"That is very different," my father starts. "One, it was his job." I glare at him. "I mean, he had no choice.” He points at me. “You had a choice."
"And I chose my dream job," I say. "I don’t know why you are so upset about it."
"I’m not upset about it," my father explains. "I’m disappointed you didn’t talk to me beforehand."
"Disappointed is worse than you being upset." I shake my head. "Did it ever occur to you that I needed to do this for myself?" I ask, and he doesn’t say anything. "I needed to prove to myself that I could survive without the safety net."
"There is nothing wrong with having a safety net," my father says. "I’m upset you didn’t come to me and talk about it."
"Why do you think that I did that?" I ask him and take a deep breath. "Because you are you, and you would have probably gotten on the phone and done a whole background check of the company before I even left the house."
"There is nothing wrong with that!” he shouts. "I don’t want you or anyone who I love to be taken advantage of." He slaps the counter. "Or used as a pawn."
"Wow! So you don’t think I got this job because I merited it?" I look down and shake my head. "You think I got this job because they wanted to get to you?"
He doesn’t say anything because the front door opens, and I hear my grandparents announce that they are here. My father and I just stare at each other, and nothing gets resolved. It just makes me angrier with him. My grandfather comes over and takes me in his arms. "How’s my independent girl?" he says. "Is your father giving you a hard time?"
"My father is pigheaded," I mumble.
"He gets that from your grandmother," he says, making me laugh. "I’ll talk to him."
"No." I shake my head. "Nothing anyone says is going to change his mind."
"Frances Grant," he says, and I look at him. "You don’t see this now, but one day, you will. You may be in your twenties, but to your father, you will always be that little girl he needs to protect." I don’t say anything to him and just nod my head. When I look over, my father is outside with my mother. She’s telling him something, and from the looks of it, she is not happy. The caterers are setting up all the tables around them, trying not to eavesdrop.
I don’t get a chance to find out what it is when more people come in. Cooper is next with Erika and the kids. Followed by Michael and Jillian, his son on his hip. I’m sitting at one of the tables with Erika and Jillian.
"Can someone tell me how a family lunch ends up being fifty people?" Alex mumbles when she stumbles in with Jillian’s sister, Julia, beside her. The two of them have become close ever since they met and take the two empty seats.
"Just when I think I’ve met all of the family members," Julia says. "More come out."
"It’s like Gremlins," Vivienne says. "Don’t feed us after midnight."
We all laugh. "So how are you enjoying Dallas?" Jillian asks me.
"It’s okay from what I’ve seen." I shrug. "I’ve been busy at work."
"Forget about work," Julia says. "Have you started dating?"
"Yes," Alex agrees, pointing at me. "That."
"No." I shake my head.
"What?" Erika shrieks. "Why not?"
"Because I suffer from something called big-dick syndrome," I say, making everyone laugh. "The minute they find out I’m independent and can live without them, it’s like I take away their man card,” I groan. "The men are always trying to prove how powerful they are."
"Or are you too busy trying not to catch feelings?" Vivienne looks at me. "It’s easier to bang without getting to know them." My heart starts to speed up when she questions me. I’ve never thought about it like that.
"What if all I want is to bang?" I look down at my hands, my head spinning from this conversation. "What if I’m too busy trying to build a career, and all I need is to scratch the itch?"
"What if you actually meet someone who can scratch the itch and be there to support you?" Vivienne counters, and my mouth goes dry.
"Well, if there is such a man out there," I huff, "I haven’t met him."
"You aren’t even trying." Alex laughs. "You go out with fuck boys because you know that is what they are." I don’t get a chance to respond because one of the kids falls down, and everyone rushes to see which one it is.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I pick it up to see it’s Richard. For the past week, I’ve been trying to establish relationships with the sports agents out there. I have called all of them and introduced myself. I’ve been trying to pitch the show to all of them, in case they have clients who would be a good fit. Of course, I reached out to Richard because he had a client who would be perfect for us in every single way.