Free 52 Reasons to Hate My Father by Jessica Brody

satisfaction.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I screech, completely horrified.
    Luke doesn’t reply. He simply continues to stand at attention next to the door. I leap to my feet, ignoring the thunderbolt of pain that rockets through my head, brush past him, and barrel down the hallway. “Bruce!” I call at the top of my lungs.
    I find him standing at the reception desk, sipping on a fresh cup of coffee and perusing a legal brief like it’s just another warm, sunny day at the office.
    “You can’t be serious about this.”
    “I’m sorry, Lexington,” he replies unhelpfully. “Once again, this was your father’s call. I had nothing to do with it.”
    “You mean to tell me I’m stuck with this guy for the next year ?”
    Bruce shrugs as though he doesn’t see why I’m getting so bent out of shape. “Well … yeah.”
    I glance back in the direction I came from. Luke is suddenly behind me, looking like a total corporate robot with his hardened jawline and prepackaged haircut.
    I can’t hold it in any longer. I feel the sickness rising up in my chest, stinging my throat. I turn helplessly toward Bruce and vomit all over his Armani suit.

 
    DANGEROUS LIAISONS
    I fall into the front seat of Luke’s car and he thrusts a trash can that he evidently stole from Bruce’s office into my lap and slams the door closed. I cringe at the sound.
    He gets in behind the wheel and fastens his seat belt. Then he proceeds to go through some five-minute procedure of checking and rechecking the mirrors, radio volume, wiper functionality, warning lights, and climate controls, as though he’s preparing for a transatlantic flight as opposed to just a stupid car ride.
    I stare at him for a few moments and then my eyes simply can’t handle being open any longer and I allow them to close as I let out a pained groan.
    “ Please don’t puke in my car,” he says as he puts the shifter into reverse and backs out of the spot. “It’s new.”
    I open my eyes long enough to glance around at the boring gray cloth interior, cheap plastic paneling, and manual door locks and windows. “Oh, yeah,” I mock. “I wouldn’t want to mess up your brand new Kia .”
    I notice his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel as he slowly makes his way down the long, windy spiral ramp that leads out of the parking garage. “It’s a Honda Civic,” he replies through gritted teeth, and then adds, “Hybrid,” as if that’s supposed to be some kind of improvement.
    I roll my eyes. “Well, the color is awful. And it’s making me carsick.”
    “Not all of us are lucky enough to receive a Lexus for our sixteenth birthdays.”
    I flash him a look of repulsion. “Eww. Like I’d ever be caught dead in a Lexus.”
    Luke takes a long, deep breath. He looks like he’s about to close his eyes and start chanting Om or something and then suddenly, as if a switch has been flipped, he’s all business again. “Here’s how this is going to work,” he says importantly, as though he’s addressing a boardroom. I can see why my father likes this guy so much. He’s like a Richard Larrabee mini-me. “Your father has selected fifty-two jobs for you to undertake over the course of the next year. You will not be granted access to your trust fund until all fifty-two jobs have been completed. You will be given an allowance to cover your regular expenses as long as you fulfill your weekly obligations to this project. Should you decide to quit at any time or if it is determined that you are not taking the assignments seriously, your father will not hesitate to cut you off completely. Is that clear?”
    I’m barely paying attention. I’ve started to drift off again. My head is sagging forward against my chest. I feel a violent jerk as the car lurches to a stop at a red light and I snap awake. “Huh?”
    “I said,” Luke repeats impatiently, “is that clear?”
    “Yeah, whatever,” I mumble in response before twisting to my side, pulling my