“Come on, Jack.”
“Sorry, Mike, but she is. Nice to meet you Allie. I’m Jack, and this here is Ollie. We’re all old friends.”
“Right,” I said, making a show of my distaste, but really not minding the attention. Not at all.
“Hey, boys,” I decided to say. “Nice to meet you all.”
“Alright, Allie,” Michael said. I swooned. Was he being… protective of me? Was he getting jealous? Perhaps it was the hour. Perhaps it was that I had had a few drinks. I wasn’t sure, but I put my paper plate down, pizza untouched, and stood in between Jack and Ollie. “Mind if I play?” I put each hand on a shoulder, and grinned at my step-father.
“Allie!” Michael shouted, getting up and dragging me into the kitchen by my arm. He slammed the door behind us, and whirled on me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing!” I shouted back. “Your friends are creeps.”
“They’ve been drinking, and so have you, by the looks of it.”
“Shut up, Michael,” I said, looking away.
“Allie, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” I crossed my arms. Really, I didn’t know what I was doing. All of a sudden I was just so caught up with emotion, with conflict and turmoil.
“It doesn’t look or sound like it to me. Come on,” he said, pulling out a chair. “Sit down and talk to me.”
“What about your friends?”
“The boys can take care of themselves.”
“Fine,” I said, but I didn’t sit down. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“What?”
“I want you.”
Michael simply coughed. That checked him good.
“I want you,” I repeated, nodding. “And you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want me, too.”
“Woah, hold on here, Allie!” Michael blurted, putting his hands to his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, don’t play dumb with me. I know it, you know it. The question is: Will you do something about it?”
“No! Of course not. You’re my step-daughter.”
“Fine, then maybe Ollie will. Or maybe Jack will. He seems ready to go.”
“Nobody out there is laying a hand on you!” Michael was breathing heavily now. I kind of liked it that he was getting so protective of me. I walked toward him and sat on his lap. “Wait—”
“Shut up, Michael.”
“Get off me, Allie.”
“But… Daddy…” I pressed my forehead against his, looking into his eyes. I wanted him, and Mum was gone. I knew that much. Everything else was just a gambit; reckless.
“Daddy, please,” I begged. “I know you like me, too. Don’t you, Daddy?”
“Allie—”
“Don’t you, Daddy?”