slap Charlie and scream in his face. I never want to see him again.

Somehow, I manage to keep my cool and hopefully, my emotions off my face. "That's nasty, Charlie. Why would you say that?" I sound appropriately disturbed, but not hysterical. Point for me.

He shrugs, looking slightly alarmed and embarrassed, as though he just realized he may have just stuck his foot in his mouth. "I don't know... It's just the way you look at him sometimes, like he's so great or whatever—and when you two talk about his books. It's just kind of gross. Girls and teachers at school look at him like that, like he's so hot and brilliant. It's just... really gross."

I sigh a little bit in relief. "Charlie, that's because your dad is brilliant. He's a really wonderful writer. You know I want to be a writer myself, so I look up to your dad. I don't know about the way other people look at him, but it's not like I want to bone him or anything." I grab his arm and give it a squeeze. "Dude, he's practically my dad."

The worry on his face eases a little and he runs a hand through his blond hair. “I’m sorry, Mel, that was stupid… I’m just really tired of everyone thinking he’s the s**t. It’s kind of annoying.” He sits back against the car seat, closes his eyes, and sighs, shaking his head a little against the headrest. “Just imagine being the son of Mr. Perfect. ‘You’re so lucky he’s your dad’,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice.

I frown. “Do people really say that? That is kind of gross.” I look at his profile, at the backpack between my feet, then at my house through the car’s side window. “Hey, if you don’t have any urgent chores or whatever, do you want to hang out here for a bit? Nancy’s car isn’t in the driveway. She’s probably at the Home Depot or something. You can keep me company.”

Charlie appears to perk up at this and springs up from his seat, turning to face me. “I’m supposed to be helping my mother with her new gardening project, but she’ll probably just set aside the heavy lifting for me to do later, anyway. I don’t know why she just won’t hire a contractor. It’s not like they don’t have the money.”

I don’t know how much Charlie knows about my money situation, but my stepmother has taught me from when I was a little girl never to talk about our finances to anyone, not even close friends, because it’s rude to talk about money, especially if you have a lot and other people might not. “I think your mom just doesn’t want you sitting around on your butt. Your brawn might as well be good for something, Popeye. Nancy never hires anybody ever, either. She’s become Ms. Fix-it. She’s a carpenter, plumber, and gardener all-in-one.”

“These Rosie the Riveter-types, I tell ya,” he says jokingly. “They think they can do everything a man can do.”

I snort. “You can’t even kill a spider, sport. You get Lottie to do it for you.” As he gets out of the car, I say, “I’ll tell you what you can do for me, big man, you can open the door for me and carry my bag…”

***

Charlie and I prepare ourselves some sandwiches, grab a few Cokes which we put in a cooler, and take the two giant bags of Cheetos and potato chips in the cupboard, which we haul into the backyard, so we can have a little picnic next to our pool. It’s been a while since he and I swam in our pool together by ourselves.

Usually, we swim in their family pool with his siblings or a bunch of friends. I texted Nancy to tell her I’m home with Charlie and she asked if she should bring us some lunch. I said no because we had made some for ourselves. Nancy trusts Charlie, so she doesn’t make a big deal of me being home alone with a boy in a swimming pool.

I put on a blue super unsexy one-piece swimsuit. I don’t really like two-piece swimsuits because I’m weird about showing my stomach to anyone, but I especially didn’t want to wear anything too revealing around Charlie. I’m already self-conscious enough, ever since I’ve become convinced that he’s secretly in love with me. I’m not being conceited or anything. It’s true. It’s not my imagination. He’s become kind of clingy and overly solicitous with me these past few months. I just know that any day now, he’s going to tell me he’s in love with me and everything is going to change and he’s going to ruin everything and I can’t help but be secretly mad at him in advance for it.

With my sunglasses on, I get on a floatie the shape of a giant pink donut from the Simpsons with my arms and legs hanging outside, lazing on the water. Charlie’s floatie is a blue lounger with armrests that has a cup holder for his can of Coke. He has sunblock smeared on his nose and his arms are along his sides. He is also wearing sunglasses, so I can’t tell if he’s got his eyes closed or not, but he hasn’t said anything in a while. Is he sleeping? I splash some water on his leg, but he doesn’t move. Through the Bluetooth speakers connected to my phone, on the table next to our food, “Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra is playing. Charlie and I like older music.

Mr. Davenport was two years old when the song was first released.

I flick Charlie with some water again and this time, he retaliates, using his two hands to scoop up ammo to fling at me. I shriek. “You jerk! No fair.” I take off my sunglasses and wipe the water off my face.

He laughs. “You’re the jerk. I was taking a nap.”

I threaten to splash him back, but he’s obviously ready this time, so I plead cease fire. I don’t really feel like getting my hair wet at the moment. He smirks at me and eases himself back on his lounger. After a few minutes of peace, I tell him, “I hear Audrey Rose wants you to take her to Homecoming this year. You know her best friend Lindsey Morales? Well, she’s in my third period class and she told Tiffany Chen loudly enough so that I would be sure to hear. I think I’m supposed to pass it along to you.”

Charlie raises his sunglasses and gives me a look. “Are you kidding me? I’m not willing to get my ass kicked by her roid-rage boyfriend. She’s been with Steve Suarez since the ninth grade.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously you haven’t been paying attention to her social media. Hell-O. They broke up a month ago? Steve had a fling during his family vacation in Spain over summer break and Audrey couldn’t forgive him. First her relationship status was ‘It’s complicated’ for, like, weeks, but she’s been single for a month now.”

Charlie’s blond brows meet together in the middle of his forehead in slopes. “Having heard all of that, I somehow feel like I lost some IQ points.” He shakes his head as though to clear his thoughts. “Audrey Rose wants me to ask her to the Homecoming dance?”

“Are you planning on asking someone else?” I ask with some hesitation. Damn it, why did I bring this up, anyway? Ugh, probably because I don’t know what to talk about with Charlie these days. All our conversations used to flow so easily, but now, it’s… like, we have to look for things to talk about.

“Uh… I haven’t really thought about it…” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s a month away, Mel. Anyway, we could just go together, right? We went together last year. Unless you’re thinking of going with someone else…”

“I could be! I can’t just be your last-minute date all the time.” Last year, Charlie had a girlfriend named Stephanie Rivers whom he started dating in the second half of tenth grade. They were supposed to go to the Homecoming dance together in our junior year, but they broke up the week before. Charlie already had tickets and since I didn’t have a date because I had been planning on going with a group of girls, I ended up going with him, instead. Stephanie Rivers did not like that at all.

One of the reasons they broke up was Stephanie’s possessiveness. She hated that Charlie’s closest friend was a girl, namely me. Charlie liked her a lot—she’s pretty, smart, and funny—but she basically demanded that he dropped me for her. Anyone who understands Charlie even a little bit knows you never try to force his hand on anything. Goodbye, Stephanie.

So then Stephanie started telling everyone at school that I’m a ho and was after Charlie all this time, but they just kind of laughed at her because everyone knows Charlie and I have been a duo and BFF since the beginning of time. All of his other former girlfriends were cool with that. Me, I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I don’t know if he’d be cool with Charlie or not. Not that I’d care. I wouldn’t want to date a guy who had a problem with me being friends with Charlie.

“Are you thinking of going with someone this year?” he asks casually, as if he didn’t care about the answer at all. “I didn’t even know you were interested in anybody.”

The current song on the speakers is “Shooting Star” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. It was released in 1975, three years before Mr. Davenport was born.

“Umm...” I twirl a lock of my hair around my finger. I’m a little annoyed with Charlie because I feel like he’s trying to trap me with some kind of “gotcha” game. I stop fiddling with my hair and glare at him. “Why do you care?"

I'm tempted to say "Alex Chambers" because he's head boy and basically the BMOC. Thus, the least likely guy I'd go to any dance with.

He scowls at me. “Because I want you to have fun? This is our senior year, spazz. Don’t tell me you’re planning on going with your fellow wallflowers again.”

Outside of the Davenport twins, I am friends with four girls at school, two of whom are named after flowers: Rose and Violet. They are very shy girls and like me, have never had boyfriends because they have strict parents. Violet’s dad is a homicide detective and doesn’t allow her to date. Rose has a bad stutter, which only gets worse when she talks to boys, and an unfortunate tendency to turn tomato-red when nervous. The two other girls, Melina and Janice, are super-focused on their studies and devoted to the Bible. I know the people at school whisper about us and call us the Novitiates behind our backs. I’ve heard of rumors about guys who plan to tag at least one of us by the end of the school year. The main prize is Violet because she’s the prettiest and most demure--i. e. the girliest. She looks like a Disney princess with her big green eyes, pale skin, and bright red hair.

I honestly have zero desire to date anyone at our school, especially because most of the guys our age are troglodyte pigs. I don’t understand why we’re being targeted for being virgins when we’re in high school and attending a Catholic one at that. It shouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility that five Catholic girls under the age of eighteen are virgins—aren’t there other girls at school who are? Charlotte thinks I’m the most naïve turnip that has ever fallen out of a truck.

Look, I know all about s****l desires. It’s not like I watched “Game of Thrones” and never felt a stirring in my loins or anything. Jamie Lannister is supposed to be evil, but he is still hotter than the devil. And then there’s Mr. Davenport, who’s been the star of my R-rated fantasies, lately approaching NC-17. Yikes. Just thinking about him these days makes my n*****s hard and causes this heavy tugging of heat below my navel. I used to just dream about us kissing, but the last one I had about him went a little further than that. I really don’t know how I was able to face him this morning.

I look at my best friend and sigh. If he really does have a crush on me, I shouldn’t be encouraging him at all because I don’t feel the same. “Why are you worrying so much about Homecoming, anyway? It’s so lame. Have you forgotten what else is coming up?”

“What?”

“Ugh, Charlie, Horrorcon! We haven’t even gotten plane tickets yet. I hope your dad doesn’t insist we drive up again like last year.”

He palms the back of his neck, a habit he shares with his dad, a sure sign that he’s anxious about something. “I’m trying to convince my parents to let us go on our own this year. Dad’s pretty slammed this year, so maybe he won’t tag along. He’d probably make Lottie go with us, though.”

I try to tamp down on the disappointment I feel upon hearing this so that it doesn’t show on my face. I’ve been really looking forward to Horrorcon this year because Mr. Davenport has accompanied us every year we've gone and I’ve treasured the times we spent together standing in line for hours to get into panels and walking around the city of San Francisco. Mr. Davenport’s company made it all worthwhile. Now that I know he might not be coming, half of my excitement for the convention has fizzled.

“But Lottie doesn’t even like cons or horror movies. She’ll just complain the whole time!” I groan.

Charlie shrugs. “Mike Peters and Sarah Chang would want to go. Maybe Justin Evans, too, but I’m not sure about their money situation. If we can get a whole group to go, maybe my folks will loosen up a little bit.”

I bite my lip. Three of our friends are scholarship students. Justin’s mom is a nurse at our school and his matriculation is one of the benefits of her working there. The Davenports work at the school, but they also have plenty of money on their own. Between me and Charlie, we could afford to spring for convention and plane tickets, plus hotel expenses, for our three friends, but I doubt Nancy would easily fork over the dough. She would see it as unnecessary extravagance and think I’m just showing off to my friends. Besides, I’m not one hundred percent on board with this group excursion idea because I’m still hoping we can instead get Mr. Davenport to take us.

Later that night, I’m in my room, getting ready for bed when Nancy comes in to check in with me and say good night. She’d gone out to dinner and a movie with a girlfriend, so she was still wearing makeup and going-out clothes. With her dressed up, I’m struck by how pretty and young she is and yet she’s stuck taking care of a stepdaughter who is only thirteen years younger than she is.

I want to tell her about my worries regarding Charlie, but I don't want her to start getting uncomfortable about sending me to the Davenports for sleepovers, so I say nothing. Already, she worries that people might think she's a little too permissive with me.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says, sitting on my bed and giving me a side hug. “How was your weekend with the Davenports?”

“Good,” I tell her with a yawn. “Did you meet any boys while you were out?”

She laughs and slaps me playfully on the arm. “Very funny. I hope you ate something recognizably healthy for dinner and didn’t just walk down to Taco Bell again.”

“Heh.” I brushed my teeth firmly and gargled with mouthwash. There won’t be evidence of Taco Bell on my breath. “I can promise you that my dinner had tomatoes and lettuce on it.”

My stepmother rolls her eyes. “Yeah. And shredded cheese as well as so-called ground beef in taco shells made of Doritos. I know your tricks.” She leans over to kiss the top of my head and tells me to go to sleep. “No more reading on your phone. You’ll ruin your eyes.”

She knows me too well. One of my favorite things to read before bedtime is the subreddit #Nosleep, which is full of horror stories. “All right, all right.” I pull out my phone from under the covers and put it on my nightstand. “Good night, Nancy.”

She walks over to the door and just before turning off the light, she says, “Good night, Melody.”