the daughter - damon

boss

My name was Alfie, I'm now sixteen years old, and the daughter of the best writer in the whole world ; David Walliams. (well, okay, maybe my subjectivity isn't the best because we're blood-related, but let's pretend I don't know him...)

I really love him, but he sometimes can be such a twat...

~~~~~~~~

Growing up, I used to see my dad flirting with Simon Cowell behind the judges' desk at Britain's Got Talent (he's still doing it today)... As he explained many times to me that this Simon was his boss, I thought that it was a typical boss-employee relationship...

How dumb was I, you'd tell me.

Since I was twelve, I started flirting with my classmates, girls and boys. One girl thought I was serious, asked me out. I accepted, told that to my mum. She scolded me. I left her home, and went to live with my dad.

Okay, maybe she gave birth to me, maybe she educated me, but she was still a bitch.

"Al ?!?! What are you doing here ?!" my dad said, as I entered his home.
"I hate mum."
"I can understand that."
"Well, I come here to live with you."
"I..."

I went past him, and headed to the guests' bedroom, which was going to become mine. Going to the small living room, I noticed a guy in his fifties, sat on the couch. He was damn hot.
'He's too freaking old for you, Al...', I thought.
'Age doesn't matter', my mind responded.

"Al ? Why are you standing here ?" I heard my dad's voice.
"I- I- I-...", I stuttered, staring at the man.
"Oh, I see...", he chuckled. "That's my boss, Simon Cowell."
"Holy crap", were the only two words I was able to spit.
"Are you impressed ?" Cowell smirked. "I don't bite", he smiled, more nicely.
"Yes, he does", my dad whispered in my ear.
"Yeah, cool", I emotionlessly talked.
"You know, David talks a lot about you. He's really proud of you", my dad's boss said, standing up and coming closer.

I blushed. Because of how happy I was that my dad was actually proud of ME ?? Or because that Simon Cowell was definitely walking too fast towards me ??
"Well, thank- thank- thank you- you...", my voice wavered very unnaturally.
"I think I'm going to leave, so you two can spend some time alone", he then added.

Cowell shook my dad's hand, waved at me, and left. As soon as the door closed, I fell on my knees.
"You okay honey ?"
"I think so..."

I managed to sit on the couch, and OH DAMN, there was still Cowell's perfume on the pillows. I unconsciously picked up one, and sniffed it.
"Honey ?"
"Yes Dad ?"
"You're thirteen."
"I know."
"I'm just impressed by the way he treated you. Usually, he's so cold and mean with everyone."
"He likes showing off, doesn't he ?"
"Yeah, but if you let him do it, he quite likes you."
"I ha- hate people who show off."
"You didn't seem to hate him though", he lazily sat next to me.

I squeezed the pillow harder and buried my head in it.
"He smells good."

My dad stared at me in disbelief.
"Have you drunk anything ?? Are you drugged ??"
"Dad, I'm thirteen, I don't drink."
"Did someone make you drink something ??"
"No..."
"Did someone hurt you ??"
"NO DAD I'M OKAY !"

I hadn't planned to yell at him.
"I'm sorry...", I grumbled.
"It's okay, you just seem... weird..."
"Dad, I'm a 13-year-old girl. Would you expect me to act normal ??" I sarcastically asked.
"Of course not. But you're erm- weirder than usual."
"I just didn't expect your boss to be at your place."
"You just didn't expect him to be that hot, you mean."

I didn't answer.
"He's married. We have no chance with him."

I chocked.
"WE ?!"
"You know...", he sighed.
"No, I don't know. And I don't wanna know."

I suddenly jumped from the couch.
"Why do you- ?" my dad started.
"I DON'T wanna know...", I threw the pillow in his face, and ran to my bedroom.

I locked the door, fell on the bad, my arms open, and cried.

What a shitty situation : I was in love with my dad's boss, and my father was in love with him too.

Someone knocked at the door. Tears distorted my voice as I said :
"I'm not here."
"Of course you are. You just don't want me to come in. Why ?"
"Bravo Sherlock", I violently spat.

He didn't answer for a second, probably shocked that I answered so meanly.
"Please Alfie, I'm your father."
"Yeah, yeah, I didn't mean to..."
"Let me come in, please, we need to talk."
"I don't think so."

I heard him go away. I sighed, then cried.
'Only five years before you're of age', my mind sarcastically noticed.
"Yeah, well fuck you."

I realised too late I had talked out loud.
"Honey ? Are you okay ?" I suddenly heard.
"Yeah, yeah..."
"Who are you talking to ?"
"Myself."
"You told yourself to fuck you ??"
"Again, I'm a 13-year-old girl. I'm in my 'being the weirdest' phase."
"Well, so I would like to understand you more than I actually do. I want to get to know you more than I used to. You're my damn daughter, and I love you...", he finished his sentence in a murmur.
"Dad ?" I quietly whispered, some seconds after he had spoken.
"Yeah honey ?"
"Keep talking. I like the sound of your voice. I like when you tell me these kind of things."
"What ? The truth ?"

At that moment, I knew my choice to live with my father was the right one.
"When I was younger, you used to tell me stories. I want to hear more of them."
"When you were younger, I was so happy to finally have a baby girl, someone who I perfectly understood, and someone who perfectly understood me. Then, your mum took you with her, and as I lost you, I lost hope. The hope to have a daughter. The hope to have someone who I can tell everything to and who won't judge me for the person I really am, someone who will appreciate me for who I truly am, not this fake guy I am round fans. I've never told you this, but... When you were born, I wanted to call you Hope, and your mum refused. I loved that name. I still do. Because you're my hope..."

a/n : hey yall !!
i hope you enjoyed this chapter, cuz i really liked writing it
dont hesitate to give criticism about my writing (english isnt my first language so i feel really bad for you if you have to read a text with many mistakes you know)...
anyway, have a nice day/evening/night
az :)