Brazen Tricks - Ali Dean Page 0,14

prez, big brother, even son when we join his parents later that night. I’m just about to comment that we’ve managed to avoid encountering any more Camila/Donnie type guests, when I spot Beckett’s dad beelining in our direction.

Chapter Six

Beck

Jordan tugs on my arm and I look down at her. “What’s up?”

“Did Griff invite your dad?”

“No, why?”

“He’s here.”

My eyes snap up to look in the direction where Jordan flicks hers. Sure enough, my father is headed for me. I wouldn’t put it past him to show without an invite, the entitled jerk he is, but I note the woman beside him. Vienna, my agent. Griff’s agent, or former agent now that he doesn’t compete. Did she invite him? I know they both live in the same city not far from Jay Beach, but the odds of them running in the same circles seems low. Or maybe not.

My dad’s been recognized as one of the top plastic surgeons in the state, maybe even the nation, I’m not sure, for years now. I’ve seen his name and even pictures in magazines. Because of that recognition, he’s expensive and has an exclusive clientele. It feeds his ego when he treats celebrities, and sometimes he even manages to wiggle his way into their social circles. They both live in one of the most celeb-heavy suburbs of LA. It’s completely possible Dad’s new lady friend is my agent.

My good mood threatens to turn as my mind accepts what’s happening here.

The man knows full well he’s not welcome tonight, but no one watching would suspect it with the way he approaches us. “Beckett, it’s good to see you.” He also knows I won’t make a scene at such an important event, and goes in for a hug.

“Marie, Marco, nice to see you both,” he greets them with that same entitlement and arrogance that makes me feel a little sick. It’s not that I never noticed it before, but at some point over the past year or so, I’ve stopped making myself tolerate it. Stopped trying to convince myself he’s anything but what he’s so clearly shown me he is: a self-involved jerk.

My mom plays along, responding politely. She accepted long ago what he is and while seeing her ex-husband is never exactly pleasant, she doesn’t get rattled. They’ve run into one another plenty over the years, usually because of my skateboarding competitions, and as far as I can tell, Mom doesn’t let him get to her. She does seem to be eyeing him suspiciously tonight though, probably noting my annoyance at seeing him and wondering how he got in if he wasn’t invited.

Dad turns to Jordan. “Great seeing you again, Jordan. How have you been?” Instead of shaking her hand he wraps both of his around one of hers and gives it a pat, conveying she’s extra special.

“I’m fine.”

Vienna finally gets the nerve to address me. “Beck, I’ve been trying to call you all week,” she says. “I guess now that I’ve got you in person I can tell you that I’m here with your dad.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She looks flustered, and I try not to jump to conclusions, but damn. What is she doing with him? Vienna’s not only a good decade or two older than Dad’s usual women, but she’s also smart, savvy, and got her own thriving career. So, not his type.

Vienna asks how everything is going tonight, and engages my mom and step-dad, whom she met once before years ago. I’m only half engaged myself because Dad has turned to Jordan for some private discussion. I hear him apologizing for the photos from the wedding, explaining he now understands from Vienna just how much havoc they wreaked. He doesn’t understand though, not really. Those pictures made the minor trolling and spiteful comments go from tolerable to unendurable. It’s what caused my girl to take a crash that sent her to the ER, had her out of college a semester, and even made her break up with me. We’re still wondering when or if there will be more backlash from that. Suddenly, I’m not feeling like I can fake my way through this and hold it together for Griff’s sake. When I turn and see Dad’s hand on Jordan’s shoulder, false sincerity on his face, I see red.

“You know what? I’m not doing this.” I grab Jordan’s hand and practically rip her away from my dad. If I thought I’d resolved everything with Dad by shutting him down on one phone call,