Chapter 2 Don't Defy Me

Daddy issues

I held a slim white piece of paper letting it waver in the door way as I close it. Letting go I can just make out the tip of the paper peeking out from under the handle. I cringe a bit at the air of insecurity and paranoia that always floats around me where ever I go. 

One step was all it took to send me crashing.  My legs flew above my head as my upper back hit the floor first. The satchel ,following me, fell on my stomach leaving me breathless. It hurt, but the computer was safe at least. From the end of the hall I could hear the echo of a Japanese accent.

"Careful! Wet floor!"

I let my head drop to the cold, wet, marble. No kidding. Getting up by clutching onto a stool with a purple flowery vase on it, I was able to stand on two feet, barely.

From the end of the hall an old Chinese lady (though she insists she's Japanese) came scurrying towards me. With wrinkled hands she grasped my arm.

"Are you OK miss?"

Yuki has been with us for a long time as our maid. I have more photos of her holding me when I was a baby then I do of my parents. Of course, that means she knows of my situation; and despite dad repeatedly telling her not to cal me miss anymore, she refuses to listen. He could fire her whenever he wanted to, but I like to think that even in his antarctic heart, he has a small spot for Yuki like we all do. This includes dad, mom, Francis, Peter, and me. Yuki is like the grandma you always hoped to have.

" I'm fine Yuki," I say while finally achieving some sort of balance. Oddly enough she doesn't seem at all bothered by the slippery floor. When I glance at her shoes I see why, under the soles are old scratchy towels. I'm shaking my head in amazement when a thought pops into my head.

"Yuki, why are you cleaning this early?" Her eyebrows raise a bit and she clasps her hands together.

"Don't you know? Your otosan is having guests today."

She must of seen a look on my face she didn't like because right after she says that she comforts me.

"Miss, don't worry I hear it is only for dinner."

A groan escapes my thin lips. Dinner is worse. It means dad wants me there. 

Rubbing the crease on my forehead I tell Yuki goodbye. Walking to the stairs was difficult , but I don't think anything as small as falling could compare to the monster down stairs.

When I entered the kitchen I settled the satchel beside my chair. Eggs, bacon, fruit, milk, and dad reading the newspaper was what made up breakfast. Since mom wasn't in the living room (though I don't think anyone really spends time there besides mom) my best guess would be that she's at the salon probably getting a perm or something for the guests in the afternoon. From across the table I could hear a rustle and a clink and I knew that we were going to start our routine.

Finished any assignments?

"Finished any assignments from your classes?" He asked with a face as blank as a wall .

"Just finished a project on business growth", Was what I murmured.

Keeping your grades up?

"Excellent. Keeping your grades up in all your classes?"

"Yes."

Why not do a sport?

" If that's so then I'm sure you could handle joining a sport's team on the side. Your young and athletic. There probably many that would want you on the team."

" I'll think about it."

Now that our routine was finished, I grabbed my fork and stabbed some eggs that Francis probably cooked before going out to the garden.

"Have you talked to Melissa lately?"

I didn't expect that. My fork stopped halfway to my mouth and the egg on it fell back onto my plate. A silence so thick it almost chocked me built a heavy wall between us, so I finally answered.

"No."

He grunted and went back to his bacon chewing it in the silence that remained between us. Is that all?

"Why do you want to know?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

For the first time since I entered the kitchen, he looked at me. It was a steady gaze we both held with the green eyes we both had, we were watching for one of us to make a move. He moved first.

Laying his fork at the side of his plate, he put both his elbows on the table and laced his hands together laying his chin on them. I had seen this pose many times in his meetings. 

" You know the Kouner family, don't you?" Was he joking? Of course I knew them. The president of The Kouner Family Foundation was an old friend of his. 

"Yes."

"Then you know their daughter Melissa?" Melissa and I met when we were thirteen. It was two years after my change. Melissa was, I knew, someone I would have loved to be friends with. She was kind, and she liked pink and frilly things. Just like me, just like how I was. She, I remembered, tried really hard to be my friend. But I wouldn't talk to her, I was the one who always made things awkward between us. One day she suddenly stopped coming. I wonder why?

"Yes." My forehead wrinkled up in confusion. Still, why would he bring her up?

"Her older brother Jack was just announced as their heir last week."

"Is that so?" OK...

" He will be taking over as president soon as a test to prove he's ready. His parents are allowing him to choose a counselor from one of the major families. The counselor he chooses will most likely have an impact on decisions he will make. This will affect our family since we have a long lasting relationship with them. It is no mystery that many of the other families would like to squirm into their lists of favorites while also taking out our family in the process." When he finished, he didn't move. His eyes a deep murky green narrowed, sending unpleasant shivers down my spine. Figure it out, he seemed to say. When I said nothing he leaned back into his chair but still stared at me with the same eyes.

"I heard Melissa is in many of your classes, I heard she . . . fancies you."

I stared at him dumbly. I can imagine him striking that pose in one of his meetings, I could imagine him using his "resources" to get what he wanted. I could imagine his "resources" agreeing to what he suggested. Who could possibly defy him?

I glanced at the clock and found an escape route. Getting up, I push in my chair and grab my satchel. I'm almost at the doorway when his voice, firm and full with authority booms through the kitchen.

"Mark. You are part of this family, and as such you will do as I say. David Kouner and his family will be joining us for dinner."

"I'm going to be late." I walk until I get to the front door.

 From there, I run.

Author's Note

I'm still looking for reviews. They could really help me develop the story.