Page 39 of The Girlfriend Card
And that’s when it occurred to me—we could kill two birds with one stone. I could help Dakota get out of his crappy situation, and he could help me get out of mine. And the key to pulling it off convincingly laid in Dakota’s shock and surprise at my identity.
Don’t fight it; roll with it.
“Just follow my lead, okay?” I said to an understandably bewildered Dakota.
I hopped out first, but Dad didn’t notice me, because the Porsche stood between me and him. Plus, Dad didn’t care all that much about “Jane”—the person he wanted wasDakota.
Dakota popped his door open and staggered out, looking dazed.
“Hey, there he is! The party boy!” Dad approached him with a massive smirk. He grabbed Dakota’s hand and yanked him closer for a handshake and hug. “What’s the matter? You look all white.”
Dakota stammered, unable to speak—and Dad, drunk on his power to turn a grown man into a stuttering mess, was loving it.
“Are younervous, kiddo? Sure, we got a few things to discuss tonight, heh heh … but don’t be nervous!” Dad made a fist and held it against Dakota’s jaw. “I won’t hurt ya.”
But his tone changed when he saw me walking around the rear of the Porsche, and his voice rose an octave. “Ottavia?”
“Hi, Dad,” I said, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice. We greeted with a hug, but his embrace was hesitant as confusion swirled around us.
“What areyoudoing here?” he asked, quickly pulling away.
“We’re having dinner, aren’t we?” I stood next to Dakota and slipped my hand through his arm, a gesture of unity and support. And even though this was just part of the charade, I couldn’t deny how comforting Dakota’s arm felt around my back.
“Wh-…What?” Dad’s eyes darted between the two of us, his mind reeling as it tried to make sense of this new reality. “Get the fuck out.” He stared at me, long and hard. “You?You’re Jane? Is that what you’re telling me right now?”
I nodded. I could feel Dakota trying to pull away from me. I held him tight, my fingers digging into his muscled obliques, silently pleading with him to not give up on us yet.
Dad let out a sharp laugh and set his sights on Dakota. “Sothisis how you tell me you’re dating my daughter? Gotta hand it to you, kid. You got some fuckin’ balls on you.” His voice hit an intimidating rumble, and he stared daggers into the athlete. “Big … brassy … ten-pound fuckin’balls.”
Spooked, Dakota held both hands up in surrender. “Mr. Capuano, sir, I swear—I can explain everything.”
I could tell he meant it, too. Dakota was ready to come clean, but that wouldn’t do himself any favors with my dadorthe team.
“Explain why you’re rolling up tomyhouse withmydaughter on your arm? Yeah, I think you’d fuckin’ better.”
I tugged on Dakota’s elbow.Don’t do it!
Dakota drew a deep breath, but I spoke up before he could get out a word. “Dad, Dakota didn’t know.”
He turned his angry and impatient gaze on me. “Huh? Didn’t know what?”
“Who I really am. He didn’t even know my real name until literally just a few seconds ago.”
Dad glared at Dakota. “Is that true?”
“Yes, sir,” Dakota said, and I could tell he was relieved he could finally saysomethingtrue. “If I had known Ottaviawas your daughter … I never would’ve brought her here.” He vehemently shook his head. “Believe me. No way.Never.”
“I told him my name was Jane,” I said.
Dad’s brow furrowed. “But whywould you do that, Ottavia?”
“Because I didn’t want it to change things between us,” I said. “Boys are so intimidated when they find out who I am. And since Dakota plays for the hockey teamyouown, I knew that’d be doubly so. Ihadto keep it a secret from him.”
Again, Dad’s eyes flicked between the two of us, nostrils flaring as if he could smell a rat.
“So how long have you been dating?” he asked, clearly unconvinced.
“Not long. A couple months,” I said.
