Downhill

5

There is no way he heard me, right? I mean I wasn't actually dead or dying. Which in retrospect was unfortunate.

I did feel like a kid getting punished as he took my arm and marched us to the locker room. He simply told me to meet him in the lobby after I dressed. And I could only nod.

I mean he was only using the word I called him: daddy. It wasn't some sex-thing. And he likely wanted to punish me for siding with the people thinking I was his daughter. But come on - he does have a daughter my age. It wasn't preposterous.

Although, if I was his daughter, I would have preferred some of his height. My own father was only 5'7" and hence my 5'4" stature. Liz was lucky at 5'11".

My dumbass friend, Liz, packed me a dress that only could be described as a club dress. Or a hooker dress, if you like a little accuracy with your mortification. Nothing left to the imagination was an understatement considering the mid-thigh length and deep V neckline. Luckily it had long sleeves so I didn't freeze to death. But that was its only saving grace.

And of course her father was also a dumbass because he still scolded me for the inappropriateness of it. The time driving to the restaurant was an extended version of "I'm going to turn this car around."

The host noticed the dress almost immediately, but instead of him playing the daughter hand, he went with the Mrs Harris bet. Now I felt like some sugar baby tartlet.

And did Jacob correct him and get pissy? No. He just went with it and let me play the part of his wife for the three minutes we spent with the host.

"You could have corrected him," I nearly hissed after the host walked off. "He thought I was some brainless twit after your money. You didn't take offense to that?"

"Better than my daughter," he shrugged. "Especially in that outfit."

"You daughter wears worse!" I did hiss this time. "And this is her dress!"

He seemed to laugh at my distress. So I picked up my menu and ignored him until the waiter arrive.

"What can I get you to drink?"

Before Jacob could order for me, I spoke up. "Gin and tonic, please."

Jacob looked at me like I lost my damn mind. So I gave him a smirk.

"Well, I was going to order your best champagne, but I will have a double scotch neat. Whatever top shelf you have will do."

Dang, I love champagne. Whatever. At least I got to order for myself.

For dinner he tried to order me the salmon, but I changed it to the scallops. His response to that was simply "anything the lady wants."

Uh huh, if that was the case, I would be riding him like the mechanical bull likely in one of these local bars.

We chatted very little since I was still pissy about the champagne and the sugar baby bullshit. It didn't help that some fake-tittie blonde approached the table.

"Jacob! So funny running in to you here! And this must be your daughter. So lovely!" She said giving me a fake smile that I returned in kind. She turned back to Jacob. "Are we still on for Friday?"

"Um, I don't know..."

"Oh come on, daddy," I said in a sickly sweet and whiney voice. "Go out this Friday! You don't have to entertain me all the time!"

The look in his eyes resembled the look he gave back at the tubing hill. His jaw was ticking again and I'm pretty sure he was planning my murder.

"Aw, you are so sweet," the blonde said to me with a condescending smile, like she would inevitably be my mom if she was successful in her quest.