Philips (Sequel to De Santa)

Chapter Nine

"Chels, I really think you should reconsider," Dad pleaded.

"Dad, just relax, okay?" I chuckled. "It's just a date."

"Yeah, but dates turn into actual dating and then marriage and then all of a sudden, I'm a grandfather."

"You're really jumping ahead, Dad. It's our first date and we're nowhere near ready to discuss marriage, let alone kids."

"Fine, dating leads to sex."

"And?"

"AND? WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'AND'?"

"Jesus, calm down. I'm more than old enough to be sexually active and I am more than capable of making that decision when, and if, the time comes. And I don't need you or anyone else telling me otherwise. Now, I'm going on this date whether you like it or not and if I find out that you followed me or made anyone else follow me, I swear to God I will go find myself a mail-order husband and flee the damn state. And when I do that, I will produce six kids and send them all to your house for the summer. Do I make myself clear?"

"Alright, alright!" Dad grumbled. "Jesus Christ." Dad watched as I finished fixing my hair. I glanced over at him as he subtly shook his head and looked away, quietly muttering under his breath.

"What now?"

"Nothing."

"No, you've got something to say. So, spit it out."

"Are you really gonna go dressed like that?" I looked over myself with confusion.

"Dad...it's jeans, a band tee, and a pair of Wingtips."

"It just doesn't look appropriate for a date."

"Would you rather me go naked?"

"NO!"

"Then shut up."

"But—"

"Nope."

"Chels—"

"Uh-uh."

"Oh come—"

"Zip!" Dad fell silent. "My date, my clothes choice. As far as I know, we're just going out to get something to eat and maybe see a movie."

"Maybe see a movie?"

"It's between that, going to the pier, or going to the arcade."

"Why can't you just eat here?"

"Why, so you can poison him or play twenty questions?"

"I wouldn't poison him...I might've slipped him something, but nothing that would've killed him."

"Dad!"

"Okay, okay, fine! Go on your stupid date, but you're to be home by eight."

"Midnight," I argued.

"Nine."

"Eleven."

"Nine thirty."

"Ten."

"Fine," Dad grumbled. "And not a minute later." A gentle knock filled our ears and made my stomach flip with excitement. "Well, it looks like your knight in shining armor is here."

"He's a good guy. You'd see that if you'd give him a chance."

"As if," Dad scoffed. I followed Dad downstairs and watched as he reached for the door.

"Dad," Dad looked back at me. "Please, don't act lie a prig."

"A prig? I wouldn't do that."

"Or be an asshole."