I had her, I saw it. Still, I took it a step further. "And leave Glenda alone. Quit abusing the staff. I catch you doing it again, I will tell at least one of your friends something interesting that you've said about them. Is that clear?"
She nodded, her face a careful mask.
Round for me.
I went back to packing. My dad was supposed to pick me up at two, and I had to rush to be ready on time.
Still, I was ready at two. Two came and went, then three. Then four.
At five o'clock a car and driver showed up.
"Do I really have to go?" I asked my mother, who had only just emerged from her wing of the house.
"Of course you do. It's part of the deal."
"He didn't bother to show up himself, and even his driver is three hours late."
She shrugged, completely unaffected. "So? A deal's a deal. He has you for the weekend. Go."
"I don't want to go. I want to stay with Gram instead."
"It's interesting that you think any of us care what you want. Now go."
It was hopeless. My mother had never been any help in dealing with my father, and she clearly wasn't interested in changing that.
I went with the driver.
I hated visiting my father. Living with my mother was obviously no picnic, but I'd learned how to deal with her and stay largely out of her way.
Leo was a different and less familiar challenge. Who knew what awful things he had planned for me this time?
A selfish part of me wished I could at least have brought Scarlett with me, but even if I could have gotten her away, the fact was that I didn't like to bring her around my father.
I didn't like the way he looked at her. It was unsettling and infuriating, some strange mixture of distaste, recognition, and animal lust. It made me want to hurt him.
I'd taken to sheltering her from my father even more diligently than I did my mother.
I only had to stay with Leo a few weekends a year, but they were always particularly dreadful.
This one was no exception.
I wasn't greeted at the door of his penthouse apartment. I had to ring the doorbell several times before a redheaded woman in her underwear answered the door.
She smiled when she saw me. "You must be the birthday boy," she said and took off her bra. "I've got a present for you, D—" She paused, then called over her shoulder, "Leo! What's your son's name again?"
"Dante," he called back from somewhere in the large apartment. "Happy Birthday, boy!" he shouted.
At least he's here, I thought wryly. Drunk off his ass, but here.
It wasn't even my birthday. That'd been over a month ago, and I'd seen him at least once since then.
The topless woman started moving closer, and I warded her off with my hands. "No, thank you. I have a girlfriend."
She giggled and went down to her knees. She put a finger over her mouth and said in what I think she thought was a quiet voice. "I won't tell her if you won't. Now come here. Let me see if big cocks run in the family. Don't be shy. I don't have a gag reflex."
I wanted to leave right then, but I was too proud. My father would say I'd run away like a pussy or something along those lines. He always turned everything into a test for me, like he was some standard to be held to, which was a joke.
"No, thank you," I told her, coldly and politely. "Which room is my dad in?"
Another woman walked into the entryway, this one blonde, wearing a corset around her middle and nothing else. The blonde was not natural.
"I'll show you to him, baby," she purred at me. "You guys are into some fucked up shit—the father/son kink, but I'm down. Ever double penetrated a woman? If you're into that, I'm your girl."
I was genuinely horrified. I didn't consider myself a prude, but she'd more than shocked me.
"I want to talk to him," I clarified. Translation: I wanted to chew him the hell out.
She nodded her head toward the billiard room. "The party's in there, birthday boy. You're in for a treat, let me tell you."
It was not a treat.
Well, not for me, at least. Leo seemed to be enjoying himself.
I hadn't thought I could have less respect for my father, but I'd been wrong.
The first thing I noticed was the two girls on the pool table. They were naked, on hands and knees, facing away from each other, and they were moving. When I realized what they were doing, I felt myself blush.
The next thing my eye caught was my depraved father. He was sitting on one of the low leather couches with a glass in one hand, while the other was tucking himself back into his pants, his eyes glued to the pool table. The woman beside him, his mistress, I realized in shock as she straightened up from his lap, was wiping her mouth.
"Can I have a word?" I asked him sharply.
He sent me a glare that made him look like a spoiled child told to put down his ice cream. "Oh what now? You're not happy with your birthday party?"
"I'll be in the kitchen," I told him and left the room, having to shrug off two half-naked prostitutes as I went.
He didn't make me wait as long as I thought he would, only ten minutes or so, but in that time I had to kick five working girls out of the room.