Mr. Corporate Law

1.9: Welcome Mrs Lawler Number Three

There I sat at a café, for at least thirty minutes, watching my Father and his third wife, Antonia, canoodling and being far too in love for my taste. I know they're in love and all, but seeing my Father do it disgusted me. I tried to stay as much as I could to keep a stable, polite posture and not to look too obvious that I was grossed out from the sight of their lovey dovey relationship - they've only been married for a year, so meh.

Although there must've been a bloody good reason why my Father was such in a good mood, and they certainly were acting very suspicious as they pushed and egged me to go to lunch with them even though I tried so hard to convince them that I was busy. My Father caught my lie and made me feel guilty about not wanting to spend time with them, so I had no way out. Throughout the car ride, we sat in an awkward silence. I couldn't handle it after a while and sent a text to my Mother about my situation to ask her for her opinion, and she said that it was my own fault that I put myself into the situation so I had to deal with it by myself - super supportive.

"Thank you." I smiled so forcefully towards the waitress that served us, our cups placed in front of us, well, except Antonia, who ordered a smoothie and lectured us about the bad effects of caffeine in our system.

That explained why my Father ordered decaf instead of the usual strong shot he gulped down.

"So, Marianne, how is the first day of work?" Antonia asked before sucking the green colored smoothie through the thin green straw, and her brown eyes fiercely stared me down like a cat. She had small eyes, sharp at the far corner. She reminded me of a cat more than anything. A cat with a black coat of fur.

I don't like cats.

"It's good. I survived the morning in one piece," I tried to lighten up a bit.

The cling of my Father's cup against the wooden table instantly took my attention from his wife. He showed off his happy-dappy looking self with a smile as his arm waved over Antonia's head and rested on the back of her chair, he leaned back so coolly as he commented, "She'll do well in a better environment than her past job."

And again, bringing up my past job as a PD.

Antonia patted her manicured and well-pampered hands on his cheek, a fake and posh laugh followed before she said in her fancy pancy accent. "My darling, Marianne has always done an amazing job as public defender, and she will definitely be a better corporate lawyer like her Daddy dearest."

Shut up Antonia, I don't need your accent or your words to defend me.

"Even so, she still needs to do a lot to prove herself," My Father scoffed, being in a bit of disbelief at the thought of me doing a job well done.

"Stop it, you, don't be so hard on her." She's still at it. Was this her way of trying to win me over?

The man lifted the cup up to his eye level and somewhat cheered it my way. "Fine by me," He didn't argue back as he sipped his coffee.

Antonia fully shut down his attempts at being a strict, mean and condescending Father - a douche. I did not think that he would ever give some woman the power to do that, I mean, Chef-Mom never used to be able to do that, they used to have big arguments about being looked down on because she was only a chef and a woman. And I'm very certain that my Mother didn't get any right of authority either, hence why they got divorced in the first place. It made me wonder, what made Antonia so special, why was she given authority to be bossy with him like that, especially since he's not the type of person to be okay with being bossed around.

Why do you think he and Nathaniel co-founded a firm of their own?

As I stared at her, she still reminded me of a cat. Antonia sat with a lot of poise, class and elegance, she radiated in her own beauty and showed a lot more femininity in every way she moved. She presented her gracefulness through the way she gracefully moved her arms, like she danced, as she gestured through her favourite topic - healthy eating and using organic food in the house, which I've already heard all before. Her lips curved at only the left side whenever she said a word, and she spoke her sentences with a high level of posh as well as the fancy foreign accent that I could barely recognize.