Daddy's Here(2)By: Lucy Wild
He shrugged, his eyes fixing on someone else. He moved down the queue without another word. I watched him, suddenly feeling suspicious. It was hard to put my finger on anything specific but it was like he was looking for something and whatever it was, I was too difficult a choice.
He found it past the group of women. There was a girl on her own, a girl far too young to be out clubbing. His arm was already sliding round her shoulders by the time I pushed past the gaggle of women, stumbling towards him.
“I’m not interested,” the girl was saying, doing her best to remove his hand from her shoulder. He was much stronger than her and nobody else seemed to have noticed her struggles.
“Don’t play hard to get,” he replied, his voice having a hint of menace to it all of a sudden.
“Get off her!” I snapped, shoving him in the small of the back. It wasn’t a strong push but it caught him off balance, sending him crashing into a group of men who immediately started pushing him back. It looked like a brawl was on the verge of breaking out. I turned to move away but the group of women were still snarling at me.
Stuck with nowhere to go, I turned to the young girl who was already crying. “Thanks,” she muttered. “He grabbed my boob, I didn’t know what to do.”
“I’ll get you somewhere safe,” I replied, praying a fleet of taxis would arrive and solve everything. Todd was already heading back towards us, his shirt torn, his face a mask of fury.
“What, back at the mansion?” He snarled and the women joined in with cackling laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I shouted across to them.
“Just the thought of you living in a mansion.”
“Why’s that so funny?”
“Well, just look at you.”
A car horn beeped and I turned and looked at the source, glad to see my father’s car for the first time in years.
“Oh, look,” Todd called out, reaching for the girl next to me. “A limo’s here. Yours, I presume?” He grinned wickedly. “Don’t worry, she’ll be safe with me, I’ll look after her for you.”
The limo door opened and out stepped one of my father’s drivers. “Time to go,” he said, walking across to me.
It was never good news when my father sent a car to find me. This time though, it meant I could get the girl away from the sleazebag who was still trying to touch her.
“She’s coming too,” I said, taking the girl’s hand in mine and pulling her out of the queue.
I climbed into the car and she followed. The driver got back into his seat, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.
“Take her home first,” I said.
“Your father wants to see you now.”
“He can wait. Take her home first.” I turned to her. “What’s your address?”
“I’m to take you straight to your father.”
“You can go via her house or you can explain to him why you abandoned a child on the streets at five in the morning when his daughter told you not to. Now,” I turned to her again, “What’s your address?”
I closed my eyes as she told the driver who sighed but said nothing.
“Thanks,” she said as the car set off. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t there.”
I didn’t open my eyes, my hangover was already creeping over me and I got the feeling it was going to be a bad one. “Don’t mention it.”
“I’ve never been clubbing before. Is it always like that?”
“Sleazy guys trying to grope you? Pretty much.”
“I don’t think I’ll do it again.”
“Did you go on your own?”
“My friends were supposed to meet me there. I guess they didn’t get in.”
“I guess not.”
We lapsed into a silence which lasted until the driver called back, “We’re here.”
He climbed out and opened her door as she shook my hand. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing it tightly. “Good night.”
“Be safe,” I replied, closing my eyes again as she left. Now that was sorted, I could think about my father. What did he want? Last time it was to tell me my allowance would stop unless, as he put it, I started being more sensible with his money.
What was the point of having a ludicrously wealthy father if you couldn’t spend some of it? Why spend half your life building up a fortune if you were going to grumble when your daughter spent a tiny little bit? It was one of the reasons why I moved out, I couldn’t stand any more of his lectures.
My phone vibrated in my clutch and it took three attempts and four swearwords before I was able to get the bag unzipped. The message was from Ben and I squirmed as I read it. “You’re drunk. Stop texting me and get some sleep.”