Nudity For Fun and Profit Chapter Fifteen: Daddy’s Girl

“You alive in there?”

“Just a second,” I call out, grabbing my bathrobe from over the chair next to my bed. “I’m not dressed.”

Heloise opens my bedroom door and walks right in. “Give me a break,” she whispers, her eyes boring into mine. “People see you naked every night.”

Okay, so she’s mad at me. And she’s making it really obvious.

“What’s up your ass?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer my question. Instead she hands me the phone. “It’s your mother. She wants to know why you’re not at work.”

My eyes widen. “She might have just heard you, genius.”

“Don’t worry, I had her on mute,” she adds, tossing the phone onto my bed.

“Wait, Heloise…”

She walks away, slamming my door behind her. I pick up the phone and touch the mute button. “Mom?”

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything all right?” My mother’s voice is worried. “You’re not sick, are you?”

I throw a pillow on the floor in exasperation and stomp on it. I meant to call my parents last week with some sort of story. I wanted to do it before my mom called me at Winston Global again. I was stalling, because I couldn’t think of anything good to say. And I didn’t think I would be dealing with this so soon. But as I tack off the days in my head since I quit the company, I realize that it’s been a week already.

“No, Mom, I’m not sick at all. Everything’s fine.”

“Another girl answered the phone at your company just now,” my mother says. “She told me she’d never heard of you. What’s going on?” She lowers her voice. “You didn’t get fired, did you?”

“Of course not.”

She sighs with relief. “Thank God.” Then she says, “I didn’t mean it that way, Alicia. I knew that would never happen to you. You’re far more responsible than that.”

Yeah, mom, that’s me. Uber-responsible Alicia. I’ve really got my shit together – I’m a spreadsheet on two legs.

“So what did happen?” She wants to know. “Why aren’t you at work? Who was that other girl?”

“That would probably be the new receptionist,” I reply. I take a deep breath. “I… quit Winston Global last week, Mom. Things weren’t working out too well over there.”

“I guess they must not have been, if they replaced you with a receptionist.” My mother sounds sympathetic. “Is the company downsizing?”

She likes to pretend that she understands the corporate world.

“Something like that.”

“Well, these things happen, honey.” She’s more cheerful now. “With a resume like yours, you won’t have any trouble finding another job in marketing. But why didn’t you call and let us know?”

“Oh, you know, mom… I didn’t want to worry you. Also, I’ve been really busy.”

“I’ll bet. You’re probably going on interviews every day, aren’t you? That business school is the best investment your father and I ever made in your future.”

“Actually, I’ve already got a new job,” I say.

“Well, that’s fantastic!” she exclaims. “When do you start?”

“I’ve already started.”

“… Oh.” My mother is confused. “Well then, how come you’re at home right now?”

I exhale, closing my eyes. “It’s an evening shift,” I admit.

“What kind of business has evening shifts, sweetie? …Oh, I guess some law firms do, don’t they? Are you working for a law firm?”

“No, mom. I’m bartending.”

“Alicia, are you joking?” My mother sounds crestfallen. “You’re a bartender now? With a degree from Stern? My daughter spends her evenings in the company of drunk, obnoxious men?”

Sure do, Mom! And sometimes they touch me.

“Mom, calm down. It’s only temporary. I’ll find another day job soon.”

I lay a sweaty palm across my forehead. If this is my mother’s reaction to bartending, then I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if she found out what I really do for a living.

Her voice loosens a little. “So, how does this work, then? Are you going on interviews during the day?”

“Of course,” I lie, hating myself.

“Anything promising?”

“Mom, it’s been a week.”

“I knew you should have started grad school right away,” she says. “Have you thought about when you’re planning on going back?”

“Not really.”

This is typical of my mother. If my father wasn’t so good with money, the two of them would be steeped in debt for the rest of their lives. She just isn’t realistic about how much things cost. Even if I wanted to go back to school, where does she think any of us would find the money? I’m lucky if I can ever fix what I’ve done to my own credit. And my parents have to pay for my brother to go to Princeton.

I guess I know which parent I inherited my fiduciary deficiencies from…

My mother sighs again. “Do you need any money?”

“No, Mom. I’m doing all right.”

She’s a nurse practitioner at a non-profit women’s clinic. I’m probably making more money than she is right now.

“How’s your job, Mom?” I ask, hoping to take the focus off me.

“Just fine,” she says. “I have the afternoon off today. Oh! Your father just walked in. He wants to say hello to you.”

“Just tell him that I said—”

She gives him the phone before I can finish.

“How’s my baby girl?” My father crows. “Out in the big, bad city all by herself.”

Daddy, you have no idea.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Your mother said you weren’t at work today. Everything all right?”

I can’t go through this whole conversation a second time.

“Dad, I quit Winston Global, I’m bartending in midtown Manhattan, and I swear it’s only till I find something better,” I blurt. “Mom’s freaking out. Please don’t you start worrying about it too?”

My father laughs. “Calm down, honey. You know that your mother has a tendency to overreact. I have nothing but confidence in how resourceful you are. You’ll get a real job in no time. Probably going on interviews already, right?”

“Right.”

I am pond scum.

“Good girl.” He pauses. “I hope you find something soon, though. You don’t want to have to explain a big gap on your resume.”

“There wouldn’t be any gap at all,” I contradict. “I have the bartending job.”

“Of course, but you can’t list that.” He laughs again. “You know, I bartended for a catering company one summer when I was about your age. They made me wear a tuxedo. Have you had to serve champagne at your job yet?”

“Not yet,” I say, thinking about the VIP room.

“Champagne can be tricky,” my father says. “There are so many rules for doing it right.”

I can’t handle this anymore.

“Dad, I have to get going.”

“When are you coming to visit us again? Your brother really wants to see you. We all do. Maybe take the Metro North up one Friday and spend the weekend sometime soon?”

“Sometime soon, Dad. I promise.”

“Do you need any money?”

“No, thank you. I’ve got it all under control.”

“My little girl is all grown up now,” he teases.

“Dad, quit it. I’ll talk to you soon,” I interrupt.

“I love you, sweetheart. Go kick some butt out there, okay?”

I am the worst daughter on the face of this earth.

“I love you, too, Dad.”

Continue reading:

« Previous: Next: »
Bookmark and Share

Leave a Reply