To get to him, I need to use her.
I’ll play her like a violin and have her falling in love with me before she even knows what’s happening.
It will be easy. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.
She’s just a girl.
A tool to get what I want.
When I’m done with her I won’t think twice about walking away.
At least, that was what I thought.
Until I met her.
“Something wrong?” I say, trying not to look too interested.
“Nothing. Just my daughter being herself. I know I should be more firm with her, but she’s my only daughter.” He heaves a heavy sigh and I mentally curse. If she’s texting him, then that probably means she isn’t going to be here tonight. Swing and a miss. Again.
“How old is she?” I ask, even though I know. Down to her birthdate.
“Twenty. But she doesn’t always act it.” He shakes his head like a long-suffering father and the fellow across the way commiserates with him. Apparently he and his wife have four daughters (all grown, obviously). I sit and listen, waiting my turn. The comedian on stage is still going, but not many people are actually listening to him.
“Do you have any children, Mr. Brand?” Beaumont says. I shake my head.
“No, I don’t.” I don’t elaborate. “So what’s the issue with yours?” I’m not above brown-nosing to get the information I want. I’m also not above doing anything to get what I want, actually.
“Typical rebellion. I thought she’d gotten it out of her system in her teenage years, but it seems that was just the beginning.” He turns his eyes to the ceiling, as if begging God. Or cursing him.
“Well, I can’t offer any advice on that front. But I’m sure she’ll come around,” I say, finishing my soup.
Author Chelsea Cameron
Chelsea M. Cameron is a YA/NA New York Times/USA Today Best Selling author from Maine. Lover of things random and ridiculous, Jane Austen/Charlotte and Emily Bronte Fangirl, red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world's worst video gamer. When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car and tweeting (this one time, she was tweeted by Neil Gaiman). She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as she is.
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