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“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice rumbled at a simmer, quiet and controlled. Maddox and Kristin had drifted into the living area, far enough to escape our conversation, but not so far that even a quiet standoff would go unnoticed for long.
“Getting a drink,” I said.
His stiff posture made him seem more formidable than usual. He took my glass and filled it with water from the tap, then plunked it on the countertop in front of me. Water sloshed over the sides and onto the stone.
“Sometimes I forget that you’re still a teenager,” he said. “Then you pull this shit and I’m reminded of just how immature you can be.”
“You don’t seem to mind my immaturity when I’m sucking your cock.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” he growled. The disapproval in his stare was sharp enough to pierce muscle and bone. I grasped my elbows, wishing I could collapse in on myself like a star, brilliant and destructive. How cute, I thought, the man who’d been missing-in-action for most of my adolescence was disappointed.
Until recently, his last memory of me had consisted of a gangly kid in braces shouting, “See you next weekend, Daddy,” from the front stoop. He had no idea how much or how little I had matured since he left, and no clue how his disappearance had stunted me. Time had stopped the day I realized he was never coming back.
My heart cracked like an egg, oozing blood-red yolk into the pit of my stomach.
“I’m just giving you a taste of what you missed,” I said. “Parenting is hard, but you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
He balled his hands on the countertop like he was struggling not to use them.
“Have you forgotten that I raised you for twelve years?” he rumbled. “I know damn well how hard it is to stay calm when your kid throws a tantrum because they want something, and you won’t give it to them. I just didn’t think I’d still be dealing with that kind of behavior at your age.”
He was only half-right. I wasn’t courting chaos because he wouldn’t fuck me, though I still wanted him to. I was shaking the tree and assessing the dropped fruit, looking for clues I’d been too distracted to notice while I was busy falling in love. Once again, I’d found myself in the position of being coddled like a child who couldn’t handle the truth. After trusting him with so much of myself, it felt like the ultimate betrayal.
I hissed, “And you think you can keep your conscience clean by fucking my mouth instead of my pussy.”
Kristin’s laughter pierced the air. My father glanced over my shoulder, no doubt to make sure she and Maddox were still out of earshot.
“Trust me, sweetheart, my conscience is anything but clean.”
“You’re a liar. Just like Mom.”
“I never lied to you, Paige.”
“A lie of omission is still a lie,” I said a little too forcefully.
The elevator dinged in the hallway, spilling the gaggle of drunken painters, art dealers, and stupidly wealthy collectors from its maw. They filed into the apartment, remarking on the incredible views and my father’s impressive collection of Baroque paintings. He shot me a stern glance before going to greet them.
I dumped the water down the sink and refilled the glass with three fingers of scotch. The caramel-colored liquor burned my throat and raised the temperature of my blood. My head felt swimmy after just a few sips.
My father stood with Michelle and her husband by the dining table, the three of them taking particular interest in the centerpiece of a serpent eating its own tail my father had recently bought from a gallery show. I avoided his gaze as I made my way to the sunken living room, swaying a little as I went. I was going to trip if I wasn’t careful. Kicking my heels off, I weaved between the clusters of guests, mentally batting away bits of their conversations.
“I heard he’s still fucking her. He has to be…”
“There’s no way he bought that at full-price?—”
“I heard it was a gift.”
“More like payment for services rendered.”
Kristin had joined one of the artist couples and a journalist for Art in America on the couch. I tried to slip past them, but halted when I felt a tug on the hem of my dress. A smug-looking guy in a black felt hat whose name I couldn’t recall had caught hold of my dress and was not-so-stealthily attempting to peek under it.
“Paige, come sit with us,” Kristin slurred.
I shot the pervert a nasty look and forcefully removed his hand. “There isn’t any room.”
“You could lay across our laps,” he said, patting his thigh. The grin on his face made my shoulders want to kiss my ears.
“I’ll pass.”
