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Heather has been bad, very bad. Can she turn over a new leaf?
This story was written as an entry for the Summer Lovin' Contest.
All characters in the story are at least 18 years old.
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"I just can't stand him!"
"Now Heather, he IS your father. Have a little respect. Things are hard for him right now; just try to keep the peace," her mother replied from 1100 miles away.
"When are you coming home?" Heather whined.
"Not until the end of the month. It's a great job and we need the money right now. And to be brutally honest, young lady, I don't need the added stress."
"He won't let me do ANYTHING!" Heather continued.
"Then stop screwing up and get in his good graces. I don't have time for this right now honey. Just obey your father, and try to be good for a while..."
Heather hung up on her mother, and screamed in frustration as she ran up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. If she expected that to somehow make things better, she was sorely mistaken.
Ever since her mother had gotten the contracting job in Manhattan for the entire month of July, life had been miserable.
Under the best of circumstances, Heather and her father barely communicated. Her mother was the glue that held the family together, such as it was.
Now that her father had been laid off after 22 years at the same job, he was even harder to put up with.
Summer was usually a great time. With the parents gone each day she got to sleep in, lie around the pool, hit the mall, gab on the phone, and just do whatever she wanted.
Not this year. Within the first week of summer vacation, she'd lost her cell phone privileges when her grades showed up in the mail. It wasn't her fault the science and history teachers didn't like her. And she had managed to pass both courses. By the skin of her teeth.
The whole party incident the next week could hardly be blamed on her. She had intended to leave before midnight, as she'd promised, but Derek and Rob had taken her car keys and wouldn't give them back until she joined them in a round of shots. Ok, a few rounds. Fine. And a few games it was probably best her parents never found out about. Figure in another 10 minutes just to find her bra. What? Was she supposed to just leave behind a $40 bra? And it was ridiculous that cops could park outside of a party and try to trap drivers when you're only driving like 4 blocks away! When her father finally picked her up at the police station, that was the end of car privileges for the summer.
Of course, if her stupid friends hadn't pushed the patio table into the pool, she wouldn't be stuck at home alone all day, with no visitors allowed. Alright, maybe she shouldn't have dared them, but who would have guessed they would be such idiots to really do it. Or that it would be so damned hard to get the stuff out the next day. Or that they would leave rust stains on the bottom of the pool
Damn! This was supposed to be the best summer of her life. She was finally 18, and would be going off to college in September. If she could finally get one to let her in, that is. She'd just die if she had to go to DCCC. Community college was for losers.
Heather looked at her svelte form in the mirror. She was 5'4" tall, and weighed exactly 108 lbs that very morning. She had long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a body most women would kill for. Jaw dropping 34D breasts, a 22 inch waist, and 32 inch hips turned heads wherever she went. Which was nowhere for the moment. Damn her luck. What a waste.
* * *
Harold Payne was pacing his office, oblivious to his daughter's tantrum. He had bigger things on his mind.
Getting laid off after 21 years wasn't that bad. He had a good pension, and he'd worked a lot of overtime in the previous two years, upping his final wages. He'd gotten a decent severance package on top of that, 2 weeks pay per year of service, and had immediately applied for unemployment.
For once in his life, he had the time and the means to do what he wanted to do. He didn't need to look for a new job yet; he could wait until the end of the summer.
He'd always wanted to get involved in local politics, and with things the way they were, it was more important to do that now than ever before. He'd been active in the union, and people had always told him he was a convincing speaker.
He stopped and admired his physique in the mirror. At 42 years old, he could easily pass for 30. Barely a hint of gray hair, hardly a wrinkle on his face. At 5'6" he was average in height, but his running and yoga kept him lean, and his vegetarian diet kept him healthy. Harold smiled at his reflection. His wife, Janice, had nothing to complain about.
No need to rush things, however. He'd worked hard for over 20 years. He deserved a little break. And his new computer was opening all kinds of new vistas to him. A couple of weeks of R&R, especially with his wife off of his back, everyday checking on his job hunt progress. And he had a little 'fund' the wife wasn't even aware of - his vacation and sick pay came in a different check, that she'd never even seen. Sitting in a brand new bank, with a brand new ATM card, and a brand new mailbox that received the bills.
Of course the cloud hovering over the whole situation was his irresponsible hellion of a daughter.
Decisions, decisions.
* * *
"Heather?"
"What?" her voice let him know this was a horrible time to interrupt her, in the middle of a TIVO'd episode of Sex & the City.
"You're not just going to sit around and do nothing all day, every day. With your mother gone, we both have to pick up the slack. I expect you to do the laundry, keep the place generally neat and clean, and do the dishes."
"Jesus! Do I have to do everything with Mom gone?" Heather griped.
"I'll deal with the shopping, the cooking, the trash, the yard, and house maintenance, and, oh yeah, the bills. Breakfast and lunch, you're on your own, but I'll take care of Dinner. Got it?"
"Fine. Whatever." She said, turning away and taking the show off pause.
Harold ignored the blatant disrespect, and returned to his study where he carefully unlocked the door, and locked it behind him.
Finally. His sanctuary. The one place where he had a little privacy and didn't have to listen to the bitching and moaning. He turned on his computer, entered his password, and opened his browser. Time for a little well earned relaxation.
Heather wasn't too worried. Her conniving little mind was already hatching a plan. A bad plan. But she was a bad girl, after all.
* * *
When her father went out shopping, warning her to get the laundry started if she didn't want to lose some more privileges, she was up from her perch in front of the TV like a sprinter out of the blocks.
She ran and dumped an armful of clothes in the washer, and turned it on. There. Now he couldn't complain.
Then she headed straight for his 'study'.
She giggled to herself as she pulled out her keychain and quickly unlocked his door. When he'd installed the new lock on his office several months ago, she'd taken the packaging out of the trash and headed down to the hardware store. The guy at the key machine was happy to make a key for her, based on the code of the tumbler.
She'd be damned if she'd let him keep a locked room in the house without knowing what was going on there.
The computer was a different problem. She'd tried guessing at his password but no such luck. A few minutes online with some friends and acquaintances and she had a couple of new approaches lined up. Now was her chance to test them.
Expecting to be working at this for a while, she was amazed when the very first suggestion worked. Hitting the 3-finger salute at the login screen popped up a login window. She entered "administrator" as she'd been told, without a password, and - miracle-of-miracles - she was in, with full access! Two minutes later, following the instructions on her cheat sheet, the administrator account had a password, her password, and she had unlimited access.
She pulled out the USB flashdrive, with all the software she'd been given for this task, and ran the first two. Just like that his entire Internet browser was backed up to her little device. Another click and she was running her own browser, with all his bookmarks, history, saved passwords,
Now to see what the old man was up to....
* * *
"OH, GROSS!" she exclaimed, actually turning away from the screen. She'd been able to bring up his browser and visit the sites in his browser history. THAT was an education.
She was getting nervous, he wouldn't be gone much longer. She shut down everything, pulled her flashdrive and shut things down. Locking the door behind her, her mind was still reeling with the new found knowledge.
There had to be a way to use this. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a bad summer after all...
* * *
Harold was pleasantly surprised by his daughter's new behavior. She'd accepted her responsibilities, performed her chores without complaint, and was able to converse without obvious condescension.
She'd also started taking care of herself again; cleaning up each morning, and wearing nice clothes, not sweats and dirty t-shirts. He wondered what had gotten into her.
For the past few days, she'd slowly cleaned up her act. She still could be slow to respond to his questions, and she'd put off her chores until the last minute, but they were getting done. She'd even stopped whining about how bad her life was.
The change was so noticeable, he'd even brought it up with his wife on her nightly call. Janice's suggestion had been to give he room and show a little appreciation. He thought he'd give it a try.
Over lunch, which they'd eaten together for the first time he could remember, Heather confessed.
"I'm sorry, Daddy. I've been thinking about things, about my future, and I've really been messing up. I'm going to try to do better."
Harold was slightly taken aback. "You haven't been that bad, nothing we can't recover from. I'll help you in any way I can, you know that."
"I know. Lynn's been telling me that I'm spoiled rotten. She'd never get away with the stuff I've done. Last time she got home past her curfew, she could barely sit the next day."
Harold found his palms itching. Lynn? Barely sit? Jesus. That's a dream come true.
"I've always thought she was the best of your friends, Heather." What he really thought about the little waif was not something he'd willingly share.
Heather got up and cleared the table, then returned and stood beside her father, leaning back against the table.
"Daddy? Do you think that something like that might help me?" She asked quietly, her head bowed.
"Like what?" Harold asked.
"Punishing me when I'm bad. Not just take things away, but... you know, like Lynn."
"I'm not sure I do. How is Lynn punished?" He asked, intentionally obtuse.
