What Her Dad Doesn't KnowBy: Lila Younger
(Dad's Best Friend May December Romance Novella)
“You own a push-up bra right?”
It’s my first day on the job as a bartender at the Double D Ranch Bar and Grill. I’m trying to stuff my clothes and my purse inside the tiny little foot lockers for the staff but it’s hopeless. I’d been given my outfit the day before when I came to sign the paperwork, but there was no way on earth I was getting on a bus halfway across town in it. I’m pretty sure I was given the wrong size too, because the clothes look like they were meant for a kid. The little denim shorts look painted on to my butt, and the leather vest cuts right beneath my breasts. All the better to show off a tramp stamp or belly button piercing I guess. A pink cowboy hat completes the cliche.
I look up at the server who’s supposed to show me around. I think her name is Mindy or Mandy. She at least looks the part with her flowy blonde locks and the butterfly tattoo at her hip. She seems completely at ease with showing off all that skin. Me, not so much. The manager, a big beefy guy who looks more like a customer than the staff had dumped me with her and took off to deal with some crisis in the kitchen. So much for my training.
“For tips,” she continues. “You’re definitely going to want a push-up bra. Corporate doesn’t say so, but you’re never going to get the good shifts if you don’t show off a little. Customer’s expect it. Victoria’s Secret is having a sale right now. 2 for $40.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say.
She nods at me, as if she’s done her good deed for the day.
“Come on. There’s lots to do.”
I give my purse one last kick so that I can get the door of the locker closed, then I follow her from the break room. Before we head to the front of the house, we pause by a giant floor length mirror. There’s a small table where someone left some hairspray and a makeup case and Mindy/Mandy wastes no time rooting around until she finds a little bottle of perfume. She spritzes some in her hair, then offers it to me.
“I’m okay.” I’m uncomfortable with the idea of just taking someone’s stuff, but she just shrugs and sprays more onto her neck and wrists.
“What’s your name again?” she asks.
“Never heard of that one before.”
“What’s yours again?”
“Melly,” she says. “Short for Melody.”
I don’t say anything, but it doesn’t seem like Melly cares. She’s busy with the hairspray now, throwing her hair forward so she can get as much volume out of the roots as possible. Next she readjusts her breasts in the top, pushing as much of it out the top as possible. I stand awkwardly, trying to do everything I can but watch her. I was a nerd growing up. Braces, glasses, all gangly knees and elbows. I didn’t bother with makeup because I knew there was no saving my looks. ‘You’ll grow into it,’ my mom always promised me. I didn’t believe her until high school graduation, when I’d finally hit puberty and developed my modest curves. I spent high school hiding my nose in a book instead of learning how to talk to a guy and it shows. Not that there was anyone worth talking to.
Except Andrew... I think idly. The image of him, his body hard and strong, his eyes bluer than the ocean, pops into my mind before I can stop it from happening. Andrew was... unreachable. Like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp. I could wish for it for the rest of my life and I knew there was no way we could be. And not just because he’s sex on two legs. He’s older, my dad’s age in fact, and probably only sees me as his best friend’s kid. And who would ever find that attractive? It doesn’t help that even now, I’ve got the round face and the large eyes of an innocent. Maybe that was why I rebelled so hard in my second year of college. I was determined to shrug off my reputation as a good little girl. I really shouldn’t be thinking about him right now though. This is my first day, and I need to focus.
I need this job badly. Because of my need to prove something to everyone else, I lost my scholarship at the end of my second year of university. It was my fault, but I don’t want to tell my mom and dad that. Instead, I got this job. According to Lana, who sat next to me in Intro to Marketing, she could make almost $200-$300 in tips alone on a busy game night. I just need to flirt a little and show off my body. It seemed easy enough when she said it. Now I wasn’t so sure.
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