52 Reasons to Hate My Father (12 page)
Read 52 Reasons to Hate My Father Online
Authors: Jessica Brody
The weatherman was right. It’s a perfect day for the beach.
NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A LARRABEE
Mwahahahahahahahahaha!
In case you couldn’t tell, that’s my diabolical I-outsmarted-my-father-and-his-brownnosing-intern-page-boy laugh. I would do it aloud right here in the parking lot of the Albertsons supermarket but I don’t really want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself. Not when I’m
this
close to getting the heck out of here.
That was easy. Almost
too
easy. I’m
almost
offended that my father and his minion think so little of me. That they so terribly underestimate me. Well, serves them right, then. They deserve to be duped.
When I told Jia and T my plan, they were more than happy to front me the cash to get me through the next fifty-one weeks. They know I’m good for the money. I mean, I
do
have a twenty-five-million-dollar check coming my way. I even offered to pay them interest on their investment but neither one of them would have it.
So all I have to do now is keep paying off struggling supervisor after struggling supervisor until the year is over and then it’s
au revoir
Larrabee Family,
bonjour
trust fund!
I keep one eye on my cell phone to check the time and the other on the parking lot in expectation of my transportation. Cars come and go as the slew of suburban housewives tackle their weekly shopping lists. I told Jia and T I’d meet them at eleven at my father’s beach-front condo in Malibu.
I quickly tap out a text message to Jia to let them know that my plan was a grand success. A horn honks just as I’m pressing send and I sling my bag over my shoulder and start for the curb. But when I look up, I’m dismayed to see that it’s not, in fact, the black limousine with tinted windows that I ordered but rather a small silver sedan.
A very
familiar
silver sedan.
A silver sedan I was just riding in less than an hour ago.
Crap.
The passenger-side window rolls down and Luke’s face appears. “Going somewhere?”
“No,” I say, pretending to have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. “I was just getting some air.” I wave a hand in front of my face for effect. “It’s really stuffy in there!”
“Mmm hmm.” Luke is clearly not fooled by my little hot-flash performance. “Get in,” he commands.
I huff out a sigh and reluctantly slide into the passenger seat. “Yes?”
“I have something to show you.” He reaches behind him and pulls his briefcase from the backseat. Then he takes out a Larrabee Media monogrammed laptop and opens it.
I feign impatience. “Will this take very long? I kind of have to go. I have a lot of work to do in there, you know? Bagging groceries and everything.”
“Mmm hmm,” he says again, tapping away at the keyboard.
I discreetly glance out the windshield for signs of my car service.
“It’s not coming,” Luke says, without looking up from the screen.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your car,” he replies nonchalantly. “It’s not coming.”
I make a
pfff
sound with my mouth to indicate that he’s clearly lost it. “What car?”
“The one you ordered and I canceled.”
“What?” I cry. “Why would you do … How did you—”
He interrupts me by pushing the computer into my lap and pressing a button.
A grainy black-and-white image fills the screen. It looks kind of familiar. Then I gasp as I realize that it’s the back office of the store that I left only a few minutes ago. And it’s not just an image. It’s a
video
. The door swings open and in walks Neil followed by me. I watch in horror as the scene I just lived replays right before my eyes.
“You were spying on me!” I scream in disgust.
“I find
monitoring
to be a more accurate term.”
“It’s
spying
,” I protest. “And it’s unacceptable.”
“The store is already equipped with cameras,” Luke explains. “We were just given access to the feed.”
My eyes open wide with horror. “Does Neil know that?”
Luke nods solemnly. “Yes, which is why he called me the minute you left.”
I can feel my stomach start to boil. “That rat!”
Luke laughs at my reaction. “Oh, Lex,” he condescends. “Did you honestly think you could outsmart me? Your father?” He flashes me a patronizing smile. “Please.”
I seethe in silence, my chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.
“Your father warned me that you’d try everything in your power to get out of having to work. Which is why I told all the supervisors in advance that they were to report any bribe attempts or other methods of evasion on your part. And which is why I got permission to tap your cell phone. It’s also equipped with a GPS tracking device, so I wouldn’t try to go anywhere if I were you.” He cocks his head to the side, his expression suddenly pensive. “I guess now I understand your good mood this morning.”
The anger is rising up. Just like it always does. I clutch the laptop in my hands and eye the open window next to me. With a distressed battle cry, I launch the computer up in the air and aim for the sidewalk. It leaves my hands and I watch anxiously for the collision. The satisfying crunch of Larrabee Media–issued technology smashing against pavement.
But it never comes. And that’s when I realize that Luke grabbed the laptop from my hands right before I hurled it toward the open window.
I turn around to see him calmly closing the lid and returning it to his briefcase. As if removing computers from the hands of would-be electronics assassins is all in a day’s work for him.
“Your father also warned me about your temper,” Luke states in a composed tone.
With a furious grunt, I jerk on the door handle and push the door open with my feet. “You know,” I screech as I scramble back onto the curb, “for someone who’s never around, my father sure knows a heck of a lot about me!”
“Enjoy your shift!” Luke calls out.
I slam the door and stalk back into the store. I don’t stop moving until I find Neil in the bread aisle, marking items with an electronic pricing gun.
I shove my open hand in his face and growl, “I want my money back.”
Sent: Friday, July 6, 9:36 p.m.
To: Luke Carver
From: Video-Blaze.com
Subject: You have received a video message from Lexington Larrabee
CLICK
HERE
TO PLAY MESSAGE
Or read the free transcript from our automated speech-to-text service below.
[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]
I know, I know. I haven’t done a status report in over a month. Blah blah blah. You tell me every single time I get in the car. So fine. Here it is. Your new video message status report.
In case you couldn’t tell from these horrific bags under my eyes, I’m a little tired right now. Can you see them? Can you see the bags? How about when I lean into the camera like this? Now can you see them? You shouldn’t have a problem. They’re epic.
That’s probably because I spent the last month in hell. And I don’t really feel like rehashing all the glorious moments of torture with you but I know, I have to. Because this is a status report. And I’m supposed to report on my status. And if I don’t comply with your requirements, you’ll have to report me to my father.
Did you like my impression of you just then? Pretty good, huh? I’ve been practicing.
So anyway … Wait, hold on … I have something disgusting under my nail. Ick! What
is
that? I don’t even wanna know.
Okay. So job #2 was at Albertsons. What did I learn from Mr. Albertson? Well, I learned to always check for hidden cameras when you attempt to bribe someone. I learned that it’s physically impossible to push a train of forty shopping carts through a parking lot in Pucci espadrilles … without falling on your face, that is. Oh, I also learned that you’re not supposed to use cake icing to spell out obscenities or draw distasteful images on children’s birthday cakes. And for the record, I don’t know what Neil told you but that was not a picture of what he thought it was. It was supposed to be two people playing leapfrog. Just wanna clear that up.
Job #3 was … What was it again? Oh right. Cleaning horse stalls at that stable in Malibu. Sorry, I’ve tried to block that one from my memory. Although I found the experience very metaphorical. My life having literally turned to crap. Horse crap, that is. So there’s my insight on that.
Then I worked at the doughnut shop where I learned how to wake up at 3:30 in the freaking morning. Every day. To do what, you might ask? Something exciting? Oh, yes! I woke up at the crack of dawn to knead dough! Thrilling, isn’t it? And you wouldn’t guess it just by looking at it, but doughnut dough is sticky. It gets places. Places I don’t even want to talk about.
After that came the exciting week of washing dishes at that Chinese restaurant. And I learned that [unidentifiable word] in Chinese means hurry the [expletive deleted] up. At least that’s what I could deduce from the context and the frequency of use. I guess that might come in handy the next time I’m in Beijing. So thank you! Thanks, Luke! Thanks, Daddy! I really
am
learning useful things.
That was sarcasm, by the way. In case they don’t have that on your planet.
All right, where was I? Oh, yes. Job #6. Hold on, let me get my handy little list out.
Here it is. See? This is the official list. Kindly faxed over by my good friend Bruce. Here, I’ll hold it closer to the camera. Can you see it now? If you’ll notice, I’ve crossed out the original title and written in a new one. It’s now called the 52-Reasons-to-Hate-My-Father list. And currently we’re on reason #6. The cemetery. Digging graves for a week. Creepy. Very, very creepy. Although …
Oh, wait a sec. I just got an e-mail. It’s from my friends Jia and T. Do you know where they are? They’re where I’m supposed to be right now. On a private yacht, cruising around the Mediterranean. They left three weeks ago. Isn’t that just the cherry on top of the whole yummy-delicious crap sundae that has become my life?
Ooh, they’re in Santorini this week. How lovely. Look, they’ve even included a photograph. Check out that crystal-blue water? Isn’t it beautiful? It says,
Miss you. Love you. Wish you were here.
Yeah, that makes three of us.
Wait, I have another picture to show you. Hold on, let me bring it up on my phone. Okay, here it is. Here’s me, after working the graveyard shift … literally …
at
the graveyard. Notice the shovel in my hand and the dirt. It’s pretty much everywhere, isn’t it? Notice the expression on my face. That’s the face of misery. In case you couldn’t tell.
So what did I learn from that experience? I learned that I would like to be cremated.
[END TRANSCRIPT]
COLD FRONT
“I’m not going,” I vow as I lie facedown on my unmade bed. This is generally what my weekends have become, by the way. Forty-eight hours of lying motionless on my bed (or in the bathtub) while my muscles and joints attempt to recuperate from the horrors of my most recent job.
And with my friends off cruising around the Mediterranean without me, there’s not much else for me to do. The day they left was pretty much the worst day of my life. They offered to stay but I wouldn’t let them. What would be the point? Just because I have to suffer doesn’t mean they should have to also.
But I’m seriously starting to regret that heroic decision of mine because now I have no one. I’m utterly alone. And the last thing I want to do right now is be social. Especially at an event like this.
“It’s your father’s
engagement
party,” Caroline reminds me with an impatient
tap tap tap
of her foot.
“Exactly.”
She huffs and pulls another dress from the wardrobe rack my stylist wheeled in last night. “What about this one? This one looks nice.”
I don’t look up. “I said I’m not going.”
“You have to go,” Caroline insists in her nasally French accent. “The entire press corps will be there.”
“How romantic,” I mumble.
“It is your duty to this family to be photographed next to your father and his fiancée on the day of their engagement party.”
“Will I also have to be photographed next to them on the day of their divorce?”
Caroline sighs and returns the dress to the rack, exchanging it for another. “Now, this one is
gorgeous
. You will look fantastic in this!” Her fake enthusiasm is so transparent I nearly gag.
I roll onto my back and pull the covers to my chin. Holly emerges from the balcony where she’s been stalking a squirrel, bounds up her red carpeted staircase, and curls up next to me. “Spare me the flattery, Caroline. I’m not getting out of this bed.”
“But the guests are going to start arriving in an hour. The twins are flying in from New York.
People
wants an exclusive with you and your brothers, and we’re setting up a beautiful shot of the whole family in the gardens.”
The thought of that bimbo being photographed in my
mother’s
gardens makes me want to hit something. Or some
one
.
“If Cooper doesn’t have to be there, then neither do I.”
“Cooper,” Caroline growls back, “is feeding starving children in the Sudan. He gets enough good publicity for this family. You, on the other hand, after that little stunt you pulled with the convenience store, are in serious publicity deficit. Your father’s working on a big upcoming merger and we need all the good press we can get to make sure the stockholders are on board. So why don’t you get up, put on something the photographers will like, get your butt downstairs, and do your part, okay?”
I pull my cell phone off my nightstand and start scrolling through the latest tweets on my Twitter app. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Fine,” Caroline snaps, brusquely returning the hanger to the rack. “Lie there all night. See if I care.” Then she storms out the door.
I should have known she wouldn’t give up that easily. I should have known she’d send in reinforcements. I just didn’t realize she’d go all the way to the top to get them.