The Fling (18+)

Chapter 12

It was nearing noon as I sat down in the living room, watching David pace and waiting for Jessica to finish dressing.

Dad and Adam were nowhere to be found, and the company-wide picnic was due to start in half an hour.

I could almost feel David's blood pressure rising as he stared at his phone, almost willing it to ring with news of their whereabouts.

"You know, it's lucky that Dad owns his own company," I remarked.

David didn't look up, "How so?"

"Because if he had to follow anyone's schedule but his own, he'd be fired so fast."

At that, David cracked a smile just as his phone screen lit up.

"Will you excuse me? I need to take this." Stalking away, he left me alone on the couch.

As his voice began to carry from the other room, Jessica descended the stairs, looking effortlessly casual and low-key.

I smirked to myself, knowing that one look at the labels of her clothes would reveal just how expensive they really were.

"So, how late is he?"

I shrugged, "No idea. How long does a round of golf usually take?"

Jessica sighed, "The way he plays? There's no telling." Looking me up and down, she said, "You look nice. How're you feeling?"

Biting back my knee-jerk, snide response, I replied, "Better, thanks."

"Did you remember sunscreen?"

"Hmm?"

"We're going to spend most of the afternoon out in the sun," she chided. "Here," digging around in her designer purse, she produced a slim tube, "use mine."

"Thanks." I stood up, taking the sunscreen from her hand.

As I headed for a bathroom, I glanced back, "By the way, you look nice too."

"Thanks," with a rueful smile, she plucked at the fabric of her shirt. "You know your father - he won't let me out of the house unless I'm wearing the best."

...huh?

Letting out an uncomfortable chuckle, I headed for the bathroom and began to apply a layer of protectant. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered-

What the fuck was that?

Almost an hour later, I sat in the backseat of the SUV with Jessica, unspeakably grateful that Adam had his own rental car.

The drive out to Stinson Park was already awkward enough - I already had to deal with the palpable boredom as Jessica drummed her fingers against her thigh and buckets of annoyance oozed out of David as he drove.

Dad, of course, was completely oblivious.

"You guys are going to love it. I've had the team working on it for months - we're going to have food, games, entertainment - I mean, we even have a troupe coming that does tricks on pogo sticks."

Cocking an eyebrow, I asked, "Pogo sticks?"

"They're honestly amazing. I've watched so many of their videos - here," he paused, digging for his phone, "let me pull one up..."

I was spared his non-infectious enthusiasm as David slowed to a stop in front of the park. The wide, green space was dotted with small white pavilions, milling families, and dozens of harried staff members rushing all over the place.

Stepping out of the car, I noticed music coming from the stage set up at the far end of the park. As I watched, the music cut off, and a woman at the microphone announced, "Attention: the three-legged race will be starting in five minutes! If you haven't yet, find yourself a partner and go sign up! Remember, we've got prizes galore, so don't be shy!"

Oh, god.

Plastering on a smile, I inwardly wondered how my introverted ass was going to survive the day.

I will get through this for Dad.

That thought was cold comfort. As we walked toward one of the pavilions, I waved to a handful of people I recognized and tried to dodge rushing staffers.

The overwhelming heat and humidity were not helping anything. Crossing the park, it felt like the sun had a personal vendetta against me.

God, send me back to Seattle...

Spending the past three years in the Pacific Northwest had really softened my memories of what summer felt like here.

Walking under the shade of the pavilion was a relief, and I could've cried at the sight of the two fans going full blast.

And then, I saw Adam.

He'd arrived before us, and we found him chatting with Bruce, the potential buyer, looking delectable and radiating charm.

Gritting my teeth, I fought to keep the "Daughter of the CEO" mask up. After doing it for years, it should have gotten easier, but projecting friendliness and warmth when all you want to do is hide had never been anything but a chore.

Bruce noticed our approach and smiled, "Oh, hey! We were wondering where you were!"

Dad grinned, "Had to run back to pick up these two!" Putting one arm around Jessica's shoulders and the other around mine, he squeezed us closer, almost willing us to look like a happy family.

That'd be a lot easier if Jessica was more than six years older than me.

As they moved on with the niceties, my thoughts trailed back eight years, to when the bomb had dropped...

I was in History class, doodling in my notebook when the classroom phone rang. I didn't think anything of it until Mr. Park called my name.

My head snapped up, "Yes?"

"You're being picked up, go ahead and take your things down to the attendance office."

Confused, I gathered my stuff and waved goodbye to my friends.

Down in the office, Mom was waiting for me, and that was when I started to get scared. Eyes red-rimmed, hair disheveled, she looked nothing like my poised, composed mother.

As we walked out of the school toward the parking lot, a woman approached us, cell phone in hand.

Mom stiffened but kept walking.

"Hi! I'm with KPTM - do you have anything to say with regards to your husband and the allegations that he's having an affair with one of his employees?"

I stopped dead in my tracks, not believing what I'd just heard.

Wh- what?

Mom didn't stop, not realizing that I had until her grip on my hand tugged me forward.

"Mom..."

Turning, her fingers cupped my chin, voice soft as she said, "Baby, I promise, we're going to talk about it, but I need you to get in the car."

Standing, she stared down the reporter as I walked toward our SUV and climbed in.

"-I just think it's important that people know your side of the story!"

When the door closed, I couldn't hear what my mother said to her, but whatever she said was quiet, calm, and effective. We never heard a word of that interaction in the ensuing news explosion that engulfed our lives.

As Mom climbed into the driver's seat, shutting the door behind her, I asked, "Is she telling the truth? Is Dad cheating?"

Taking a deep breath as she buckled her seat belt, she nodded "Yeah. Yeah, he is."