Chapter 21

I was shocked when Lucas called at night.

"Why are you calling me?" I ask, scrunching my eyebrows at the blue fuzzy socks I'm wearing.

Moulin Rouge plays on TV. It's at the part where Satine tries to seduce Christian, but Christian breaks into a song. The way he looks at her, like she's this precious gem, makes me squeeze the pillow to my chest. She's in a bedazzled lingerie, but he looks at her like she's an angel.

"Just wanted to let you know, that I'll join you for dinner tomorrow." Lucas says on the other end. His voice is deep and it quickens my breath.

"I don't need the favor. It's crossing the line." I decline softly. I really don't want him to convince me on this. The guilt and humiliation of the situation is bad enough. "I know I asked, but I blurt things out that I don't mean. I know that's not an excuse, but-" I shut my eyes with a groan. "This is why... I stick to numbers on an excel sheet."

"Relax, would you? It's me you're talking to. You blurt things out, and I, apparently, don't say enough." He comforts from the other end. "Besides, I'm down for free food."

I laugh. "Yeah, right. You're not the freeloader type."

"Who lied to you? I work for my brother-in-law. I get all the perks without the hassle."

"Yeah, yeah. I've seen you at work. You're tougher than me when you want to be."

"Well, thanks. I'm glad you've been checking me out."

"I have excellent observational skills. Don't flatter yourself."

"I'll flatter myself all I want, mind your own business."

"Are we done?" I ask, a contradicting smile on my lips. I bite them to stop.

"Am I getting fed tomorrow?"

"Lucas..."

"Yeah, say my name."

I laugh again. "Shut up!"

"Jokes aside, I don't mind at all. But I get why you feel uncomfortable. So, let's figure out what you need to not feel so... indebted by my angelic presence."

I take a deep breath, thinking. "You can come on one condition."

Come. Stop. Bad Layla. Stop.

"Continue?" He presses.

My chest gets hot as if he can actually read my thoughts. "In return, you will answer my questions with complete honesty and detail. That way I will compile an analysis on you, and tell you where you should focus. And also! Maybe, maybe you won't even need my analysis. Maybe just talking it out will already help you see things clearer. What do you say?"

"Why is it so important for you to help people?"

"You've already asked me that before..."

"True..."

Silence passes between us. I don't mind it at all.

"What time should I pick you up?" Lucas asks.

"Around six." I murmur. "I'll text the info."

"Dress code?"

"Naked."

"Perfect."

"Bye."

"Bye, Layla."

~

Dad's taking me to a sushi restaurant. But not the authentic kind with cozy service and down-to-earth environment. Of course not. This looks like an American billionaire wanted to look cultured and poured money on stuck-up designers, kidnapped a chef from an actual Japanese restaurant and held his family hostage at the cost of serving him food.

I realize that's a tad bit dramatic. But, that's what it feels like.

Restaurants have energies. And right now, the energy is pretentious and stuffy and a total waste.

"Nice place." I compliment, looking around.

"Isn't it? I brought a client here last year, they loved it." My dad - Samuel - responds. He has one of those smiles that technically looks like a smile, but feels nothing like it.

"Hm, I haven't had sushi in a long time." I nod, looking at the reflective tabletop with sake glasses and bowls of edamame.

"So how long have you two worked together?" My dad points between Lucas and I.

Lucas squares his shoulders slightly. He's in a black button down rolled up sleeves and matching pants. I almost changed when he picked me up. My outfit is black too. A cowl top with dainty straps and high waisted jeans with heels. But I really liked my outfit and didn't want to stress about a new one.

"About four years." Lucas answers. "We oversee the same production team, but I'm more on the field, whereas Layla takes care of our numbers."

"Yeah, she takes after her father with that." Dad tilts his chin up. "I taught her how to budget her allowance when she was ten. Except it bit me in the ass. She started to keep track of inflation and negotiate with me for a raise."

"That's cute." Lucas smiles. I'd glare at him for those words, but something about the way he says them doesn't sound offensive.

"She's always been my little star." Dad continues, as if I'm not even there. It's confusing, whether I should be flattered or not. "I always keep track of her progress. Got to make sure she beats everyone. Including you." He points at Lucas, tone teasingly threatening.

"I have no doubt she will." Lucas glances at his glass then at me. "Isn't that right?"

"I sure plan to." I reply. It takes me a second to snap out of his gaze and clear my throat. "I mean, the promotion is a month away, dad. And I think my chances are looking good."

"I hope you've been working on your communication skills. I know you've always struggled to socialize. You got lucky with Casey, it's hard for tough girls to be liked."

I'm stunned for a moment at his choice of words. Is he... complimenting me? Putting me down? Am I... doing the right thing? Or...?

"I- uh suppose." I chuckle, ignoring the redness creeping on my chest. "I have to act tough if I want to be taken seriously, right?"

While I reach for another shot of sake, Lucas observes quietly, a frown forming on his lips.

"It's not your fault. It's the industry. I'm sure Lucas sees it too." My dad continues. "I bet it's so much easier for him to get recognized, but what can you do? Got to play the system until you win."

I suppose... it's similar to what Lucas has been telling me too. To be tough and all. But... when Lucas said it, it made me feel encouraged. The way dad says it, it makes me feel like shit.

"You're right, it is easier for me." Lucas jumps in, filling my sake glass. "But Layla's doing just fine. I mean, she killed it in the meeting with the Board of Directors. She blew them away."

God. I want to flip this table over and throw my arms around him.

"Wow. That's impressive." Dad says, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "Good to hear, honey."

"Thanks..." I reply, not feeling satisfied by the praise whatsoever.

Forty minutes into it, sake's treating me well. At least to the point of not paying attention to the soreness of my spine nor the clenching of my fists under the table.

The anxiety is there, but the buzz in my head keeps me from noticing it.

"I forgot to ask, how'd you like your birthday gift?" Dad asks, lifting his cup of espresso.

"It was nice. Thank you." I reply, running my finger along my mochi ice cream.

The powdery texture melts under the heat. I lick my finger, for some reason, uncomfortable to indulge in this sweet treat in front of him.

"What was it?" Lucas asks, taking me by surprise.

"Uh... it was a perfume." I lower my voice at the last part.

"Not just a perfume." Dad smiles like I'm being silly. "It was your favorite. Didn't I get you Michael Kors last year too? It's the same one. I figured you've run out."

I don't know if it's the sake, or the fact that Lucas is staring right through me, or the fact that I really want to bite into this mochi, but my eyes start to water.

"Mm." I nod, looking down and praying to all the Gods out there to take this emotion away.

"She used to dress and act like her mom when she was little." Dad talks to Lucas. "She'd spend hours in front of the mirror. Putting on makeup and spraying her perfumes."

"Yeah?" Lucas wonders. "I thought she's more into sentimental gifts. Guess I was wrong."

My heart jumps in front of my chest. My head is a little dizzy.

"Am I?" Lucas asks, this time looking at me.

I look back, unable to fight the frown that's pulling on my lips. Silently, I beg him to stop.

"Why, did you not like the gift?" My dad asks, his prior pride deflated.

I lean back, eyes low. "I appreciate it."

"What's that supposed to mean." My dad chides with a chuckle. "Did you like it or not?"

"Do you actually care?" I murmur.

Dad stays silent for a moment. I can feel the awkwardness and tension rolling off of him. He looks at me like I've humiliated him.

Is this really happening? Are we really doing this right now? My body is pulsing with fire.

"How can you ask that, Layla. Of course I do." He replies calmly, voice collected.

Is he not worried? Is he not affected by the fact that I'm hurt by him?

"Maybe you're tired." Dad offers a smile, setting his espresso down. "Let's get the check, so you can go rest."

"I'm not a child." I blurt. My eyes go wide as the words hang in the air.

"I... didn't say that you are. I just assumed-"

"Don't assume." My voice trembles as I clench my jaw. "Ask, dad. Be curious. You can at least be curious. Don't assume that I'm tired. Ask me, 'Layla, are you tired? No? Then what is it? What's bothering you? Have I hurt you? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.'"

Tears streams down my cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away. I shake my head, laughing at the ridiculousness of this all. "I'm so sorry, Lucas. I'm sorry, this is so awkward."

I rise from my seat to leave. To go to the bathroom and collect myself.

"Sit down. We're not done talking." Dad says.

I stare at him dumbfounded. Offended. Heart splitting in half for the way he's treating me.

"Maybe we should leave." Lucas says, rising to his feet too.

I'm shocked when he places his hand around my waist and brings his lips to my ear. "You're ok. Go wash up, I'll be outside the bathroom."

I must be a fucking idiot, because his misplaced tenderness only makes me rage.

"You know what, dad." I smile through my tears, picking up my purse. "This guy has been nothing but a headache for the last four years. But funny enough, he's also been more caring towards me than you've been my entire life."

"Layla, stop." Lucas whispers, his eyes wide and face pale.

"W-what?" My dad stammers. His expression is almost the same as Lucas's and it brings me so much pleasure.

"You heard me." I bite my lip, fighting to stay firm. "And I get it, this is so inappropriate. But hey, your standards are so high, it's not like I have a chance of meeting them. So. Who cares." I back away and stumble on my chair.

Lucas grabs my arm to stop me from falling. I point at him and look at my dad. "See? This is what I mean. He does this, and so much more. Even though I'm 'socially awkward' and 'not a man.' Well I guess, it's because I'm not a man, that he does this. But you know what I mean."

"Please stop talking." Lucas says, and he's actually pleading. God, am I that bad right now?

"I'm sorry. To both of you. For not handling this better." I turn on my heel to leave. The whole room is spinning and I'm so drunk.

But God, I really want to put my dad in his place one last time.

So I look over my shoulder and nod at them. First at dad. "Dad." Then at Lucas. "Daddy."

Then I go to the bathroom.

-A/N -
Ok, so...progress? In Layla's way? A little? *nervously backs away* (pls vote)