Page 68 of Daddy's Pride

"I thought you were ordering delivery."

I glanced over my shoulder to find Trinity in the entryway to the kitchen, finger-combing her dark, damp hair. Her face was free of makeup and again I took in how beautiful she was. She was a few inches taller than my five-eight and curvier than my slimmer build. I'd never thought I had a type; I was a lover of women. Thin, fat, short, tall, I just found them all irresistible, but there was something special about Trinity

That was one of the reasons I invited her home with me, I wanted to discover what about her drew me from the second I spotted her walking through my club.

The unconscious grace in the sway of her hips beneath her flowing skirt. A dress that conformed to perfect breasts. Her back straight. Her head held high like the Queen she should be treated as. The moment she'd come to the bar with her brilliant shine dimmed, I'd considered that a crime.

"I don't remember saying anything about delivery. Food’s almost ready and I already set the table. You want wine? Or I have some sodas or iced tea."

"Iced tea would be great, I think I've had enough to drink. Glasses?"

I told her where the glasses were and she poured our drinks while I made the plates. "Forks or chopsticks?"

"Either is fine."

As I took two sets of chopsticks and a couple forks from the drawer, I watched her as I carried everything to the table. I set everything down and pulled out her chair. She smiled shyly and whispered thank you. I waited for her to sit and then took my own seat.

"You didn't have to go to the trouble."

"No trouble at all. My schedule is opposite of everyone else's, so it's just better to cook than rely on takeout or whatever is open twenty-four hours. Even when I worked my corporate job, I still cooked for myself. What do you do for work?"

"I'm a server at a bistro on the other side of the city. It's a really nice place. I worked as a cook at a truck stop before I moved here. What was your corporate job?"

I groaned and she chuckled.

"I was a marketing exec. I had an entire team who worked under me and we did everything from product launches to non-profit fundraising stuff. I started at the company as a graphic designer in a cubicle."

"Why did you leave? Other than owning a club?"

I tapped the table in front of her plate to get her to eat. "A few years before I quit, another company bought into the one I worked for. We were told everything would stay the same and for about a year it did. Until I was told that Mx would need to be removed from my door. That our LGBTQ companies and organizations wouldn't be displayed in our portfolios. When I refused, they started to initiate policy changes to force our hands and I walked out… quite a few went with me."

"Did you love your job?" she asked, then took a bite of her dinner.

"I did, and as much as they begged me to stay, I couldn't under the new owners. I'd been out of the closet since I was twelve; hell, I never was in the closet. I got a crush on a girl, I told my parents."

"Were they okay with it?"

"My parents were divorced a few years earlier. I told my gestational mom; she was not happy. My Trans mom—her coming out led to the divorce—was happy for me. I moved in with Mama about a year later, when shit got too heavy with my mother. Mama was always supportive about everything." I glanced at her when she didn't say anything and I set my chopsticks on the side of my plate. "What's wrong? I can make you something else."

"No, no, your mom is Trans?" Her voice broke over the question.

"Mama very much is. She's openly Trans so I'm not telling any secrets." I picked up my glass and took a swallow of my tea. "She works at a LGBTQ community center as a Trans counselor and activist…advocate. She helps people find resources to start their transition or just offer an ear when someone needs to talk."

"How did your mom and dad meet?"

I was concerned about another slight break in her voice. She was too focused on her plate. Her hair fell forward to conceal her face from me. I wasn't used to resisting my urges and I really wanted to tuck her hair behind her ear, and make her look at me. I wondered if I'd said something wrong.

Instead of asking her, I answered her question. "Mama went on a roadtrip in her converted van. I think I was thirteen, I was away at a camp for Queer youth for a month. She broke down in the middle of nowhere. It was a dead zone, no cell service at all. A few hours had passed and not one vehicle had gone by. She checked her map and saw that there was a town about six miles ahead. She figured if she started walking, she had to get service sooner or later, or she'd reach town."

"How far did she have to walk?" She was finally watching me, clearly interested in my mama and dad's love story.

I grinned at her. "She got about two miles and then heard motorcycles, not just one or ten, but thirty of them coming up behind her. As a woman that can be terrifying, being a Trans woman, it's like the start of a horror movie. The lead bike pulled up behind her and she just kept walking… ignoring that anyone had stopped. A deep, growly voice called out to her. There's this massive, tattooed guy. He asked if the van was hers, and offered her a ride to the nearest town. She didn't have much choice, so she took the offer."

"It seemed to work out."

"It did. Mama got a room at a motel and offered to pay for his as a thank you. He said no told her to have a good night, and said that if she needed a ride back to her van, he'd give her one. They parted ways and Mama went to her room. An hour later, Dad knocked on her door and invited her to eat with him. He didn't feel like eating alone."

"So clichéd."