Too Pretty to Be a Boy -7-

“Why is it so hard to spend some quality time with my daughter?” Mom sighed as she started the car, the familiar rumble a backdrop to her frustration. “I swear, all I wanted was a peaceful evening, but now we have to deal with her.” The thought of Chrystal’s deceit cast a shadow over the evening.  

She shook her head, the movement sharp with annoyance. “So, you’re still going through with this? I don’t like it when someone cheats on my son, and that girl should count herself lucky to have found someone like Johnny.” Mom’s protective instincts were clearly in overdrive.  

“Most definitely. Johnny deserves better,” I replied, my voice firm with conviction. She thinks she can walk all over him, use him for his kindness and generosity. Not if I have anything to say about it. Chrystal thinks she can use my brother like an ATM, and I’m not going to let that happen.  

A few moments ago, my fingers had danced across the screen of my phone, sending a message that felt both strategic and a little bit vengeful. He needs to see the truth, and maybe a little outside perspective will help. I had sent Johnny a text with the name and location of the restaurant, along with a simple message: Come hungry. Also, Abby and Angie are coming.  

Meanwhile, the exchange with Abby had been brief but powerful. Angela, ever the gossip and loyal friend, had apparently already filled her in on everything, painting a vivid picture of Chrystal’s betrayal. Abby had only replied with four words, a digital declaration of unwavering support:  

Whoever messes with you, messes with me.  

A warmth spread through me. Knowing I have them on my side makes facing this whole mess a little less daunting. That was all I needed to know she was on board.  

A few moments later, the back doors of the car opened, and Angela and Abby stepped in. They looked effortlessly elegant and exuded quiet confidence that seemed to fill the small space.  

Angela wore a blush pink satin blouse that shimmered softly in the interior light, paired with a high-waisted black pencil skirt that fell just below her knees, a classic silhouette that accentuated her figure. She completed the look with nude-colored tights that made her legs look miles long and black block heels that added a touch of sophistication without being overly formal. A simple gold chain necklace rested delicately at her collarbone, and pearl earrings added a subtle touch of timeless elegance. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek, low ponytail, emphasizing her sharp features and giving her a refined yet effortless appearance.  

Abby opted for a navy-blue wrapped dress with long sleeves, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was flattering but not too tight. The hemline fell just above her knees, a stylish and confident length that struck a perfect balance between formal and casual. She paired it with black sheer pantyhose that added a hint of allure and pointed-toe heels that spoke of quiet determination. A silver bracelet adorned her wrist, catching the light with her movements, and small diamond stud earrings added a bit of subtle sparkle, while her long, dark hair, styled in loose waves that framed her face, gave her a confident yet relaxed look.  

Mom glanced at them in the rearview mirror, a small, impressed whistle escaping her lips. “Well, don’t you two look stunning? You girls always know how to dress well.” A hint of pride softened the edges of her earlier annoyance.  

“Thank you, Aunt Lil,” Abby replied with a smirk, a playful glint in her eyes. “It took me a while to convince Dad that Angela isn’t going on a date.”  

Angela groaned, her face turning slightly pink as she leaned back in her seat. “Did you have to bring that up?” The memory of Uncle Ian’s overprotective grilling was clearly still fresh.  

I couldn’t help but giggle, the tension in the car momentarily easing at the familiar dynamic between them. Uncle Ian being overprotective was nothing new.  

Mom smirked knowingly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Ian is your godfather, remember? As far as he’s concerned, you’re just one of his girls.”  

A wave of affection and gratitude washed over me. I swallowed hard. She wasn’t wrong. Angela’s dad, Uncle Ian Jaeger, was my godfather, and Aunt Carol was my godmother. My parents couldn’t have chosen better. They had always been a constant source of support and love in my life.  

Uncle Ian had never treated me like anything less than one of his own. When I was little, his booming laugh would fill the air as he’d hoist me onto his broad shoulders so I could reach the basketball hoop he built for Angela and Abby, making me feel like I could touch the sky. When Dad was too busy with work, he took me on my first fishing trip, patiently showing me how to cast a line and even teaching me how to properly set up a tent after I nearly collapsed one on myself in a tangle of canvas and poles.  

I once begged him, my eyes wide with childish excitement, to let me come hunting with him, and to my surprise, he said yes—only to spend the whole trip not with a rifle in my hands, but teaching me the quiet art of tracking animals through the woods, his voice a low rumble as he explained, ”Knowing the land, Carla-bug, is just as important as knowing how to use the rifle.”  

Even after the divorce, when the world felt like it had tilted on its axis, Uncle Ian’s steadfast affection never wavered. His gruff but genuine care remained a constant in my life.  

“Speaking of which,” Abby said, turning to me with a pointed look that held a mixture of concern and gentle reproach. “Dad’s disappointed you haven’t come to see him yet. He really wants to talk to you. I explained that we were at the house this morning, but he knows that you would usually stay until he comes back all the time.” A flicker of guilt crossed her expression.  

A knot formed In my stomach. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the leather cool against my back. “I figured he might be.” He’s always been so good to me. I should have made more of an effort.  

“I told him you were probably nervous,” Abby continued, her voice softening with understanding, “but like Aunt Lil said, he sees you as family, Carla. He’s a little hurt that you haven’t waited for him like you usually do.”  

I let out a sigh, the sound heavy with a mix of guilt and affection, running a hand through my hair in a gesture of frustration. I knew Uncle Ian well enough to know he wasn’t angry—just missing the familiar routine and perhaps a little worried.  

Angela nudged my shoulder with a reassuring smile, her eyes full of empathy. “You know Dad, Carla. He’s not mad, just misses you every time you go back to New York,” Angy explained gently.  

“Well, girls, let’s get going, shall we?” Mom said, putting the car in drive and pulling smoothly out of the driveway, the streetlights blurring into streaks of light. 

“So, Carla,” Mom began, her tone shifting back to the present situation, a thoughtful curiosity in her eyes as she glanced at me. “How exactly are we going to deal with Chrystal tonight?”  

A sly smirk played on my lips. Let’s just say I’ve planted a few seeds, and tonight, we’re going to watch them sprout. I turned to her, a hint of mischief dancing in my eyes. “Simple. I already reached out to a few guys that Chrystal has been seeing behind Johnny’s back.” A wave of grim satisfaction washed over me. “They have no loyalty to her, and some of them didn’t even know she had a boyfriend. Now what do they do? They’re pissed.”  

Abby raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her expression a mixture of intrigue and a touch of concern. “And?”  

I leaned back against the plush leather of the seat, crossing my arms, a sense of anticipation building. “And they agreed to have a little chat with Johnny. Not in an aggressive way—just casually bragging, talking about what they’ve done with her, acting like he already knows. Chrystal’s been sloppy, and these guys don’t like being played. They’ll throw her under the bus without me lifting a finger.”  

Angela let out a low whistle, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and grudging admiration. “Damn, Carla. That’s cold.”  

I shrugged, a small, unapologetic smile curving my lips. “It’s effective. Johnny wouldn’t believe me if I just told him, but when two or three different guys start casually mentioning how ‘fun’ his girlfriend is? He won’t be able to ignore it.” Sometimes, the truth needs a little nudge.  

Mom smirked as she turned onto the main road, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. “I must admit—that’s smart. Chrystal did this to herself.”  

Abby grinned, a hint of ruthlessness in her expression. “And the best part? It’s not us telling him. It’s them. He can’t call it family interference when it’s coming straight from the guys she cheated with.”  

I nodded, a feeling of grim satisfaction settling in my chest. “Exactly. And once Johnny starts really thinking about it, he’ll remember all the times Chrystal was acting suspicious, all the little lies and inconsistencies, and he’ll put the pieces together himself.” The truth always has a way of surfacing.  

Angela crossed her arms, looking genuinely impressed. “So, we just sit back and let her past mistakes catch up to her?”  

I smirked, a predatory gleam in my eyes. “Yup. And tonight’s the night it happens.”  

Mom chuckled, shaking her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. “Carla, remind me never to get on your bad side.”  

I laughed, the sound lighter now, the tension in the car beginning to dissipate as our plan felt like it was finally in motion. “As long as you don’t cheat on Johnny, you’ll be fine.”  

We pulled up to the restaurant, and I couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer elegance of the building. The valet stand was bustling, and the warm glow emanating from the large windows hinted at the sophisticated atmosphere inside. Wow, Dad really knows how to pick a place. The place screamed expensive. Inside, everyone was dressed like they were heading to a gala, a sea of shimmering fabrics and polished shoes. Good thing we didn’t show up looking basic.  

“Wait here, girls. I’ll handle our table,” Mom said, a determined set to her jaw, before heading towards the imposing host stand near the entrance.  

Before I could even comment on the grandeur of the restaurant, a familiar voice, laced with a sharp and possessive edge, cut through the air, carrying out to where we waited by the valet.  

“I’m warning you, Chrystal,” Johnny’s tone was low but intensely serious, each word carrying a weight of warning. “Don’t mess this up. You’re meeting my mom, and if you so much as look at Carla the wrong way, I swear you’re on your own. I’m not saving you.” He stood just inside the entrance, his grip tight on Chrystal’s arm. 

Chrystal scoffed, rolling her eyes with a blatant display of disrespect. “Johnny, she’s not your mom.” Her tone was dismissive and laced with a hint of jealousy. 

Oh no. That crossed a line she doesn’t even realize exists. Lillian wasn’t just a stepmother to Johnny; she had been his real mom since he was a toddler, the only mother he truly remembered. She had bandaged his scraped knees, stayed up with him through countless fevers, and been the unwavering source of love and support in his life. To hear Chrystal dismiss her so casually… it was infuriating. A memory flashed in my mind: Johnny, at nine years old, coming home with a split lip and a triumphant glint in his eye after a classmate had sneered that Lillian wasn’t his “real” mom. The other kid had ended up with a spectacularly bloody nose, and Johnny, despite the punishment that followed, had worn the consequences like a badge of honor.  

I smirked, a grim satisfaction washing over me despite the underlying tension of the situation. She has absolutely no idea the hornet’s nest she just kicked. She had just signed her own death sentence.  

Johnny’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The playful glint that usually danced in his grey eyes vanished, replaced by a cold fury that radiated off him in waves. His jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles working in his cheek, his grip on Chrystal’s arm visibly constricted, and his eyes darkened to a stormy grey, a look that even made a shiver of unease run down my spine. That look… he’s seeing red. He won’t let that slide.  

“Say that again,” Johnny said, his voice dangerously low, a barely controlled growl that promised retribution. “Say it again, and I’ll dump you right here, right now.” The air crackled with unspoken threat.  

Okay, no. This wasn’t how I wanted this to go down. My carefully orchestrated plan was in danger of exploding in a messy, emotional confrontation. I needed him to walk away from her with zero guilt, with a clear understanding of her character and her disrespect—not solely out of raw, protective anger fueled by a deep-seated loyalty to Lillian.  

Time for some damage control. I took a step forward, my heels clicking softly on the pavement. “Johnny,” I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around his waist, pulling him slightly away from Chrystal. “You look great.” My voice was deliberately light and affectionate.  

And I meant it. Even when he wasn’t trying, my brother could wear a trash bag and still turn heads. Tonight, in his carefully chosen outfit, he looked genuinely handsome, the sharp lines of his clothes accentuating his strong build.  

Then, I turned to Chrystal, forcing a polite smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes, giving her a quick once-over. She was wearing a skin-tight red body-con dress that barely skimmed her thighs, a bold and attention-grabbing choice, paired with sheer black stockings that emphasized her slender legs and towering red high-heeled pumps that clicked loudly on the marble floor as she shifted her weight. The dress was so short that I could literally see the lace tops of her stockings when she moved, a detail that screamed desperation. Classy. 

I forced a polite smile. “You look nice too, Chrystal.” The words felt like sandpaper on my tongue.  

She knew I didn’t mean it. I knew it. Johnny knew it. But I wasn’t playing by the same old rules anymore. If Chrystal wanted to act fake and condescending, I could play right along with her, a saccharine smile plastered on my face.  

Johnny chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly as he slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close in a familiar, brotherly gesture. “You look great too, squirt. I’m gonna have a hard time keeping guys off you tonight.” His attention was momentarily diverted.  

And that’s when Johnny’s focus completely shifted. His gaze drifted past Chrystal, landing on Abby and Angela as they approached, their elegant figures drawing attention even in the dimly lit entryway. Just like that, his entire attitude changed. The anger seemed to recede, replaced by a softer, almost surprised expression.  

“Abby?” His voice softened slightly, a note of something akin to… longing? His gaze locked on her, a flicker of warmth in his grey eyes.  

“Hey, Johnny,” Abby greeted, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, her usual cool composure momentarily wavering. “It’s been a while.” There’s definitely a history there. Angela and I exchanged a quick, knowing glance.  

Chrystal noticed the subtle shift in Johnny’s attention, and she did not like it one bit. Her perfectly manicured fingers tightened possessively on his arm, her knuckles white.  

Her eyes narrowed, her gaze sharp and openly hostile as she shot Abby a venomous glare. “Who’s that bitch?” she sneered, her voice dripping with undisguised jealousy and territoriality.  

Abby barely batted an eyelash, her expression remaining cool and unbothered before delivering a cutting retort with effortless grace. “Oh, please. How many times a day do you open your legs?” The words hung in the air, sharp and devastating. 

I almost lost it, a snort of laughter bubbling up in my throat. I had to bite my lip hard to keep from bursting out. That’s my girl, Abby. Always knows how to land a knockout punch.  

Chrystal’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish gasping for air, her eyes darting between Abby and Johnny, her mind clearly struggling to process the unexpected and brutal attack. But there was no comeback strong enough to recover from that. The silence hung heavy.  

Just when I thought the evening couldn’t possibly get any crazier, Mom’s voice, sharp with indignation, rang through the elegant murmur of the restaurant.  

“What do you mean I don’t have my table? I made this reservation a month ago!” Her voice carried across the room.  

We all turned to see Mom standing at the host stand, her hands planted firmly on her hips, her posture radiating pure, unadulterated fury. The host, a smug-looking young man with slicked-back hair and an air of bored superiority, didn’t even look fazed by her obvious displeasure. He continued to tap away at his computer screen with an air of bored indifference, as if dealing with irate customers was a minor inconvenience.  

Johnny rolled his eyes, a sigh of exasperation escaping his lips. He started heading towards them, his long strides eating up the distance between us and the host stand. We followed, Angela and Abby exchanging amused and slightly concerned glances.  

“What’s going on?” Johnny asked, his voice low but sharp, the earlier anger simmering beneath the surface once more.  

The host barely glanced up from his screen, his expression still radiating profound boredom. Then, his eyes widened slightly in surprise as he finally registered Johnny’s presence. “Mr. Davis, I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” the host said, his voice suddenly laced with a nervous tremor that betrayed his earlier nonchalance. He then flicked a dismissive look back at Mom, a look that made Johnny’s face flush with renewed and intense rage. “This lady is causing a scene. I already explained that the table she wants is unavailable tonight.” 

Johnny’s face darkened instantly, his jaw clenching so tightly that a muscle twitched in his cheek. “Why?” His expression said that he was not happy.  

The host let out a dramatic sigh, still not making eye contact and continuing to type away at his keyboard with exaggerated slowness. “The floor manager’s friends will be using it tonight.” His tone implied it should be obvious and that Mom was being unreasonable.  

I could see Johnny’s hands clenching into fists at his sides, his whole body tensing with barely suppressed fury. This is about to get ugly. He doesn’t take disrespect towards Mom lightly.  

I quickly grabbed his arm, my fingers digging slightly into his bicep, giving him a look that I hoped conveyed both understanding and a plea for restraint. I shook my head slightly. “Johnny,” I said quietly, my voice a low murmur. “It’s not worth it.”  

His jaw tightened further, the muscle In his cheek jumping, but he exhaled sharply, a visible effort to control his temper. Instead of confronting the host directly, he draped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. Then, he turned back to the host, his voice now dangerously low and ice-cold.  

“You’re lucky my sister’s here,” he said, his gaze unwavering and intense. “That woman you just dismissed with such blatant disrespect? That’s my mother. She reserved that table a month ago. So, here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to get her table ready, immediately, or I’ll call my dad and let him know that his ex-wife and the mother of his children just got disrespected in his own restaurant.” The threat hung heavy in the air.  

The host froze mid-type. His head snapped up, his eyes widening in alarm as he finally truly looked at Johnny. His face drained of all color, his smug demeanor vanishing instantly.  

“W-wait…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “she’s Mr. Davis’ ex-wife?” Recognition dawned on his face, followed by sheer panic.  

Johnny tilted his head slightly, a cold, humorless smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah. Didn’t think to check the reservation under Davis, huh? But that shouldn’t matter, all customers should be treated the same, right?” The sarcasm dripped from his tone.  

The host looked like he wanted to disappear into the polished marble floor. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.  

“I—I am very sorry, sir,” he stammered, his fingers now flying across the keyboard with frantic energy. “Let me fix this right away! My sincerest apologies, ma’am.” His voice was a high-pitched squeak.  

Johnny, however, wasn’t finished making his point.  

“You’re lucky Dad told me not to fire people on a whim,” he said coolly, his gaze still fixed on the now thoroughly cowed host. “But you? And the floor manager who apparently thinks his friends are more important than paying customers? You’re both explaining this to him personally. And if he gives me the green light?” His smirk was pure danger, promising swift and decisive consequences. “You’re fired.” 

The host swallowed hard, his face almost as pale as his crisp white uniform. He nodded mutely, avoiding eye contact.  

Without another word, Johnny linked arms with me and led us toward the elegant dining area, his grip firm and reassuring. Everyone else followed, Abby whispering under her breath, her eyes gleaming with anticipation—  

“This is gonna be fun.”  

And honestly? 

She was so right. A sense of anticipation bubbled within me.  

Inside La Belleza, the atmosphere shifted from the tense entryway to a warm, sophisticated hum. We quickly found our designated table, a prime spot overlooking the rest of the dining room. Just as I was about to slide into the plush velvet chair, Johnny pulled it out for me with a surprisingly gentle gesture. I raised an eyebrow at him, a silent question in my gaze, but he just offered a small, almost shy smile.  

“Let me be a gentleman for my sister,” he said smoothly, his eyes flicking briefly towards Chrystal, who watched the exchange with a tight, resentful expression.  

I smirked and nodded, not minding the unexpected chivalry at all—especially when I caught the look of simmering annoyance on Chrystal’s face. Let her stew. 

As soon as we were seated, Johnny turned to Mom, his earlier frustration still evident in the set of his jaw. “Alright, I need to sort something out with the host and have a word with the manager. I’ll be back,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of determination.  

I sighed, watching him walk off towards the host stand again. Please don’t break anyone’s nose, Johnny. It’s really not worth the drama.  

Just seconds after he disappeared into the crowd, a well-dressed man in a sharp, expensive-looking suit approached our table. Something about his overly smooth demeanor and the way his eyes flicked over us made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I instinctively reached for my phone, my thumb already hovering over Dad’s contact, dialing his number before the man even opened his mouth.  

“Excuse me, ladies,” he said smoothly, his voice oozing a false charm. “I’m afraid there’s been a slight mistake with the reservations. This table isn’t actually available tonight.” His eyes avoided Mom’s.  

Mom’s expression didn’t waver, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I believe you are mistaken,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I reserved this table a month ago, and my son already cleared this up with the host.”  

I swear I saw the man flinch for a split second, a crack appearing in his polished façade, but he quickly recovered, plastering on another insincere smile.  

“I understand,” he said, his tone still polite but with an underlying air of forced authority. “However, as the owner of this restaurant, I must ask you to leave.” He gestured vaguely towards the exit with a dismissive wave of his hand.  

Before Mom could unleash the full force of her indignation, Dad picked up the call. Without hesitation, I put him on speakerphone, the small device amplifying his voice in the sudden silence.  

“Hi, Carla sweetheart,” Dad’s voice came through, already laced with a familiar note of concern. “Is everything alright?”  

Hold on. My ears perked up.  

Did… did Dad just call me Carla? I didn’t have the chance to explain anything for him, yet. But he used my girl’s name.

Damn it. That meant Mom or Johnny must have told him about the situation before I got the chance to give him my carefully crafted, innocent version. I should have called him first. No time for that now—focus on the immediate problem.  

“Hi, Daddy,” I said sweetly, making sure my voice dripped with an exaggerated innocence that I knew would play on his protective instincts. “Mom took me to dinner at La Belleza—she made a reservation a month ago—but now there’s a man here saying he’s the owner and that we have to leave. But I thought you owned this restaurant, Daddy. Is he… lying to me?” I widened my eyes for dramatic effect, even though he couldn’t see me.  

I could see the amused smirks spreading across Mom, Angela, and Abby’s faces. Even Johnny’s girlfriend, Chrystal, who had been silently fuming, was staring at me with a look of utter disbelief, as if I had just sprouted a second head.  

The man’s expression twisted into irritation, his forced politeness finally cracking. “Young lady,” he snapped, his voice losing its smooth edge, “who are you to call me a liar?”  

Big mistake. He had no idea who he was dealing with.  

Dad’s voice dropped into a deadly calm tone that I knew all too well. “Carla Davis,” he said, each word sharp enough to cut glass. “The youngest child and only daughter of Harry Davis—the actual owner of the restaurant you’re trying to throw her and her mother out of.” The emphasis on “actual” was unmistakable.  

The color drained from the man’s face, leaving him ashen. He looked as pale as a ghost, his eyes wide with dawning horror.  

“I recognize your voice, Sam,” Dad continued, his tone now laced with pure fury. “If I were you, I’d be walking out of that restaurant right now. I’ve already informed HR and your manager. You’re fired.” The final word hung in the air, a death knell to Sam’s arrogance.  

Sam visibly staggered back, his confident façade crumbling into sheer panic. His eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route.  

I turned off the speakerphone and lifted the phone to my ear, a small smile playing on my lips.  

“Hi, Dad,” I said softly, this time dropping the fake innocence. “Thanks.”  

Dad chuckled on the other end, the sound warm and familiar. “Oh? So now I’m just Dad?” 

I rolled my eyes, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “I can always switch back to Daddy if it gets me what I want.”  

“I’d like that,” he said, laughing warmly. “By the way, your mom already explained everything, but I want to hear how you feel about all this, from you.” His tone turned serious.  

That… made my throat tighten a little. The playful façade dropped.  

“Okay, Daddy,” I said, my voice softer than before, the weight of everything that had happened with Johnny and Chrystal suddenly hitting me. A single tear slipped down my cheek.  

“Love you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice full of affection, before hanging up.  

I set my phone down on the table, exhaling a shaky breath.  

“I always knew you were a Daddy’s girl,” Mom teased, a knowing smirk on her face.  

I groaned, face-palming as Angela and Abby giggled, the tension finally breaking. But deep down? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Having Dad in my corner always made things a little less scary.