"What is it, daddy?" my father said sweetly, not the least bit embarrassed to be standing in front of me in a skimpy purple bikini.
"Well honey, I..." but I didn't even get to finish my sentence when the cell phone on the table started to buzz loudly. "Mr. Anderson" read the caller ID. My boss. I sighed and stared at it for a minute.
"You gonna answer that?" My dad chirped, having no inkling of a memory of what it was like to talk to the asshole on the other end of that call.
"Yeah," I finally resigned. "Sorry sweetie, we'll chat later, OK?"
"Sure thing Dad," he said as he left to join Kelly. I looked at the phone again, buzzing away. I knew I wouldn't be able to avoid this forever.
"Hello?" I said as I answered.
"Smith! We haven't seen you at the office all week. Where have you been?"
"Well sir I've been getting a lot of work done at home," I said. Which was true. One of the perk's of Dad's job was being able to work from home a lot. Something he did often while I was on summer break. I used to hate having him around all the time, but now it seemed like a godsend. I could keep an eye on him in his new role, and not have to leave the house too often. Not that Mr. Anderson liked it too much.
"Well it's not enough," he said harshly. "I'm not liking the numbers I've been seeing the last few weeks, and frankly I think your whole department has been underperforming lately. You know there's a review coming at the end of the quarter."
"Yes sir."
"And you know that promotions only go to the top performers."
"Yes, sir." I knew that all too well, now. Mr. Anderson had been holding that promotion over my dad's head all year, trying to motivate him. I knew how much it meant to him. How much it still meant to him, really. Just last night he tried giving me puppy dog eyes and sweet-talking me into getting his own car. Not to mention his credit card bill, which I was suddenly responsible for. I was already dreading the damage today's shopping spree would cause.
"Well then you'd better be at the department meeting tomorrow morning. 9 AM. No excuses. We're going to go over the numbers and talk strategy. We need to have a plan by lunchtime. Got it?"
"Absolutely, sir." And with that, the line clicked dead without even a cursory goodbye. My stomach sank as I thought about what was in store tomorrow: Getting up early. Wearing a stuffy suit. Fighting traffic. I heard laughter again, and then pop music blaring from my old bedroom.
I tried to fight the tears welling up in my eyes, knowing exactly what my dad was up to. In a way I was sort of glad he was oblivious to all of this. At least someone was going to have a fun summer.
