Exposed Obsession

A NEW JOB

Anabelle

"Ana, come downstairs," my father's rough voice calls.

I tie off the long, red braid behind my neck and adjust my top, feeling ready for the day ahead of me. My father doesn't know it yet, but it's my first day of work. While most fathers would be excited for their only child to be launched into the world, he probably won't take it very well.

Even though I'm twenty-three years old, my father, Irving Reese, treats me like I'm twelve. My mother passed away when I was a teenager, which is why he can be so overbearing at times. Nevertheless, his little bird is ready to leave the nest. He just doesn't know it yet.

"In the den, sweetheart," Irving grumbles.

I scamper into his office, lined with mahogany furniture and a thick cloud of cigar smoke. I try to sweep it from the air while my father's assistant, Padgett Myer, stands at my father's side with a thick cigar rolled in his fingers. He offers me a kind, handsome smile. There is something so calming about having him here for the conversation I'm about to have with my father.

"Good morning, sweetheart," my father hums. He regards me with deep black eyes streaked with gray, matching his salt and pepper hair that is combed back with too much grease. "Padgett just told me we have a clear schedule for today. My next shipment isn't due until late tonight. I wanted to see if you and I could spend the day together."

I lean back in the taut leather chair, my fingertips throbbing with pins and needles. "Well, there was something I wanted to talk to you about too, Father."

His brow furrows and he sits up, easily a foot and a half taller than me even while we're sitting. His presence is always thick and looming, much like the cigar smoke hanging in the air around all three of us.

"Is everything okay, Anabelle?"

"Everything is fine," I blurt out, breathless already. "I actually start my new job today."

My father gives Padgett a quick look and his broad-chested assistant walks out of the room at once. He shuts the double doors on his way out, leaving the office in a dim yellow haze with smoke still lingering in clouds before us.

I tense, trying to get ahead of what I know he will say. "I'm twentythree, and I should have a job, Father. It's important for me, too, because I want to have friends, and I haven't really been on my own since high school when Mom . . ."

He tenses and I shut my lips at once, knowing I'm not helping my case anymore. When he finally leans back and forces a position of relaxation, I exhale, watching his hefty tobacco stick come to his pursed, peach lips and then back to its resting position on the desk.

"Sweetheart, you don't need a job. I have plenty of money to take care of you. Besides, you have friends from your school years," he claims with a nonchalant shrug of his hunched shoulders. "Padgett is a good guy. Why don't you be friends with him?"