Off Limits(2)

Unfortunately for me, Daddy's desire to be accepted into the upper crust of central Georgia society meant I had to endure such events on a much more frequent basis than I'd have liked. This night, we got to listen as Greg DeKalb gave a campaign speech in front of the ahem fraternal club that both he and Daddy now belonged to. Daddy had been accepted only after his marriage to Brittany. Greg was running for Governor in the next election, and he was certainly hitting up his cronies at the club for funds. While I saw nothing wrong with trying to get money from his friends, the dog and pony show that was this speech and dinner just dragged on my nerves. Seriously, why not just go around the golf course while shooting a round and ask for support? At least then I wouldn't have to sit through it.

Thankfully, Greg's speech went on for just another few minutes before he wrapped it up, and the two hundred dollar per plate dinner started. I glanced at the ornate grandfather clock against the wall near where we were sitting, stifling a curse that certainly would have earned another rebuke from Brittany. Once the lights rose, I turned to Daddy, pointedly ignoring her. "Daddy, I understand that this is something you wanted to do, but would you mind if I go?"

"Go where, honey?" Daddy asked, reaching for his knife. Two hundred dollars was a lot of money for a steak dinner, and inwardly, I was thinking that for the price of just one of the three plates Daddy had paid for, he and I could have had a lot more fun doing something else. "Dinner just started, and if you go now, you'll miss dessert. It's supposed to be the famous bourbon vanilla pudding. Since you're over twenty-one now, I don't think it'd be too bad if you had some."

I looked down at my steak, which despite the price tag looked like something I could have gotten at Outback, and tried not to push it away. It's not that I have anything against a good steak. In fact, I'll eat just about any meat you put in front of me, but that night, I didn't want to even touch it. What I wanted to do was get out of that club.

Daddy's marriage to Brittany had certainly solved some problems for him, and I gave him credit. He didn't let it change who he was at the core. But there were still issues that I didn't like. First of all, it made Daddy even more desperate to be accepted in this upper class of Atlanta society, and as anyone who's been to high school in the past generation can tell you, the worst way to be accepted was to act desperate for acceptance. The society types begrudged Daddy a seat at their table, partly because of Brittany's connections but also because of his money. He'd built so many houses and owned enough housing subdivisions that he could have ignored them, but he didn't, probably because of his roots in the working class. He wanted to show them up and at the same time force them to accept him after they'd ignored him for so long.

But, the biggest problem I had with Daddy's marriage to Brittany was that it made his overprotective streak even more stifling. When Mom and my sister, Connie, had been killed, Daddy and I only had each other. For eight years, Daddy protected and cared for me, and I was the only girl in his life. I was all he needed, and he was all I needed. We took care of each other, like the times I'd make Kraft mac & cheese with cubed ham on the nights that he had to be at the job site late. He'd come home to a warm meal, and I'd already fed myself and cleaned up everything but his bowl, and if I was awake, I'd be either doing my homework or watching a bit of TV like a good girl should.

When Brittany came along, though, Daddy had gone from merely making sure I didn't get hurt, to letting Brittany set all sorts of rules about where I could go, what places were good enough for me, and worst of all, which people I could and could not see. She wanted me to carry on the society connections that she had given Daddy access to, including making sure I met up with the right kind of boys. Most of them were snobbish losers, and more than a few I felt even I could kick their asses. It was the biggest source of conflict within my family, and now that I was nearly twenty-three, I was sick of it.

"Daddy, one of the girls from my European history class invited me to an art exhibition, and I told her I’d go. I didn't know at the time about tonight. But if I leave now, I can meet up with her in time for the opening event," I said, trying not to put a hint of whine into my voice. I was a senior at Georgia Tech, for God's sake!

"I don't know, honey," Daddy said, looking at me worriedly. "Who is it?"

"The artist? I'm not really sure. I think it's someone from Germany," I said, blatantly avoiding the question since I already knew the reaction. I'd known Brittany long enough to practically read her mind on this subject.

"I think what Patrick wants to know is, which friend are we talking about?" Brittany asked. I didn't really like Brittany, but I didn't hate her either. She thought she was doing the right thing for me, even if she did treat it more as a duty than as a relationship. I could respect that, even if I didn't like it. I’d promised myself when I was younger that when or if I had a little girl, I would be more emotionally involved in her life than Brittany was in mine. "Is it Arianna?"

"No," I grumbled, not lying. I was raised better than that, and even if I was upset with Brittany or didn't like what she sometimes said, I wasn't going to lie, especially in front of Daddy.

"Who is it, Abby?" He asked, slicing through his steak. He dipped it in his little cup of sauce, chewing happily. Ever since his cardiac incident a few years prior, he'd been warned by his doctor to limit his red meat intake, and while he did his best, he relished opportunities like this to cut loose a little bit.