I find him down in the basement, drinking beer, watching a basketball game on the giant TV.
“Hey, Daddy?” I say, using that cutesy tone of voice, the one so he knows I’m going to ask him a favor.
He doesn’t even look away from the game. “Hrm?”
“You know that road trip my friends are going on?” I perch on the couch, opposite the recliner he’s in. I catch him sneaking a glance at my tank top — I’m showing a fair bit of skin, and I’m not wearing a bra.
“What about it?” he says, returning to the TV.
“Well,” I say, “I was really, really looking forward to going, but Mom’s saying she’s not going to let me.”
“Ok,” he grunts, “So?”
“So I was hoping you’d help me convince her otherwise.”
“You for real?” he says, “Summer, do you really think I’m going to be able to convince your mother to change her mind?” He’s right about that, Mom is fiercely stubborn. But if there’s one person who can persuade her of anything, it’s him. He did it two years ago when, after four long years of dating, he talked her into relenting and finally marrying him. He continues, “Even if I could–”