The Billionaire's Pet - Forbidden Fun

“Look at this,” I demand stonily, storming back over to him. I hold the note tight in my fingers as I shove it in his drunken face. I’m feeling a sense of desperation standing up to my father like this. Daddy’s never hit me, but I wouldn’t put it past him as something he’d do when he’s drunk and frustrated. I’ve never pushed his buttons, but tonight is different. Tonight, we’re on the verge of losing the only home we have.

“It’s a late notice. Our rent is due. How are we going to pay it now, Randy? You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut for one more day?”

Daddy shoots up from his spot on the couch and towers over me. The anger within him that was directed at his boss is now directed at me, along with a grimy index finger pointed in my face.

“Listen here, missy,” he snarls. “Don’t you dare talk to me that way. I work hard for this family and deserve to be treated better than this!”

His yelling and anger don’t faze me. What does is the fact that I might be homeless in a few days. With mine and Daddy’s salary combined, we hardly have enough to cover rent, much less any extras. What are we going to do? This is the third job Daddy’s gotten fired from in the past year thanks to his anger issues. We can’t keep doing this and putting our lives in jeopardy. We just can’t.

I sink back on my heels but continue to stare at him with intensity in my eyes.

“How are we going to pay rent, Randy?” I ask in a steely voice. “You know that we can’t make it on my income alone.”

His anger subsides and he gently shakes his head, remorse and realization now visible in his eyes.

“I don’t know, Jess. I don’t know what to do.”

Daddy falls back down and starts whining and groaning on the couch. With his cigarette still balanced between his fingers, he plants his face in his palms. He’s quiet for a moment before looking up at me with those yellow eyes.

“Can you pick up extra shifts at the diner?”

My eyes narrow at him. He seriously did not just ask me that.

“Dad, I work full-time now. Do you mean extra shifts on top of that? I’m not sure that’s possible, even if I had the energy.”

Randy slumps.

“Oh, sorry babe, I didn’t realize that.”

Of course he didn’t.

I feel anger boiling in me. I crumple the late notice in my fingers and spin on my heels to keep myself from lashing out at him. This man seriously needs to get his life together, and I’ve got to figure out a way to pay rent. Better yet, I need to find a way to get out of this trailer park altogether.

I’ve been here my whole life, and I thought I was getting close to moving out. Slowly, I had been saving just a little bit of money in the envelope beneath my mattress, but that had to go to rent last month. The longer I stay here, the more I’m in jeopardy of becoming like my father: stuck, with no prospects.

My mind is going wild with ideas on how to fix this issue while Randy continues to whine on the couch about his boss and Hernando. I block him out as I try to think about how to resolve this problem. I can’t think of anything that would work. Sure, Dad could find a new job but what if this happens again? Because odds are it will. Even if Randy were to get a new job tomorrow, he wouldn’t be paid for two weeks, and we need money now.

I sigh and put my face in my hands. I hate the feeling of desperation, but there’s only one solution I can think of to get us a temporary way out.

“We’ll go to management and ask for an extension on rent,” I say, turning back to face my father. “Tomorrow. So, clean up and go to bed. We’ll need to go first thing in the morning, and basically, we’ll need to beg.”

Randy nods his head and takes one more drag off his cigarette. I reach to pluck it from his lips and dab it in the ashtray and he shoots me an angry look.

“What the fuck did you do that for?”

“Go to bed, Daddy. I’m serious. We need to be cleaned up and on our best behavior for tomorrow.”

Randy rolls his eyes and huffs before standing and trying to walk to his bedroom. The man has become so accustomed to drinking that he can actually walk somewhat straight even though he’s totally loaded. Once he’s is in his room, I hear the mattress creak as he plops down, and then snores erupt seconds later.

Meanwhile, I collapse onto the small kitchen table. I put my face in my bent elbows and cry silently. I need to get these emotions out because they’ve been bottled up for too long. Day after day I wake up and pray that Daddy makes it through work and that we’ll be fine until next month’s rent is due, but my faith in him has basically evaporated by now. We’ve got to find a way to come up with this rent money, but how?