Author’s Note:

First of all I’d like to thank all my readers and everyone who’s been following the FAAD series. Y’all have been awesome. Sure does make writing these stories easier.
We’re already five episodes deep. And there’s still more to come.
Codename: SCANDAL *wink*

Y’all don’t forget to spread the word: quote this post, share... Whatever gets the work done. XOXO

I let Samantha drive. I was distracted. And more than that I was wary.
She remained cool, stealing occasional glances at me. She was like her mother that way: solid, unnaturally calm and secretive.
I missed Adrienne. And I thought about our life together as Samantha steered my $250,000 Jaguar XJR Supercharged sedan to God knows where, wondering if I made her happy. Deciding I probably didn’t.
All that time lost…
‘We are here’ Samantha announced as she pulled into a cul-de-sac and ground the Jag to an abrupt halt kerbside, before a small one-storey house that even in the semi-darkness looked to be falling apart.
‘Is this where you live?’
‘Yeah dad. This is it.’
‘Its a good…’ –I checked my watch, ‘–twenty-minutes from school.’
‘I know. I make the trip every day.’ She got out. I sighed and did the same.
‘So what are we doing here Sam? What is it you want to show me?’
She held my gaze for a long time, then asked: ‘Can I trust that you won’t freak out?’
I thought about that for a moment, and asked her: ‘Did you kill someone?’
‘No.’
‘Rob a bank?’
‘No.’
‘Fraud?’
‘No.’
‘Join the church of Satan?’ She laughed at this and said no.
‘Then there’s a very good chance I can live with whatever it is you want to show me.’
She nodded. ‘Okay. This way…’ She led the way up to the front steps. They creaked. Wood.
I tried to make out as much of the house as I could as she opened the front door into a dimly-hit hallway with a circular stairway sans banisters that wormed upward to the top floor. The paint was peeling. The hall smelt of mildew and bad cooking.
The front door was apparently always left unlocked.
A decrepit house on a poorly-lit street. An ancient building that was slowly crumbling in on itself, with poorly-lit hallways, termite-made booby-traps for staircases and age-worn doors no one even bothered to lock. A father’s nightmare.
‘An impenetrable security system you have here’ I stated with due emphasis.
‘Oh you did notice’ she replied, matching my tone. ‘Its no Ritz, but we try…’
‘Don’t be sarcastic!’ I snapped.
‘Asking me to deny a family heirloom, are you?’
‘Well you do know what I mean.’
‘I probably would if you’d just say what you mean’ she chided, rooting in her purse for her keys.
Her apartment was the last on the left down the hall. By positioning she had one of the two safest apartments on the event of a burglary, but then there were windows to consider, the semi-dark hallway, and all the shadows between the front door and the wash of the nearest streetlamp at night.
‘I always thought of moving out of school accomodation into one’s own apartment as an upgrade.’
‘Well you’ve always been presumptuous dad’ she replied as she found her keys and opened the door.
Apparently Samantha was in rare form. I decided to let the issue rest, but only momentarily. We were definitely going to revisit it.
Through the door was a small living room done in warm feminine colours: pink walls skirted with baby-blue, one canary-yellow leather loveseat, white bean bags with polka dot patterns of red, yellow, blue and pink. And a dwarf wicker-work and glass center stool. The jumble of colours took the warm colours and made it into something feisty. An assault on the senses.
‘Hippie’ I noted dryly, looking around the room.
‘This isn’t a board meeting dad. Your opinion carries no weight here.’
‘You been honing your skills for a showdown or are you really tense?’
She looked at me in a way that told me all I needed to know, and then said: ‘I’ll be right back dad.’
‘C’mon Samantha. Cut all the crap and tell me what’s happening with you. This suspense thing is wearing thin.’
‘I. Will. Be. Right. Back.’ She glared at me. ‘Have your seat and make yourself comfortable.’
‘Do I have a choice…’ I shrugged and flopped into the loveseat with its yellow leather throw pillows. Strangely the colour made me think of vomit.
I was wondering what Samantha had been thinking while scouting for upholstery and what Bohemian market she found them at, when I noticed the dog ears of a magazine peeking out from beneath one of the throw pillows.
I pulled out the magazine and was immediately assaulted by the sight of pink, perky nipples on a pair of very large breasts. Lots of white pearls in the picture too. The face went largely unnoticed by me, but the headlines on the magazine cover identified the model to be a Kim Kardashian. I’d never heard the name before that day, and would possibly never forget it.
I scanned the issue of Playboy. I’d never come across one before, and I felt like a schoolboy going through the pages, wondering why Samantha would have interest in such magazines, or if even it was hers.
Oh dear lord! She has a live-in boyfriend, I thought. A boyfriend who subscribed to porn magazines…
Were they having sex?
I felt anger heat up my belly at the thought, hurriedly shoving the magazine under the pillow and crossing my legs as Samantha emerged with a tall black beautiful girl in tow who looked like a model. Not that I knew a lot about models but shoulder-length hair, a sculptured face, and a rail-thinness that bordered on anorexic was a mix that usually took the title.
‘Dad this is Chanice’ Samantha made introductions ‘my roommate… Chanice this is my father, Sam Cohen.’
Chanice came over and shook my hand. ‘Its a pleasure sir. I’ve heard so much about you.’ She seemed shaky.
‘If only I could say as much about you’ I replied, smile in place.
She stepped back to Samantha’s side like a soldier who’d been caught breaking rank at parade.
‘So?’ I looked at Samantha with a cocked brow.
Chanice gave a nervous cough and concentrated on her feet.
‘Well dad…’ Samantha began ‘Chanice and I moved in together last semester.’
‘I noticed…’
Chanice was now looking at Samantha who seemed to be struggling with her words.
‘Well we’ve lived together ever since then… And…’
‘And what Samantha!’ I snapped.
‘We’re dating Mr. Cohen…’ It was Chanice who spoke up.
‘Excuse me…’
Samantha let out a rush of air, physically deflating, and now it was her turn to inspect her pedicure.
‘Samantha and I…’ Chanice continued. ‘We’re in love.’ She swallowed audibly.
‘We’ve been dating for a while now…’
I wasn’t sure what I was hearing, but I just laughed. It didn’t seem like there was anything more to do.
‘So let me get this straight…’ I began. ‘You two are in love, like in love love?’
There was no answer.
‘So you’re telling me you are a lesbian Sam?’ I asked, incredulous, thinking what I wouldn’t give for a live-in boyfriend. And realizing instantly how wrong the thought now seemed to me.
She looked up from her feet and nodded. ‘Yes dad. I’m gay…’
Gay? What the hell did that mean.
I sighed, feeling more than a little confused.
‘Well that sure explains this’ I muttered reflectively, producing the Playboy magazine with Kim Kardashian on its cover from under the pillow and waving it like a lawyer’s exhibit.
I dumped the magazine on the center stool with a loud smack that made Chanice jump. And with nothing else to say, I rose to take my leave.
‘I think I’m done here…’

Nice story.........update too far apart but still following

Yeah. I'm sorry about the inconsistency in updates. I'll keep it at two days between each post henceforth