Daddy's Dirty Boss

“We’re a thing,” I told her. “An actual couple thing, until uni. I mean, we’ll need to keep it quiet or risk being boiled alive and that’s a shit scary risk for the taking. But still…”

She squealed for me. Actually shrieked down the phone and told me I was so crazy fucking lucky, and I was squealing too, bouncing on the spot like I’d won the lottery when the universe decided to send Dad on by in his car. He was heading home from the property office and saw me. He couldn’t not. Jumping up and down like an excited toddler at the side of the road.

His stare said a lot. Enough that my heart did a weird little thump and my belly did one to match, because he was suspicious of something and I could read it a mile off. Like he used to be when I was tiny and he knew I’d done something bad.

“What is it?” Holly pushed. “Why so quiet?”

“I’m going to need your help,” I told her, instinct taking over, and roped her along for the journey.

Sure enough Dad was certainly looking suspicious when I arrived home after him. He was already in the kitchen with Mum, talking about something that had them shutting up when I stepped on through. I tried to give my most easy smile, but it was hard. I was tossed between scared and buzzing wild, worried that they were going to see right through me and put a stop to my adventure before it even started.

“I’m going out tonight,” I said. “With Holly. We’re having a movie night at hers.”

Dad’s stare was intense. “With Holly?”

I nodded. “With Holly, yeah.”

It was a horrible moment standing there as they both looked over at me. I leaned into the kitchen units as though this was natural, but it wasn’t.

I was a young teenager all over again, asking if I could go out to the park after dinner when it was getting dark outside. I was the young girl who wanted to go play catch in the street outside when there was nobody around to watch me playing.

Dad’s sigh was really pissed at me, and I felt guilty, even though I’d really done nothing wrong.

“Are you sure it’s Holly you’re out with tonight? Nothing you want to be telling us?” he pushed, and I shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s Holly,” I told him, hating how I was lying but unsure what the hell else I was supposed to do about it. “She’s coming round in a minute to hang out here before we go.”

I was so relieved when my plans with my fantastic bestie seemed to be enough to ease the tension.

“Fine,” Dad said. “I’m sure you girls will have a good evening.”

He made to head through to the living room, but I felt the flare up in my belly. The flare up of needing more than this baby girl setup here.

“I’m eighteen years old now,” I pointed out, like it needed saying.

Dad turned around and fixed me in a glare.

“Yes, you’re eighteen. And at eighteen years old, you should be responsible enough to make the right decisions in life before heading off to university. I shouldn’t need to be telling you to keep yourself in line before that happens.”

I felt so dumb. So dumb and so stupidly young.

“What decisions?” I asked him. “What do you think I should be doing that I’m not?”

He folded his arms and stepped closer. “It’s more what I don’t think you should be doing, Faith. I’ve heard there’s plenty brewing at that office of yours.”

I had to take a deep breath, cheeks burning up so hard. “What do you mean brewing?” I asked, so petrified he’d found out somehow.

But he hadn’t.

He really hadn’t.

“Don’t you dare even think of getting tangled up with Stephen Jones before heading off to Warwick.”

I sighed with relief, unable to hold it in. “You’re worried about me getting caught up with Stephen from warehousing? You think that’s what’s brewing?”

His scowl was still super hard and Mum’s expression was so worried to match.

“Yes, I’m worried about you getting caught up with Stephen Jones from warehousing,” he said. “I’m worried about you getting caught up with anyone before taking such an important next step in your education.” He paused and looked at Mum. “We both are.”

“Be a good girl and be responsible in your actions,” Mum joined in. “We both need that from our little sweetie. You make us so proud, Faith. Don’t let us down.”

Her tone was so nice. So warm. So my mum.

I hated the pang it gave me. I really did want to keep making them proud.

“I’m not getting caught up with Stephen Jones,” I told them, grateful I wasn’t lying. “I never will be.”

They both breathed out in relief, although Dad didn’t look quite so convinced as Mum did.