Dad’s Assistant (A)


I only had one word to describe my Dad's house: "Whoa!" Of course I didn't say it out loud, I couldn't let him know I'm impressed, but God! I was deeply impressed. I mean, it was somewhere between a mansion and heaven. The good news is, it's so big, I won't even have to see my Dad's face at all! Talk about a win-win, huh?

There were rows of people in uniforms, men and women who stood to welcome James and I. It felt like a castle where the Royals are being welcomed from a trip.

Dad introduced us to everyone but I was barely listening, I couldn't wait to find out what my room looked like. There was one person I did get her name though; she was an older woman, probably in her early fifties and Dad introduced her as our Nanny. 

"You know I'm fourteen right? Not ten. I don't need a Nanny." I objected, trying not to sound offensive to the Nanny.

"I know, but..."

"No buts, I don't need a Nanny and I can look after James myself, that's practically my job." He looked from James to me, then to the Nanny and back to me.

"You don't have to look after James every moment, that will be Reggie's job. I'm not saying that you can't be his big sister and be there for him; all I'm saying is, you get time for yourself too and do what you want. I'm sure James will love Reggie."

"Yeah!" James exclaimed excited and I gave up. No use arguing about that and besides, for the first time since James was born, I get to think for just myself! I don't even have hobbies and I haven't discovered any talents, it's a good time to do that.


"Great! But you'll have Emma assist you." A younger lady stepped forward, beaming.

"I don't understand. Why?"

"It's a large house, Claire, you'll need sometime before you can navigate around and Emma is good company. She's just nineteen, so there won't be trouble in getting along." 

"I'm beginning to regret my decision." I muttered under my breath and turned to James, ruffling his hair.

"I'll see you later, buddy. Emma, can you please take me to my room?" Emma wasted no time in leading the way. I found myself staring mouth-opened at my surroundings, no longer self-conscious as Dad's nowhere close by.

"It's a beautiful house, isn't it?" Emma said for the first time to me. I liked that her appearance screamed 'friendly'; from her pale blond hair, her nearly grey eyes and her full lips that was permanently stretched in a smile, to her perky body in the fitted uniform; I could already see us getting along.

"If you can call it that." She chuckled, leading up the glowing stairs.

"Of course it's a house, just a really big, really extravagant one. I was thrilled too when I first got here; the only difference is that you live here while I just work here." I was distracted by the huge picture of my parents and I, I was still a toddler. I felt warm inside by just looking at it.

"You were a cute little girl." Emma commented, stopping by the picture. "You still look cute, just that..."

"Just that...?" I pressed.

"It's nothing. You're still cute." Her smile grew more. "We're almost there."

"Emma, you know you can talk freely with me, right?" 

"Urh, okay. Thanks." She didn't look at me.

"Just that what?" I pressed again. She stopped, exhaled and turned to me.

"You look stressed, tired, unhappy. You are a pretty girl, but it's really hard to overlook the melancholy." Wow! She can read a person. Unless Dad told her about... Nah, slim chance.

"But you're with your Dad now, I'm sure you'll feel way better soon."

"Thank you."

"Come on." 

Soon, we got to my long awaited room. It was awesome! It had it's own living room, cinema, games corner, library, a mini golf course, a study room, a five star closet and a princess sized bed! That's way too extravagant! 

It had a lot of pictures from when I was little, as if it was decorated solely for me.

"My Dad looks like a busy man, when did he have time to do this?" I asked, touching a picture of me in my first ballet class; I only attended for a week but it was the best week of my life. Oh, I forgot I had a talent for ballet; at least my teacher thought so.

"He didn't do it."

"Right! He has people to do it for him."

"Actually, Miss Abigail decorated your room herself."


"Miss Abigail? She is your Dad's assistant and I heard they are childhood friends. She is extremely gorgeous with those long, beautiful, smooth legs. She could be a model or anything she wants to be, but she chose to be your Dad's assistant." I stared at Emma. 

"You're making it sound like a bad thing." She chuckled.

"Wait till you see her, you'll understand. Although I heard she was actually born with a silver spoon, I know she isn't working for your Dad because of the money. It could be because they are friends and she is the best at organising and getting things done right." She swayed lightly on her feet as if she was drunk.

"If there's anyone I wish I could have her life, it's Miss Abigail. And she's super nice and polite, it's like she's made of candy." 

Emma went on and on, talking about this mysterious 'Miss Abigail' I just couldn't wait to see. I needed to find out if she's my Dad's mistress; maybe she's the one my Dad left us for. One thing was for sure, I already disliked her.

I was settled on my bed, battling to put down a thriller novel I started reading a few hours ago; I couldn't get my hands and eyes to put it down and go to bed.

Dad knocked on the door and came in after my forced 'Come in'. I looked him up, from his slippers, his sweatpants, his tank top, to his ruffled hair; he looked really good and homey. I wondered how he got so rich, but I had no plans of asking him. I couldn't let him know I was interested, I didn't even want to be interested.

"Reading?" He asked as he settled on my really soft rug.

"Yeah. There are tons of good novels on the shelf, my favorite kind of genre."

"Really?" He looked genuinely surprised. "Abigail chose them. I told her how much you loved to read and she ordered them. If they are your favorite genre, they are probably hers as well."

I shut the book and kept it far from me. Who's this Abigail? Was she doing all that just to win my affection before she let's me know she is my Dad's girlfriend?

I looked closely at Dad, he was saying something about Abigail's love for books. His eyes were bright, too bright for my liking. Did he love her? Is he secretly married to her?

"What do you want?" I interrupted whatever he was saying, letting him know it's time for him to go.

"I wanted to hang with you. I thought..."

"We don't have a relationship, remember? I'm only here because of James. If you want to hangout with someone, go to him; you have four years to make up for anyway." His face fell.

"Claire, if you'd just let me explain everything to you, you'll understand why..."

"I don't want to talk about it. Leave! Go to James, or better yet, go to your Abigail, I heard she's drop-dead gorgeous."

"What does Abigail have to do with this?" He began, paused, studied me, then exhaled. "What's going on in your head? If you have a concern, you can talk to me. Don't assume things." He stood up.

"Your Grandma and Aunt are coming over tomorrow." My grandma? I've always wanted to meet her.

"Look, your grandma isn't really the best person in the world. She adores her family and all but she has a difficult way of showing it. I just don't want you to take everything she says to heart."

I was barely listening. I've always wanted to meet her but my Dad always said no, that we couldn't afford to go. And now I get to meet her? And my Aunt! The way my Dad talked about my Aunt made me picture her as a kind, friendly little princess. She's his younger sister after all.

"Luciana will be coming with her kids. I'm sure you'll love Jacey, she's eager to meet you."

"Yeah, I'm eager to meet her too." I said without thinking and got a smile from him.

"I missed you a lot, Claire. You can't imagine how happy you've made me today."

"Yeah, yeah. Can I get some sleep now?" I rolled my eyes. His smile didn't leave his face.

"Sure. Good night." He left.

Now I couldn't wait to get to sleep and wake up, ready to meet my grandma! I dimmed the lights and got under the covers, willing myself to sleep.

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