Baby for the Bosshole

“Emmett! You didn’t tell me you were going to be here,” comes Dad’s loud voice.

Fuck!

I swivel around fast. “What are you doing here?”

“Brunch, of course. Like any normal person.”

He’s not alone. He’s with a scantily dressed blonde, who I hope to God is legal. At least he’s in a button-down shirt and slacks.

He smiles at Amy. “Hi. Emily, right?”

“It’s Amy,” she says thinly.

Mac’s eyes go flinty, like he’s the Terminator eyeing a loud-mouthed punk.

“Right,” Dad says. If you asked him again what her name is, he’d say “Amelia” or some such.

“So. When’s the baby due?” He sticks his neck out like a lemur scouting for food. “You aren’t showing.”

“And she won’t for a while,” I say. “It’s just the first trimester.”

“I heard from Joey about the ceremony. I’m a busy man, but I’ll see what I can do.”

It’s all I can do to not throw my cold water at the smarmy smile. He thinks he’s so clever, bringing that up now. Joey probably whined about the difficulty he’s having with the invitation, so Dad’s going to play dirty.

He then turns to Amy’s dad like he’s just noticed him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. You are…?”

“Mac Sand. Amy’s father.”

“Oh.” Dad’s shock is so exaggerated, it’s borderline ridiculous. “I’m Ted Lasker. Emmett’s dad.” He extends his hand.

Mac smiles, half stands and pumps Dad’s hand.

Dad winces. “Ow, ow! That’s some grip.”

Thank you, Mac. Can you be my father?

Mac’s mouth is smiling, but his eyes aren’t.

“I guess we’ll see more of each other at the wedding,” Dad says.

“If Joey hasn’t told you already, you aren’t invited,” I say.

“What?” Dad lets out a my-son-is-such-a-comedian laugh. “Of course I’m invited. I’m your dad! And granddad to Emmy’s baby.”

Joey must’ve told Dad if he wants to make a personal appeal, he should use the other person’s name. Too bad it doesn’t work if you use the wrong name.

Amy places a soothing hand on her father’s forearm and says to my dad, “You are not invited. I don’t think you’ll be good for the baby.”

“Ludicrous.”

“Dad, you’re making a scene,” I say. “Somebody’s bound to record it and post it all over social media. Imagine going viral for not getting invited to your son’s wedding.” Wouldn’t that be hilarious.

Dad’s lips purse. “We’ll discuss this later, when we’re more private.”

He and his date go to another table, and we’re back to having peace. Sort of. Amy’s dad looks like he has a lot to say.

“I didn’t realize you had family issues. I want Amy to be with a man who doesn’t,” he says.