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“Later, then.” I’d settled into a very comfortable state with Kelly: Mom and Dad didn’t know, and I was on the opposite end of the country.
“For a bad-ass FBI secret agent, you sure are a pussy.”
I sucked in a breath. “Special agent, and I’m just waiting for the right time.”
Her hands went to her hips. “I should have known. You’re ashamed of me.” She was goading me, but it worked.
The phone rang again. Kelly turned off the TV.
“Hi, Dad,” I said into the phone.
“We need to talk,” my father announced.
“Okay. I was just watching the game. I’ve got time now.”
“Your mother and I are here. We’re staying at the usual place. She’s got a dinner with her old college roommate, and you and I can get together at the restaurant here at the hotel.”
As usual, my father told me what I was going to do rather than asking.
“I might be able to make that.” I left it atmight—my little rebellion at being treated like a child.
“Good. See you at six.”
One big question remained. “What do you want to discuss?”
The online business news had run a story about Dad taking a run at Dennis Benson’s company, and as much as I disliked Dennis, I wasn’t interested in getting roped into anything further related to his takeover fight.
“See you at six.” He hung up without answering my question.
That was one trait of his I was determined to not develop. Avoiding rudeness always paid dividends.
Kelly plopped down next to me, a little too cheerily. “What’s the plan?”
“He wants to get together for dinner to talk.”
“What time?”
“Six at his hotel on K Street.” Dad was a creature of habit, and after he found a place he liked, a pattern set in.
She checked the time. “I’ll be ready. Is this a fancy place?”
“Hold on, Sugarbear. It’s just me and him.”
She faced me, and her stare could have frozen the Potomac. “We talked about this. I was going to come along the next time he came out. That was the plan.”
I reached a hand out. “Yeah, but not this time.”
She pulled back. “We agreed on this.” She got up and headed to the fridge.
We had agreed, and at the time, it had sounded like a reasonable fallback plan to the alternative of a trip to California.
“Sugarbear—”
“Don’t you Sugarbear me. We have to face them, and putting it off only makes it worse. Hi, Dad, I’d like you to meet the girl I’ve been seeing for months, but was too ashamed to tell you about.” She opened the fridge. “Sounds like a perfect way to start the conversation to me.”
I got up to follow. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”
She pulled a Diet Coke from the refrigerator and grabbed her purse. “I’m going back to my place.”
