Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
DEIDRE
“D id Mike call you?” I ask my father right after we sit down for lunch.
“Yes,” Irene, my stepmother, answers. She picks up Vix, my French Bulldog, and puts her on her lap. “Isn’t it wonderful news?”
Shrugging, I say, “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Why aren’t you happy for your brother?” Dad asks.
“I’m happy for him, honestly,” I reply.
“Then…?” Irene prompts.
“I’m not excited about going back.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“Seriously?” I giggle, taking some food that’s on the table.
I love Irene, but sometimes she’s a little dense. She’s a good-hearted person, which is why she and my father’s marriage is the only one I think that will ever truly last.
“You need to stop blaming your mother,” Dad says.
“Why?” I return, trying not to sound snotty. “No offense, Irene. I love you and all, but seriously, Dad?”
“You’re no better than her by holding a grudge,” he claims.
“She’s the one who fucking cheated,” I whine. “She’s the one who aired her dirty laundry for everyone to see and broke up our family…among other things.”
“Language,” Dad corrects.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “And again, sorry, Irene.”
“No worries, sweetie,” she replies with a sweet smile. “I know we have a great relationship.”
“Thanks,” I sigh, happy to know she’s not mad.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Irene get mad. I know that I haven’t seen my father get mad since I found out that he and Irene started dating.
“If I’m able to move on, so should you,” Dad states.
“It’s not you who I’m worried about,” I say.
“What do you mean?” Irene asks.
“Mom’s like one of those fucking ankle biting chihuahua dogs?—”
“Language,” Dad interrupts while maintaining his cool.
“I’ll add money to the swear jar when I get home,” I fib.
I’m not usually a person to use vulgarity this often, but when it comes to things about my mother, it’s kind of a knee-jerk reaction.
The woman drives me nuts. I haven’t spoken to her since Mike’s graduation which wasn’t more than just a hello .
Let’s just say that’s when the swear jar had to double in size.
“Good,” Dad replies, though I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
“She’s not happy unless everyone else does exactly as she wishes,” I continue, talking specifically to Irene.
She knows this about my mother because I’ve told her many times. I remind her whenever my mother comes up in conversation so Irene’s ready for the day when she meets my mother.
“She’s not going to be happy when she finally meets you…the woman who now makes Dad happy.”
“Why would she not be happy that he’s moved on?” Irene inquires.
“That’s how she is.”
“Stop insulting your mother,” Dad says.
“But—”
“You’re half of her, and by insulting her, you’re insulting yourself,” he declares.
“I disagree. Half of my genes may be from her, but we’re nothing alike. We might as well be strangers.”
“Dei.” Dad sighs, shaking his head in disappointment.
“What?”
My father and I have a very good relationship.
I’m a daddy’s girl in so many ways. I’ve always been one since probably the day I was born.
The moment we found out that Mom was cheating on Dad with one of his co-workers was the final blow to break our relationship.
When Dad and I left, Mike stayed behind, not wanting to leave school or his friends.
The fact that my friends were suddenly not my friends anymore, gossiping about the divorce, made it that much easier to leave.
I had no one other than Dad, Mike, and a few of Mike’s friends.
Some days, I believed I lost Mike because of how he’d sometimes defend her.
All of that shit wasn’t easy to take when you’re fourteen. So, I did the one thing I could do to make my life easier. I wiped the slate clean and started over just like Dad.
“I may sleep around , but I’m not a cheater or a liar,” I counter.
Dad’s fork drops out of his hand and clangs against his plate loudly. “Honey?!”
“Sorry, Dad,” I say, wincing and realizing what just came out of my mouth.
“I know about your promiscuity,” he huffs. “It’s hard not to notice it when it’s now being splashed in the news.”
“Most of that is fake,” I remind. “You know that.”
This isn’t the first time Dad and I have had a conversation about the false headlines which started just over a month ago. Before they started, I had to ease into explaining the marketing tactics we would be taking for the app. I know Dad believes me, but it doesn’t soften the blow.
“I know,” he affirms. “But it’s still not easy. Especially, when there are photos and….”
When he doesn’t continue, I say, “It helps with the business. Besides, they’re staged.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Dad claims, trying to either assure me or himself.
I look down and fiddle with the food on my plate. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t like it when we don’t see eye to eye, which is rare for us. We click great with everything—except the topic of my mother and some of the things necessary for business.
“How’s the app business doing?” Dad asks, politely changing the subject.
“Good,” I sigh. “Really good.”
I’ve always been good with computers. When Dad and I moved to the Valley from the Bay Area, well before the divorce papers were signed, I met some computer geeks in high school through my new best friend and now roommate, Mandy.
One of those geeks was Mandy’s brother, Ryan, who got me into coding.
Over the years, we all learned how to write code as well as other things.
Most of us have either gotten jobs at major tech companies or have started our own.
Ryan has made a name for himself with a picture editing app called Hot Pix, has consulted on several others , and is already getting ready to launch another one in the next month.
“We know that the official launch party was recent,” Irene says, beaming with excitement.
“I know,” I huff with a forced smile. “Once I knew what Victoria had planned, I knew it wasn’t your scene .”
“Scene?” Dad repeats with a chuckle.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know they still used the term,” Dad muses.
I sigh, happy to see that he’s not mad.
“Did you share the good news with your mother or brother?” he asks.
“Mike, yes…she-devil, no.”
“Dei,” Dad chides.
“Please don’t start with me about this,” I request.
“I understand,” he claims. “But she’s still your mother. You should try to resolve things with her.”
“You and she have never resolved things,” I remind. “Besides, how do you know that she’s willing to try to resolve things?”
Dad glares at me.
“Any other cool ideas you’re working on other than Flirt ?” Irene asks.
“I’m mulling over a few,” I say. “One is ready for pre-flight, but it’s very different from Flirt , so it probably won’t happen anytime soon.”
Dad picks up his glass. “Why is that?”
“Because Victoria wants something that will piggyback off of Flirt and can be related to it easily, making her job with PR and marketing easier,” I explain.
“That sounds like a good thing,” Irene comments.
“It makes business sense,” Dad agrees. “But, it is your company, not Victoria’s.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “But…I don’t know. The two things that can kind of go with it don’t really have me excited like Flirt did…does.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for the success I’ve already had with Flirt.
It’s just the demand of my time for all of the marketing and promotions that is draining.
Each week, there’s more to do, places to go, people to shake hands with.
My days and weeks run right into each other.
If I didn’t push, I wouldn’t be here seeing my father right now.
“So, how does Flirt work exactly?” Irene asks sweetly.
This isn’t the first time Irene has asked inquired about my app.
I’ve always avoided answering the question for a long time and for many reasons.
Even when I was working for another company, they knew I was working on my own project.
Discussing someone else’s app was easy, but discussing the inner workings of Flirt , not so much.
For starters, it’s not easy describing to your father and his spouse that your business pertains to people looking for a booty call.
It’s also tricky to present how the technology works.
I know Irene is being polite, but I don’t think she understands the concept of the app and most technology.
Her eyes glaze over when I explain even the littlest bit of information about anything tech-related.
She still has a flip phone, if that gives any bearing on her relationship with technology.
In the beginning, the first few months my app did well—better than expected.
To keep the momentum going, I had to hire some new staff and change over to Victoria’s services to better serve my marketing, advertising, and branding needs which has helped tremendously.
Because of Victoria’s services and the recent re-launch which included an extravagantly wild party, the app’s use has increased exponentially.
The only downside of the new sales tactic is that it involves me being in the spotlight.
The plan with Flirt was to get it going and within a year or two, to be able to launch my next project.
“It’s not an app for married couples,” I say, hoping Irene will become disinterested.
“I’m just curious,” she replies. “I know you’re not really interested in knitting, but you ask because you care.”
“I know,” I giggle nervously. “Sorry. It’s just…I don’t think you’ll get it if you’re not in the single mindset.”
“Try us,” Dad challenges.
My body cringes as I swallow hard, realizing that they’re not going to let this go. “ Flirt is a casual dating app,” I preface, watching for their reaction. “It’s for people who want to find a short-term relationship.”
“How short term?” Dad pries.