Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Dr. Le Croix? Sir, it's 5:30 and if you don't hurry, you will be late for the dinner at the 911 Restaurante." Delilah tapped Henry on the shoulder.

"Not now, Delilah, this is delicate work." He focused on dropping the nanos onto the DNA on the slide before him.

Delilah patiently waited until he glanced up in irritation. "Why are you standing there?" He glared at his assistant.

"Sir, remember? Your dinner meeting? You now have fifteen minutes to clean up and get there. No matter what you do, you will be late."

Henry frowned. "I don't recall seeing it on my calendar."

"Trust me, sir, it's been there for weeks." Delilah pointedly glanced at her watch.

He huffed and stood. "Fine, fine. Is the limo ready?"

"Yes, sir. Your clothes are in the bathroom and so is a razor." She closed her PDA. "I'll go inform the driver that you will require a few more minutes."

"Thank you, Delilah." Henry went to change and shaved his several days' growth of facial hair. He made his way to the lobby where she handed him his coat. He went outside and got in the limo.

As his chauffeur, Boris, drove, Henry read the latest reports and smiled. If the next set of trials yielded the same results, he would begin testing on volunteers. He was so close to finishing the serum. The profits would be huge. He could almost feel a Tri-Science Prize in his hands as he got what he deserved.

~***~

Laylah fidgeted, but stilled at Jacques' look. "Sorry," she mumbled and then tugged at the straps of her black cocktail dress. Her hair had a multitude of braids in it, courtesy of Naiya's deft hands, and Laylah wore lipstick and eye shadow. She wished she were somewhere else. She felt exposed looking like this and the stares she was getting made her uncomfortable.

"Laylah, it'll be fine. Besides, you look lovely." Jacques smiled encouragingly.

She blushed. Her gaze dropped to the table and her tightly clenched fists. The butterflies in her stomach threatened to consume her. She glanced at the wall clock. 6:15. Father wasn't going to show. She felt Jacques staring at her and Laylah shifted in her seat. She knew this was going to be a disaster. The clock's numbers, 6:20, blared mockingly at her. Jacques had said if Father didn't come, they would leave at 6:30. Ten more minutes to go. She was almost giddy with relief, but disappointed too. So typical of her father.

Jacques drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at the clock, the doorway and then Laylah. "We can stay and eat or we can go home. I'd rather stay and get some food, since you haven't had any time away from the house or school in a while. Just a suggestion, but tonight is yours, so whatever works best for you."

Laylah rewarded him with a tiny smile. "I really, really want to go home and get this stuff," she pointed at the makeup, "off me. And I want out of this dress too. I want my oversized pjs and normalcy."

"Laylah, if all you ever go for is normal, how will you enjoy life?" Jacques' chided.

"I'm sorry." Stung by his words, she automatically dropped her head. She heard his irritated growl.

"Laylah....Henry!" Jacques stood as the hostess and her father neared the table.

Laylah froze, eyes wide, her breathing a little too fast. 6:29. Her father had arrived with one minute to spare. She fought for calm and found none. She heard the faint rumble of her father's voice and Jacques' deeper bass tone. Too afraid to look, she kept her eyes locked on the table's edge that she held on to with a death grip.

"...come and sit. Laylah's been waiting."

She didn't need this stress. Already her shoulders ached with tension.

"Oh, very well." Her father stopped at the table and stared at her.

Three very simple words, said in his annoyed tone, struck Laylah's heart and she shrank back from him, cheeks pink with shame. The other customers whispered and she wanted to hide away and never see the light of day again. The onlookers had front row seats to her father's obvious distaste of having to eat dinner with his only child.

It was too much. Laylah pushed her chair back hard, quickly rose and circled away from her father, and headed for the door. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If her father didn't want her there, then she would go home.

"Laylah, wait!"

She ignored Jacques. This was his fault! If he hadn't set this up, she wouldn't be getting humiliated in front of everybody. She should have stayed home. Laylah wasn't looking where she was going and bumped into something. Her gaze shot upward to collide with her father's angry blue eyes. Time slowed and she felt all the anguish of not having him around slam into her emotions. She gulped, tried to speak and failed.

"Young lady, you will go sit down and stop making a scene." Her father's glower held her in place. Though he'd spoken calmly, the heat of his temper scorched her and like a coward she slunk back to her seat. For one second, something inside Laylah urged her to be defiant, but she squashed it. Jacques' look of disapproval didn't help either. She felt cornered and her one and only instinct was to hide.

Her father's eyes traveled over her from head to toe. Without looking at Jacques, he growled, "Leave us."

 Laylah watched Jacques stiffen and then her only supporter left. She was alone with Father. This couldn't be happening to her again. She should have told Jacques no. She had plenty of time to fret about her situation as Father ordered the meal. An uncomfortable silence fell. She didn't know what to say to her father.

Should she talk about school or ask him about work? Should she talk about her best friend Britta, whose party she badly wanted to attend? 7:00. In that moment, she envied the clock. Time could go fast and no one would care. It didn't have to be subjected to such things as dealing with issues and people it didn't understand.

Laylah's nerves finally got the best of her and unconsciously she began humming.

"Stop that," her father snapped.

She twitched and went silent. Tentatively she spoke, wanting to explain. "I'm-I'm sorry. It's a nervous habit. Jacques says I've done it for years and that I'll grow out of it sometime soon." She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't help it.

"You are too old to behave in such a childish manner. You are sixteen years old. You should handle yourself better."

"Seventeen," Laylah ground out, her eyes sparkling with hurt and a hint of anger.

"Excuse me? Did you say something?"

She ignored his warning tone. "You said 'sixteen years old.' I'm seventeen, Father. I had my birthday in June."

He waved her explanation off. "Then you definitely should act in a more mature fashion. People watch everything we do, and when you do not behave properly, it reflects badly on me."

 His glare bored into her and she muttered, "Yes, Father." She wanted to rail at him, even hit him for being so mean. Fear and a little of the needy child she once was kept her from following through with her thoughts.

 She considered leaving but didn't get the chance. The waiter arrived with their meal. She picked at her food. 7:05. The clock was still mocking her.

"Why did you bring me here tonight? I have important things to complete."

His question caught her off-guard. She hastily swallowed her food. "Me? I didn't invite you here. Jacques did."

"I see."

Laylah squirmed at his expression and stared down at her plate, afraid to look at him. Things were not going well, not at all. "Jacques wanted to cheer me up." She would defend Jacques' idea even though it was turning out to be a huge mistake. "He thought we should spend time together."

"I don't pay him to think. He is supposed to keep you safe from bodily harm and escort you to school. That's all, nothing else. He is not your emotional nursemaid. Maybe he should be replaced."

"No!" Her head came up and she locked eyes with her father. "You leave him alone! He didn't do anything wrong!" She was shouting and she didn't care that people were whispering and pointing.

Her father blinked and his eyes narrowed. She understood, seconds too late, that she'd said the wrong thing.

"When I want the opinion of a timid, whiny, frightened child, I will ask for it. Until that time, you will keep your mouth shut unless given permission to speak. Since you seem to think that being rebellious is a great thing, you are grounded."

"Gr--, grounded! You can't do that!" Laylah weakly protested, shock at his words numbing her mind.

"You are not in charge. I am your father and you will do as you are told, Laylah Cherie Le Croix, or you will face a more severe punishment. Do I make myself clear?"

His eyes glittered with intensity and wrath and she knew she'd lost. "Yes, sir. How long?" She whispered the last as she fought back tears.

"For as long as I want it to be. You are going to learn respect, Daughter, or you will be taught it. Either way, you will remember this lesson. Dinner is over. You will go home and tomorrow you start being grounded." Her father wiped his mouth, put the napkin down, took one last drink of his wine and motioned for the waiter. "Check, please, and send for her driver."

"Of course, Dr. Le Croix," the waiter murmured and removed the dishes from the table.

Laylah woodenly stared down at her black high heels and wished the earth would swallow her up. 7:29. In one hour, her father had ruined her appetite, belittled her, taken away what little freedom she had and crushed her feelings.

She wanted to weep but the tiny little bit of pride she had kept her from doing so. No way was she going to give her father the satisfaction of seeing tears roll down her face or let him know how much his words had hurt her.

The waiter returned with a frowning Jacques. His glance slid from Laylah to Henry.

"Jacques, thank you for your promptness. Laylah needs to go home. I do not believe she feels well." Her father stood. "Make sure she rests while she is grounded."

"Grounded? Henry, what's going on?"

"I will call you later with the details. For now, get her out of my sight. I don't have time for worthless individuals."

Laylah gasped, her face turned bright pink and Jacques opened his mouth to speak.

She put her hand on his arm. "Please, Jacques. Father is right. I do feel a little sick and somewhat tired. Besides, I have an essay due tomorrow that I need to get done."

Jacques' expression was inscrutable as he glanced at her father before patting Laylah's hand. "Of course, let's get you home."

Together, they left her rigid father standing by the table.