Chapter 1

“Daddy, I was naaaa-ughty again!” my daughter put her finger in her mouth and used her cutesy exaggerated baby voice as she entered my study.

“Heather, that tone of voice was cute when you were six!”

“Oh Daddy, I am still cute! Look at me,” Heather smiled coyly and made an adorable face. She was beautiful just like her mother at that age.

“You used that voice to admit you stole a cookie and then promised not to do it again when you were little. Now, that you are 19 it isn’t so cute. I always cringe because I know you are about to ask me for something.”

My eldest daughter was overly-dramatic, and she could act like a cute little bimbo if it got what her wanted. She was normally pretty sarcastic and frequently made wise-cracks and snide remarks – which is what she did after I told her to stop acting so cutesy.

Heather liked to smile – oh god, my daughter had an infectious, charming All-American girl next door smile. She could get people to believe she was an angel, and she loved to laugh just like her mother when Karen was that age.

“Fine, I’ll just come out and demand it. Would you prefer that?” Heather instantly showed me the other side of her. The calculating and stubborn side that had been just beneath that adorable veneer when she wanted something from me.

I sighed. Money – that’s all Heather tended to talk to me about. “Fatherly advice?” I laughed at my own joke that she might be demanding some of that instead.

“Daddy, I just need two hundred dollars to pay my car payment. I don’t have the money this month. I will pay you back. I promise!”

“You work at Hooters, and you should be making great tips, Heather!”

“I am just part time, and guys can be real tight asses. Most of them come in with their wives and don’t want to be seen tipping me, Daddy!”

She only calls me Daddy when she wants something.

“You don’t pay rent. You are on our insurance. You are on the family phone plan. You don’t have to pay for Internet or utilities. You eat our food. You have ONE bill, Heather. Your car note. How can you not pay it?”

“Fine, I won’t eat food then. Will that solve the problem?” Heather argued. She always suggests the most absurd solutions when she is backed into a corner.

“Obviously, I am not going to ask you to stop eating, Heather. You have to get better at budgeting! I do not know how you got here,” I said.

“Me either, I am just the worst,” she smiled a smile that was so innocent it was devilish. “I just don’t want to ruin my credit and get my car repossessed. Then I would have to ask you to drive me every day.”

She knows that when I was younger I made one mistake with my credit. I screwed up and didn’t take my car note seriously. A guy repo’d it right out of my driveway in the middle of the night. I realized then and there that banks didn’t screw around when it came to late payments on cars. It took me years to rebuild my credit and get a decent car. I wanted Heather to eventually move out and be stable. She’d need a car to do that.

“Fine, if I GIVE you this two hundred dollars then I want you to at least wash my car,” I said.

“It’s a loan, Daddy,” she promised.

“Honey, you still owe me from dozens of other loans that I am still waiting on. Let’s just call it what it is. I think you should at least have to EARN it though.”

“Fine,” Heather sighed as if she was forced to accept my gift. “I’ll take your car to the car wash but that’s going to eat up like most of the money, so can I have your credit card?”

“No, you don’t understand. I am not asking you to take my car to the car wash and pay someone else to wash it. I want YOU to wash it, by HAND. You’ll put on a bathing suit, go outside with hose, water, and sponges and wash and wax it. Then you will vacuum and clean it inside. I have everything you need in the garage.”

“Oh my god,” Heather sounded like she was being asked to chop off her own arm. “Why? The car wash can do it faster and better than I ever could.”

“Because if you do not WORK for it, it won’t matter to you, Heather.”

“I don’t even have a bikini that fits! Can you at least buy me a new one?”

This was not going as I had hoped. Heather has become increasingly harder and harder to deal with now that she is “technically” an adult. I say “technically” because according to the law she is legally an adult. However, she still acts like a petulant, spoiled brat. My other three kids are all younger than her and they act more mature than her sometimes.

She is her mother’s favorite though, and I have to admit that I bear some responsibility for spoiling her over the years. I put the down payment on her car as a gift and if I hadn’t done that she wouldn’t even have a car note. I could have used that $2,000 I spent on the down payment to just buy her a decent (but likely unreliable) car.

It seemed to me that she had grown increasingly difficult because as she grows into an adult, she doesn’t respect my authority around the house. She expects everything to be handed to her as if she is still a kid and she doesn’t want to work for it.

“I KNOW I bought you a bikini last year. I remember having a conversation about how you just had to have it for summer and then I do not think you even wore it once. You can wear that.”

“I DID wear it, Daddy!” She insisted. “It was for a bikini contest at Hooters. I came in third, so it was just like a $25 gift certificate.”

“Fine, then you have something to wear to wash my car. You can wash my car, your mother’s car, and then your own if you have time. It’s probably overdue for a wash.”

“I can’t wear THAT bikini in the driveway, Daddy! I kind of pop out everywhere in it,” she chuckled.

“You WORE it to your work in front of perverted strangers. I am sure it will be fine,” I said. My daughter is curvy with big tits. She was a natural to be a waitress at Hooters. You don’t have to be a good waitress, you just have to look hot. As a father, you never want to accept your daughter has grown into a sexual being that attracts guys – but Heather blossomed at an early age.

“Yeah, but Steve and Edgar don’t need a lesson in boob-ology,” she rolled her eyes, suggesting that her two brothers would stare at her.

“As long as it’s not a lesson in proctology or gynecology, I really don’t care if you wash the car topless,” I joked. “I am sure they’ve seen boobs before, and they don’t care what their sisters wear. Now, take your time and do it right because if I see any streaks, or missed spots I am going to make you do the whole thing over. Do you want the two hundred or not?”

“Gah, I can’t believe you are MAKING me parade around in a skimpy bikini to humiliate me in front of everyone just to pay my car note,” Heather was a master-class in drama.

I wasn’t going to allow her to make me feel guilty for being a villain. I did like the idea that she had to work for the money, and if it meant sacrificing a little dignity that was icing on the cake. “Think of it like this Heather, you need to have skin in the game. If I make it too easy for you then next month you’ll come at me for more money. I am not insisting you wear a piece of twine and two band-aids outside. If you wore that bikini to work I am sure it’s nothing people wouldn’t see at the beach. Our entire family has eaten at Hooters before and it’s safe for kids to go there. I am not going to stand here and argue with you this morning. Get it done, or don’t. If the cars aren’t PROPERLY washed by 4pm then the offer is null and void.

She acquiesced in a huff. I took her to the garage and showed her the buffer, and all the stuff she needed to wash the car by hand. It had sat in the garage for years. Me and my wife have been going to automated car washes ourselves for years. “There was a time though when I had to put some elbow grease and my back into washing my car. It gave me a sense of pride and satisfaction for a job well done.”

“You are such a boomer, daddy,” she said. I didn’t even really know what that meant. It sounded condescending.

“Well, boomers have two hundred dollars and non-boomers wash cars if they want it,” I dropped the chamois I was holding at her feet and turned my back on it. I snapped my fingers as I walked away and said “I want to be able to eat off of the hood of my car when you are done with it. chop, chop!”

I didn’t watch my daughter wash the car. Frankly, I didn’t care if she did it or not. She would either do it and then I would keep my word and give her the money OR she wouldn’t, and then we’d cross that bridge. I was only interested in the end result and I wasn’t going to go outside and micromanage her.

I assumed she would miss a spot or two, and I’d decide if I wanted to be a hard-ass or not based on her attitude. I hated it when my daughter tried to snow me by acting all sweet and innocent, but I also hated it when she downright got huffy with me. As long as she put in a decent effort I was willing to give her the money.

She asked for money pretty frequently. She asked way more than any of my other kids, but the rest of them were in high school and didn’t have any real bills of their own either.

My eldest son Steve is a star baseball player. I never worry about him. He can be a little reckless at times but I know that when the time comes he’ll get a job and pay his bills. He may have to live with me after he finishes high school but I expected he’d contribute.

My other daughter Amanda is kind of a tom boy. She cuts her blonde hair short and isn’t as vain as her older sister. I fully expect she will probably join the military and move out on her 18th birthday.

My youngest son Edgar is an unknown. He’s still a Freshman and I think he is obsessed with girls. I’ve caught him more than a few times checking porn on Twitter at the dinner table. I told him every guy looks at porn – they just have to be more discreet about it.

“Mike, what did you make our daughter wear outside?” my wife came storming into my office.

“Karen, I am trying to do some work. It’s just a bikini,” I shrugged. I was lying. I was catching up on my Fantasy Football trades. She didn’t have to know that though.

“What Bikini? She’s naked!”

“WHAT?” the moment my wife told me that Heather was outside naked I hit the roof. My mind instantly pictured her showing off bare-ass outside in slow-motion holding the garden hose while the guitar riff from Mississippi Queen played in the background. Her big tits were bouncing slowly as water cascaded down them just like Phoebe Cates in the swimming pool scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

That would have been exciting if it was anyone except for one of my daughters! I didn’t ask any more questions. I stormed out of my office and out to the garage. Steve, Edgar, and Amanda were outside laughing and heckling their older sister.

She was washing the car with one hand and occasionally flipping them the bird with the other. She WAS wearing a bikini. It was red and technically would have been legal on the beach.

It was also barely covering anything. The top hugged her nipples. There was just a strap except for two small flaps that extended over the nubs. The strap between her thighs covered her slit, but only just. It was obvious to me that my daughter fully shaved her pubic hair – let’s put it that way. The thong disappeared in her bubble butt and gave the impression she was not wearing anything to cover her backside.

“Come to gloat, Daddy?” she pouted.

“She is not NAKED, Karen,” I turned to my wife. Karen had followed me outside while I confronted Heather.

“She might as well be!” Karen insisted.

“Daddy insisted that I wear a bikini, so I am wearing a bikini!” Heather appealed to my wife’s sense of decency by appearing pitiful and even sniffling a single crocodile tear. I couldn’t believe that Karen fell for it, but she did.

“Mike, what are you thinking? The neighbors will see this!”

“Daddy said that it wasn’t anything they wouldn’t see on the beach,” Heather quoted my words back.

“We don’t LIVE on the beach. We live FAR from one,” Karen huffed. “Go inside and change right now,” Karen insisted my daughter change. I didn’t have a problem with that. I didn’t think the bikini would be THAT small.

“But, Daddy won’t LOAN me the money to pay my car note if I don’t?” Heather’s tone was so pitiful that now I felt like a heartless bastard.

“I said I was going to GIVE you the money, but you had to work for it.”

“I am all for making her work for it, but do you think you need to humiliate her that badly?” Karen argued. I hated having an argument with my wife in front of my kids. As a married man, I can tell you that there is never an argument that I am going to win with my wife even if I am right. I am going to end up being wrong. I just never know about what until the end of the argument.

“He wanted me to have skin the game, because I screwed up and didn’t budget correctly,” Heather quoted me again. Dammit, I had said that. It was supposed to be kind of a pun or a joke when I said skin in the game. Women could always twist my words around to suit them – Heather and Karen both.

“I agree with that, you are terrible with money Heather. Every month there is an emergency. I gave you two hundred LAST month for your car note,” Karen said. I didn’t know about that. My wife and I share a primary bank account and then she has her own on the side for sort of funny money. “Go inside and we’ll discuss it later!”

The kids laughed as my daughter bent over to turn off the water. Heather was blushing. I think of her as an extrovert because she’s always been loud, brash and she was a cheerleader before she was a Hooter’s waitress. She can be embarrassed rather easily at times though when things don’t go her way.

She’s only a show-off when she is good at something.

I saw the hint of one pussy lip fall out of the bikini and she quickly adjusted. I acted like I didn’t notice. Karen chided the boys for laughing at their sister as Heather went inside in a huff.

“I am sorry,” I pulled Karen to the side. The kids didn’t care to see us argue anyway. The show was over and they went back to whatever things they do on Saturday. “I just felt like Heather was manipulating me and I wanted her to have to put some elbow grease into washing the cars to earn the money.”

“Yeah, I think we all saw her elbows, and every other place else she could grease, Mike!”

“She told me that she wore that bikini to Hooters. I’m assuming it’s never touched water. She told me she had nothing to wear to wash the car, and I thought she may as well get some use out of the thing since I paid for it.”

“What about a pair of jean shorts or something like that?” Karen offered.

I hadn’t considered that the bikini would be THAT small. It had never occurred to me. As usual, Karen was right though. I said that I would go talk to her. “She’s just getting so difficult to deal with. I thought when she was little she was a handful. Now, I just don’t know what to do. I can’t put her on restriction to punish her when she talks back.”

“That never worked with her anyway,” Karen laughed. “If I had said half of what she says to me and you, I would have ended up over my father’s knee!”

She offered to go talk to Heather, but I said this was my mess and I would clean it up. “We should discuss it together before we give her money,” I said.

“We SHOULD take everything out of her room except for a mattress and work clothes and make her work for it, but we aren’t, Mike. We spoil that kid and she has just gotten worse. She sets a terrible example for the others. I know that, and you know that, but what else can we do? I know you didn’t mean to humiliate her, but I’ll be honest with you.”

My wife leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “If it wasn’t for our kids laughing and teasing her, I probably would have said she had to wash the outside of the house in that ridiculous bikini after she finished washing the car!”

“Really?”

“No, not really,” my wife stopped leaning in close. “But if it taught her to stop being so irresponsible then it might be a damned good lesson!” she chuckled.

I waited for a little while to let Heather cool down before having a talk with her. I had to finish my Fantasy Football trades and I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. I planned to play it all by ear. I am pretty good at thinking on my feet. I didn’t think anything that Heather could say or do would shock me.

She was a party girl in high school. She wasn’t a devil-child from hell that ran away but she liked to have a good time. After high school, she got more and more sassy with us. It’s probably natural that the young monkeys in the pack challenge the head monkey. It’s the head monkey’s job to smack them back down until he can’t anymore so that he remains in charge.

I didn’t want to be ‘head monkey’ but that’s the job of the dad in the family unit. Heather started acting too big for her britches and being snotty. It wasn’t really that surprising, and most people can relate to having a young adult living with them doing the same thing.

The thing is she got even worse and more irresponsible over time. She stopped helping around the house with chores “because she worked”.

Telling her “Your mom and I work, and we do our chores” didn’t register either. She would just reply that this was our house and we’d have to do it anyway if she didn’t live there. It was more trouble than it was worth to argue with her to do chores because she would half-ass them unless there was a direct incentive to do something for us - and once it was done, she didn’t do one thing extra.

About six months ago she started dating some guy. I didn’t like him. He was arrogant, and he drove a Dodge Charger. If I am being honest, I was envious that a young kid like him had a bad-ass car like that. Anyway, surprisingly Heather became relatively decent around the house and even helped out without being asked. She was gone for entire weekends and I thought that it wouldn’t be long before they moved in together and she’d start her adult life on her own.

Unfortunately, they broke up and when that happened, Heather became a distilled version of her old self. She started coming home late with vodka on her breath, smelled of weed, talked back, spent her money frivolously, got snippy and rude with everyone and generally was kind of an asshole. I love my daughter to death – but she can be a real asshole, is what I am saying. You get the picture.