“That’s my girl. Ever the team player. Alright, darling. Let’s get going. Nice to see you, Byron.” I grab my purse as my dad places his hand on my back and leads me out of the office. He offers to drive us both, but I insist on taking my own car so I can leave if need be.
As the waiter fills our water glasses and my father orders a scotch, I unfold my napkin and place it on my lap, preparing myself for the lecture I’m about to receive. Even though I want to believe that this lunch invitation was one that doesn’t have an agenda attached to it, history has deemed that to be unlikely.
Here’s the thing. George Matthews doesn’t yell and intimidate his family into behaving the way he wants us to. No. He uses a delicate manipulation tactic that makes you think your way of thinking is always wrong. I’m not saying that my stepfather doesn’t love me, I know he does. He took me in as his own when he married my mother, knowing that her three-year-old daughter was part of the package deal. But after formally adopting me and changing my name to his, he took his role as a father and protector very seriously. He’s adamant about upholding the Matthews name in a certain light, and if something threatens to derail that standard, he’s not afraid to let you know about it.
My father lifts his glass to his lips, but speaks before he takes a sip. “So how are things?” I watch the amber liquid swish in his glass before I answer.
“Um, fine. Good, actually.”
“Have you seen any more suspicious activity around the firm? What about your condo?”
I shake my head, reaching for my glass of water, quenching my thirst as my throat grows dry. “No. But I haven’t been sleeping well again.”
“I’m sorry that my job has made you fearful, Sydney. I can increase your security detail if that makes you feel better?”
“No, it’s fine. I think it was just that case that caused the irrational behavior from the community. But I actually was thinking about doing something to make me feel safer when I’m on my own.”
His eyebrows raise as he waits for me to continue. “Is that so?”
My head bobs up and down in acknowledgment. “Yes. First, I applied for my concealed carrier’s permit.”
“Well, as a resident of the great state of Texas, I’m surprised you waited this long for that God-given right.”
I struggle to refrain from rolling my eyes at the gospel spoken in our state. “Yes. Well, I think I’ll feel better knowing I’m armed at all times. But I was also thinking about taking a self-defense class.”
“All women should know how to defend themselves adequately. In fact, I’m angry I didn’t think of this sooner. I’ll contact Samuel and have him set something up.” He reaches for his pocket and fetches his phone, most likely to text Samuel, our head of security.
My father may only be a judge, but he comes from a very wealthy family that has made a fortune in the oil industry and by managing investments. So when I say we have a head of security, I’m not joking. There’s about twenty different men that tail me, my parents, and my brothers at any given time. And after the threat that was made to my life a few months ago, my personal team has grown by four.
Wanting to stand tall and advocate for myself, I clear my throat to interrupt him. “I actually already found a place.”
“Oh?” he says, as more of a question, shock lacing his voice as he rests his phone on the table. “And where is this place you deem fit?”
I sigh. “Dad. I know you want to protect me, and I love you for that. But I’m twenty-eight years old and am capable of making decisions for myself. You can’t protect me forever.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Sydney.” His refusal to acknowledge my declaration does not go unnoticed.
“The Elite Gym over on Madison.” I cringe, anticipating my father’s reaction.
His jaw clenches as he grits his teeth, displeasure seeping through his pores. “Madison? You mean on the other side of town?”
“Yes,” I confirm, knowing what’s going to come next. “The reviews online were stellar and it would be easy to stop by on my way home from work.”
“So, rather than let my elite team of professionals equip you with the skills to defend yourself, you’d rather sulk into the very community whose gangbangers threatened your life and let them teach you instead?” His skin is turning red from the fury building in his body, a telltale sign that I need to anticipate any unwelcome reaction coming my way.
“Dad,” I whisper, reaching across the table to rest my hand on his, attempting to bring his blood pressure back down. “I need to do this. I need to feel some sort of control in these circumstances. Surely, you can understand that.”
“All I know is that you are my daughter and I want what’s best for you. You may think you can take care of yourself, Sydney. But there are certain protections that money can provide. Andrew’s family can do the same for you.” There it is—the pushpin seeping its way into the conversation that I felt was the intent of this lunch.
“What does Andrew have to do with any of this?” I fire back, leaning away from him in my chair now, preparing to wage this battle for the umpteenth
