Daddy Knows Best
Page 5
“You can do better,” I smiled. “A lot better. Look at you, sweetheart, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”
“I didn’t have a life before you,” she snapped. “Nothing that meant anything. I was a drop out too, remember? On the edge of college expulsion without a single clue what I’d do with the rest of my life.”
I took her hand across the table, squeezing her fingers tight in mine. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“Deadly,” she said. “Another stupid word and I’ll put you over my knee, Daddy.”
She had me, finally, coaxing a smile despite my better senses. “This may well be love for me, Georgia Tate,” I said. “It’s yours if you want it.”
“I want it.” She squeezed my fingers right back, brushing angel curls from her eyes. “Now, tell me about my mother...”
Oh shit.
***
Cynthia was furious, but not for reasons expected. She didn’t give a shit about me boning her daughter, or about confessing my financial insufficiency. As usual Cynthia Tate cared only for herself, and her guarded little reputation.
“Let’s get this straight, Andrew,” she snapped. “I leave you alone for three weeks. Three poxy weeks to keep up appearances, and in that time you manage to fuck my daughter, spill the guts of your unfortunate predicament and tell her our marriage is a sham. That’s good going.”
“You could see it that way,” I said. “Alternatively you could examine the facts. Georgia is back in college. She smiles these days, and she does her assignments without question. She doesn’t drink, doesn’t screw randoms whenever you’re not looking, and has embraced an all-round happier demeanour.”
“Well, bravo,” she snipped. “Wonderful. Let’s have a celebration shall we? Champagne and cake, anyone?” She pulled a face, like she wanted to crush me under her boot. “All she’s ever wanted is a big, hunky dad on the scene. I got one for her, finally, and all she wants to do is jump him. Good job I didn’t love you, isn’t it? The little madam would have wormed her way in regardless.”
“She’s not stupid,” I said. “She knew you didn’t love me.”
“Lucky guess.”
“Not a lucky guess. She does know you, Cynthia, she’s lived with you for twenty years. Well, on paper anyway.” I sighed, running my hands through my hair. “Why don’t you just tell her about Helen? She’ll understand. This isn’t the middle-ages, they don’t burn lesbians at the stake.”
“Not on the surface, no, that would never do, but behind the scenes I’d be the talk of the town. I’d never hear the end of it at work. And Georgia’s a snarky little madam, anything she could get her hands on to use against me would be dangerous ammunition.”
“I don’t think so, not anymore. And about the work thing, who really cares?”
“I care,” she said. “It’s easier being married, Andrew. None of the old pervert clients hit on me anymore. One flash of my wedding ring and all extra commission propositions fall flat on their face. I’m more free than I’ve felt in years.”
“Not free enough to be with the woman you love, or be honest with the daughter you should.”
“I do love Georgia,” she snapped. “Of course I do.”
“So talk to her,” I said. “She might surprise you.”
“Thanks to you I have no choice now, do I?”
I weighed it up. “Probably not.”
“This doesn’t leave this house, understood? Not a bloody word of it, Andrew. If we’re lucky we can keep this contained, play happy families for anyone who’s watching.”
“And what if I really did want to get married one day, Cynthia?”
She laughed. “You’re a free agent, aren’t you? There was no actual wedding, Andrew, in case you’ve forgotten. Marry who you want, just don’t tell the world about it.”
“Sure thing, Mrs Priestley,” I smiled. “I’ll keep the peace, but I’ll be expecting Helen at dinner next Sunday. It’s time we all had a fresh start. Let’s work on the happy family shall we? For real this time.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
I guessed that would have to do.
***
“I like Helen,” Georgia said, draping herself across my lap. “She seems nice.”
“Your mother actually smiled today,” I laughed. “Did you see?”
“I put it down to trapped wind, but I think you maybe right. More of an upturned mouth than a grin though, I’d say.”
“It’s a start.”
“A good start,” she laughed. “So, Mr Priestley, now we’ve got the house to ourselves, what are we doing this weekend?”
“I haven’t decided,” I smiled. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
“How about I decide for once?” Her eyes were mischievous, sparkling with delight.
“Now now, Georgia, you know the rules. Who makes the decisions around here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not this old chestnut again.” She poked her tongue out, and laughed as I caught it tight between my fingers.
She mocked me so perfectly, matching my words with her own.
“It’s true what they say, Georgia Catherine Tate...” I laughed. “Daddy knows best.”
--The End--
Acknowledgements
I’ll keep it short and sweet – like Daddy Knows Best.
Massive thanks to Jade West, who convinced me to put fingers to keypad in the first place, and held my hand all the way through.
I owe tremendous gratitude to Tracy Comerford Smith for her tireless work in promotion. She’s a real gem.
And, of course, thanks to Letitia Hasser, of RBA Designs. What a cover. I’m incredibly impressed.
About the author
You can find out all you need to know over at www.facebook.com/vincentdrake.
Come hang out, I don’t bite unless you want me to.
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