Problem For Daddy (Please Me, Daddy 6)

1

LIZA

I can’t even believe I’m in a conversation with my father to where he’s telling me I can’t go on an outing with my friends, and yet, it’s Friday night. I suppose it’s another night of being stuck at this heck of a home. It’s always been apparent how he’s not fond of my friends, and frankly, he never will be. I gave up on that a long time ago.

Now that mom has been gone for almost a year, the rules have significantly changed in the house. I wouldn’t even say I like it here anymore; I mean, I’m packing my things up as we speak. I’m not taking another night of his stupid rules. My father must’ve thought I wouldn’t pick my freedom and friends over the safety of his roof, but he’s wrong.

I’m eighteen, wild, and free. I have nothing to worry about, right? I find myself pretty, as I’m a brunette, blessed with light green eyes. I work out, and I’m employed by my father as I assist with administrative tasks; well, I’m guessing that could all change now that I won’t be living here.

“Who will house you in such short notice?” My father dares to ask me as if there’s not the slightest hope someone can help. I have no idea where I’m going, so I opt not to answer him. I know I’ll find my way somewhere safe. I just need out of here. It’s damn well time.

“You have no clue what life is like out there. You’re a child, you should know you are.” He huffs at me, shakes his head, and walks out of my room.

His footsteps lead to his office down the hall. I hate the fact my father has a client over right now. I’m not trying to argue with him, especially in front of some stranger that I could care less to entertain with this annoyance tonight.

My father is a stockbroker, so that means meetings galore when it comes to clients. Though, most of his meetings take place virtually now, but not today apparently. Today, he’s invited a client over and to be honest, I’m not sure why he chose to pick a fight with me now of all times.

I mean, we had started arguing before his client arrived, but it had boiled over the moment the doorbell sounded. You would’ve thought that would have been enough to get me out for a night, but no, it wasn’t; it never is.

I just want to grab my things, and get the hell out of here for good. I have yet to call a single friend, but I’m sure someone will pull through for me, at least for one night. I only need the night to figure out my next steps here.

I zip up my suitcase, and go to grab my phone off the bed.

It doesn’t take more than a few calls to annoyingly realize my father is right. No one is here to help me. Not a single friend has answered my call, or even responded to as little as a damn text.

Some friends of mine…

Tears uncontrollably fill my eyes; I hate to admit my father is right. He will surely use this to his advantage in our next argument, which can only be right around the corner knowing him.

I don’t have much options when it comes to a place to stay. I cannot, and will not call my mother; she left me here and took off with her fling last August. It’s been almost a year now, and I don’t even know what state she’s in, let alone what country. I can’t depend on her— she’s already proven that more often than I’d like to admit.

‘Sunny Cali, where you have fun in the sun with no troubles’; yeah, what a lie that turned out to be. Living in California has it’s perks as you’d imagine, though, I just never really adjusted to life here. We’re only in this place because of my mother and ironically enough, she’s not even here… so why are we? My father has expressed plenty of times how he has no intentions to move since mother left. This is yet another reason why I need to get the hell out of here.

As I hear my father’s door open, I quickly wipe my tears away, ridding the evidence of my frustration. I don’t need him seeing me like this before he begins his lecture, which I’m entirely expecting at this point.

“So, who’s it going to be? Who’s the lucky one taking you in tonight?” My father asks, reaching the doorway of my room.

“I have yet to decide,” I answer, crossing my arms against my chest, but he knows me all too well.

“Let me guess, you have nowhere to go?” He chuckles, clearly getting a kick out of proving me wrong. Sometimes, I truly question why my father decided to have a kid in the first place. He can be the absolute worst at times; almost as if he could care less I’m his daughter to begin with.

Just as I take in a breath to respond, I notice my father’s client is standing a few feet back from him. I catch a glimpse of his eyes; his dark stare gives me a sense of uncertainty as to what’s going on here.

I bring my attention back to my father; he looks as if he knows something I don’t.

“What?” I snap at my father, glaring at him. I hate the feeling of being left out, and right now, I get the feeling something is going on that very well concerns me.

He seems to find this funny, but I’m sure he’s the only one getting kicks from this.