Daddy Dearest: The Bad Boy Bargain (Complete Series)

by Lila Moore

  “Uh, no. Nothing like that. Though, I did find out Val has a daughter.”

  “Shit. How did she manage to keep a kid secret?”

  “The ‘kid’ in question is about to start college.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Eighteen or nineteen.”

  “I thought Val was-”

  “Twenty-seven? Yeah, so did I.”

  Trent practically fell over from laughing so hard. “She got you good. Admit it.”

  I sighed and rubbed my face.

  Trent laughed again. “Twenty-seven... she looks good though- for a grandma.”

  “She’s not that old.”

  “How old is she?”

  “I have no idea, actually.”

  “What else do you think she lied about?”

  “Everything. Her daughter looked horrified.”

  “Wait a minute- she actually brought her kid to dinner last night? That’s how you found out about her? She just dropped that bomb and thought you’d be cool with it?”

  “It gets worse.”

  I didn’t want to admit my attraction to Genevieve, but I had to tell someone. I was going crazy.

  “Let me guess,” Trent said, “her daughter is smokin’ hot?”

  I stared at him blankly. How had he guessed? When Trent saw the look on my face he started to laugh.

  “Shit, Luke, I was just joking. So, Bunny Boiler’s daughter is hot? Tell me, you fucked her. Please. It will make my year.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, but no, I didn’t sleep with her.”

  “But you wanted to. Fuck man, do it. I would.”

  It was becoming clear that it was a bad idea to talk to Trent about this. He was nothing more than an overgrown Frat Boy. The only thing a guy like Trent cared about what getting laid; consequences be damned.

  “I can’t sleep with the daughter of my ex-whatever.”

  “Your ex-whatever is nuts and her daughter is hot. You better hit that before I do. A warning though: you stick your dick in crazy, you reap the consequences. You found that out the hard way with Val. Chances are her daughter’s no better. My advice: hit it and quit it. Fuck her, then change your phone number, your email, shut down your social media accounts. Ghost them both out of your life.”

  “That’s a bit excessive, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve never dealt with a Bunny Boiler situation before. I have. Trust me. You need to shut this down now before it gets out of control.”

  “In that case, it would be best to forget about Genevieve.”

  “Who’s Genevieve? The daughter? Christ, you got it bad already. Are you sure you didn’t fuck her? Because the way you’re moping around makes it look like you got it bad for this chick.”

  “I haven’t fallen for her. I don’t even know her.”

  “She must be hot if you’re losing it like this. Is she hotter than Val? Who am I kidding? Of course she is. Why else would you be acting this way? You got a picture of her?”

  “No. And if I did, I don’t think I’d show you.”

  Trent waved his hand in the air dismissing my words. He pulled out his phone and started typing.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Bingo!” he said, ignoring me.

  He turned his phone around, showing me the screen. It was Genevieve’s Instagram account. There were pictures of her outside a bookstore, smiling brightly. It was hard to imagine the melancholy girl I’d met last night happy, but she appeared to be in her photos.

  Of course, pictures can be deceiving. People try to create phony impressions online all the time. Secretly, they’re miserable, but all their online posts point to a happy, healthy existence. Maybe Genevieve was trying to hide her true self?

  All the pictures following the bookstore photo were of Genevieve with a skinny, tall guy. He had his hand around her shoulder territorially as he smiled into the camera like a used car salesman.

  Instantly, I hated him.

  In a second photo, Genevieve kissed his cheek while he stared directly into the camera. His brow was furrowed and his cheeks were sucked in. He was trying to pose; he looked ridiculous. He seemed more concerned with getting a good photo then paying attention to the girl kissing him.

  Genevieve’s Instagram was full of pictures of this guy. She hadn’t made a new post in almost three weeks, but prior to that she posted photos of the guy multiple times a day.

  Interesting. They must have broken up.

  Even though this information was public, I felt like I was snooping. I handed the phone back to Trent.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m not going to pry into her personal life.”

  “Why not? It’s public. It’s the twenty-first century; everyone cyber-stalks.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well, maybe you should start. If you’d cyber-stalked Val you might have learned what a nut she is sooner- could have avoided this whole mess. Of course, you wouldn’t have learned about her hot daughter…”

  “Okay, enough.”

  “So, are you going to see her again?”

  “Genevieve? I have no reason to.”

  “What about the ring?”

  That was a good question. I had no idea how much it cost, but the diamond was huge. I was dreading checking my credit card statement. I needed to get the ring back.

  “You didn’t get the ring back last night, did you?” Trent asked.

  “I didn’t have a chance.”

  “Don’t worry. I got this.”

  Trent started texting.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Trent, seriously, don’t fuck around. You’re going to make things worse. With everything going on around here, I don’t need more drama in my life.”

  “I know you. You won’t call this girl, even though you want to. You’re into her, she’s into you. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t hookup.”

  “Weren’t you just lecturing me about how she’s probably just as crazy as her mother?”

  “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fuck her.”

  “Enough. Stop talking about her like that. She’s not some disposable girl.”

  “Shit, man you do have it bad.”

  He finished texting and said: “There. Now we just have to wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “For Genevieve to send a message back.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I set up an Instagram account in your name, then sent a private message asking her to meet you and bring the ring.”

  “Trent, dammit. I don’t want to complicate things. Can’t you just mind your own fucking business?”

  “Whoa! I’m trying to help you out. Besides, you want the ring back, right? What’s the harm in meeting her? Get the ring back and move on with your life. It’s only complicated if you make it complicated.”

  I hate to admit it, but Trent was right. I was the one adding drama to the situation. I would meet Genevieve in some place public, thank her for bringing the ring, then leave. Simple. What could possibly go wrong?

  Genevieve

  I stretched out across my bed and stared at the ceiling. Guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife. I shouldn’t have been so hard on my mother. Without question, she was a mess, but I didn’t need to be so mean to her. I’m not a mean-spirited by nature. I just lost my temper.

  I’ve tolerated a lot from my mother and I’ve held my tongue through most of it. Her behavior last night was a step too far though. The question was, why? This didn’t rank in the top ten worst things my mother has done and yet it felt horrible. Still, I knew I should apologize to her. I just couldn’t swallow my pride and do it. It made it hard knowing she would never extend me the same courtesy and apologize for putting me in that position with Luke last night.

  I just had to let it go. You have to learn to accept the things you cannot change.

  My cell phone made a trilling sound. I had a new email. M
aybe it was from Michael. I opened my phone and saw that the email was just spam. I started to turn off my phone when I noticed someone had sent me a Direct Message on Instagram. It was from Luke.

  I sat up in bed. My heart raced. Why was he messaging me? I’d made a fool of myself in front of him. I read the message once, then again, slowly.

  Wat up? Hit me up 2nite & bring ur moms ring. Seeya @ Blu Lounge. 9 PM. PS Ur loking hot in ur pics.

  The end of the message included an emoji with a mischievous smile wearing devil horns.

  What the hell? I read the message a third time. This was not what I expected from Luke. This message looked like it had been written by a twelve year old. Had I seriously misjudged him? Sometimes a guy can be so hot that you’re blinded to their awful personalities. Still, Luke didn’t seem immature, or douche-y. He had to be a bit naïve to fall for my mother’s lies, though. She was not subtle. He had to have on serious blinders when it came to her.

  My fingers hovered over my phone’s screen. I had no idea how to respond. He wanted to meet to get my mother’s ring back. That was understandable. He probably thought it was easier to use a go-between. If he met my mother in person, she’d probably refuse to give the ring back and cause a scene.

  I didn’t want to get into the middle of this mess, but I wanted to see Luke again. The strange message had made me even more curious about him.

  ‘OK,’ I texted back. ‘9PM Blue Lounge.’

  I had no idea where that was. I’d have to look it up. More importantly, I’d have to steal my mother’s ring.

  I looked at the time. It was eleven AM but I was sure my mother was still asleep. She was used to keeping late hours and she liked to mix prescription pills with champagne to help her sleep. The combo usually knocked her out. It was incredibly dangerous, but that never stopped her.

  I walked into her bedroom, not even bothering to be quiet. I knew she’d be in her champagne-benzo coma. She snored loudly beneath her pink canopy bed. Gauzy blush-colored curtains surrounded her like Malaria nets. She slept in a matching pink nightie and a full face of makeup. She always said that you should never let a man see you without makeup on.

  I rolled my eyes at the sight of her. I rarely wear makeup and if that’s a problem for anyone too bad.

  I lifted her arm. The ring was still on her finger. I managed to pull it off but it took some effort. She never stirred as I manhandled her.

  I dropped her arm onto the bed with a thud. She sighed in her sleep then continued snoring.

  The diamond was intimidatingly huge. It had to cost a small fortune. What if I lost it? I debated what to do with it and ultimately decided to wear it. I slid it on my ring finger; it fit perfectly. The huge rock made my hand look childishly small.

  If a man proposed to me, I’d want something more tasteful; maybe a diamond band or a small stone. I twisted the ring around my finger. What would it be like to be engaged? I tried to imagine Michael proposing to me. We haven’t known each other long, but I would say yes if he asked. He would make it perfect: romantic, but not cheesy; touching, but not overly sentimental.

  That was never going to happen, of course. He’d moved on with that fake-looking, overly bronzed Oompa Loompa girl.

  The sudden mad urge to chuck the ring out the window rose up inside me. As much as I wanted to, that wasn’t an option. The ring belonged to Luke and I’d promised to return it.

  I twisted it around my finger where it rested securely. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about losing it. Now, to get out of the apartment before my mother woke to discover her ring was gone.

  I went to my bedroom and turned my closet inside out and trying to decide what to wear tonight. We weren’t going to meet until nine, but I needed to sneak out of the house before then.

  I looked at the dress my mother made me wear last night. It was wadded up on the floor in the corner of my closet. I flushed at the memory of all those people in the restaurant staring at me. I’d looked like a hooker.

  Did Luke like the way I looked in the dress? I’d caught him checking me out once, but that didn’t necessarily mean he thought I looked hot. The dress left nothing to the imagination; it was natural that he’d stare.

  I was going to show Luke the real me. I wasn’t the kind of girl who dressed like a high-priced escort or acted as an accomplice in my mother’s schemes. For the most part, I’m a normal girl- I think.

  I pulled out a pair of skinny jeans, ballet flats and a black cardigan. Then I ran a comb through my dark, thick hair. I needed a haircut. No time today. Besides, I didn’t want to risk disaster. What if I ended up with a bad hairstyle? I didn’t want to follow up a bad first impression with a worse second impression.

  I decided not to put on makeup. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard. I wanted Luke to see the natural girl underneath the spackled on makeup my mother made me wear last night.

  I considered myself in the mirror. I wasn’t going to win any beauty contests any time soon, but I looked decent. It suddenly occurred to me how pathetic I was being. Why did I care so much? Even if Luke did find me attractive, nothing could come of it. I was not going to date my mother’s ex. The thought made my skin crawl.

  I had a hard time believing the kind of man who found my mother’s personality appealing would want to date me. We were polar opposites. I am not the party girl type. Nor will I tell a man whatever he wants to hear just to stroke his ego.

  I stood up straighter in the mirror. I would be myself, deliver the ring and leave. Simple.

  Genevieve

  I stood outside the Blu Lounge and debated whether or not to walk away and return home. I checked my cell phone’s map directions for the hundredth time. There was only one Blu Lounge in the city and this was it.

  Neon blue light bathed the sidewalk as a line full of men waited to get inside. The fact that there were only men in line along with a handful of women should have been a huge warning flag. What kind of club catered primarily to men? If I’d stopped to think about that question for half a second, the answer was obvious. But the reality of the situation didn’t dawn on me until it was too late.

  I walked to the front of the line. A muscular man with a tablet stood guard at the entrance. He was checking to see if names were on a list. The people at the front of the line were arguing loudly with him after he’d turned them away.

  “Excuse me,” I said, trying to speak over the man who was screaming at the bouncer.

  The bouncer looked relieved to have someone else to deal with. His eyes drifted over my body. He looked amused. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should I be insulted, or relieved?

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Is this the Blu Lounge?”

  He looked at me like I was a moron. He was standing directly in front of a neon sign that said ‘Blu Lounge.’ The bouncer motioned over his shoulder to it.

  I smiled weakly. “I think I’m supposed to meet someone here.”

  “Name?”

  “My name is Genevieve. His is Luke…”

  It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t know Luke’s last name.

  “Genevieve. You’re on the list.”

  He stepped aside. The man at the front of the line protested.

  “Are you kidding me? This girl gets in, but I don’t? She doesn’t even look legal.”

  The bouncer gave me an appraising stare. “ID?” he asked.

  The man in line gave me a smug look. If he couldn’t get in then he wanted to make sure no one else did either. The situation made me nervous. What if I was turned away? Most clubs don’t let anyone under twenty-one in. I’d only just turned eighteen.

  I pulled out my driver’s license and showed him. He looked at closely, bending it and shining his flashlight on it to make sure it wasn’t a fake.

  “Okay,” he said, handing my ID back. “You’re good.”

  The man in line groaned and swore. “Seriously? This chick gets in and I don’t? She probably won’t even spend any mo
ney on the girls. Meanwhile, I’ve got a wallet full of hundreds burning a hole in my pocket and you won’t let me in.”

  Spending money on ‘the girls?’ What was he talking about?

  “You going in?” the bouncer said.

  “Yeah. Um, could you tell me if Luke is here?”

  The bouncer consulted his tablet. “I’ve got a Luke on the list, but as far as I know he isn’t inside yet.”

  Great. I was early.

  “Thanks.”

  I slid past him quickly into the dark interior of the club. Immediately, I was greeted by pounding bass. When I stepped into the main room, my mouth dropped open. Naked girls grinded on poles while men threw money at them. A stripper to my right was rubbing her tits into a Frat boy’s face while his friends cheered on.

  The Blu Lounge was a strip club.

  What was Luke thinking in asking me to meet him here of all places? We barely knew each other. This was supposed to be a simple drop off. We meet; I hand over the ring- the end.

  “Excuse me, sweetheart.”

  A half-naked girl carrying a tray of drinks slipped past me.

  “Sorry,” I said, feeling like I was in the way.

  I should have left then, but a group of guys came into the room behind me, pushing me further into the club. Awkwardly, I shuffled through the crowd and ended up at the bar.

  My eyes were glued on the stage where a tall, tanned girl in six-inch Lucite heels was peeling off her clothes in time with the music. She looked beautiful beneath the stage lights as she danced. She didn’t look like she was dancing for the men, but for herself. She had a sly smile on her face and a mischievous look in her eyes as if she was enjoying this more than the men were.

  I envied her in that moment. You have to be brave to go up on stage like that. I wished I was that confident and free of self-doubt. It’s easy to dismiss women who strip as trash, but these girls were totally self-possessed and somewhat elegant in their movements. They were in their element and they were taking these pathetic, drooling men for all they were worth.