EPOV
I probably should have felt guiltier than I did for hacking into my father's personal laptop. Of course, my parents were pretty easy for me to hack. When Mom and Dad had gotten their first computers, I had gotten fed up with them calling me up at all hours of the day with questions about how to open the Internet or download pictures from their email. I found giving them instructions over the phone did not make things that much easier. So, I installed remote access from my own computer onto theirs, making it easier for me to show them what to do from my own computer rather than having to explain the same steps over and over again. It had really helped Mom and Dad figure out the whole Digital Age and now, it was going to help me find out a little more about this woman my father had met up with that night. Sure, it probably wasn't the most ingenious hacking job ever, but it would work.
Probably more quickly than I should be able to, I navigated my way to my father's dating profile page. His password was the same cheesy password he uses for all of his passwords, the months of his wedding anniversary, mom's birthday, my birthday and Alice's birthday in a sequence. Dad had the bare minimum information about himself on the site, which I applauded. He had his age, occupation as a doctor rather than Chief of Surgery with no hospital named, and had the bare minimum interests: reading, golf, spending time with family and John Wayne movies. With a few more clicks, I was easily able to find the home page for this girl he had set up to see.
Isabella Swan's profile was probably much more detailed than I felt anyone should be revealed on a web site. There was no picture or age allowed, but she listed her career as a personal assistant and aspiring writer. I rolled my eyes a little at that, wondering if she was one of those girls who had read one romance novel once and decided she was going to be a writer. However, her list of interests indicated to me why my father probably thought she was a fellow senior citizen.
Miss Swan enjoyed quite a bit of the classics. In fact, I was hard pressed to find a book her list of favorite books that was published after 1959. I didn't think Valley of the Dolls really counted though. It was still the type of book I could see my mom reading. Her list of favorite movies was pretty much the same, mainly some of the old black and whites that Mom adored and forced us to watch on weekends with her as kids. After that, I went back to my father's inbox and tracked the emails they had exchanged.
I was a little surprised to find Miss Swan seemed rather cordial and genuine, though she could be a good actress for all I knew. She chatted with my dad about literature and old movies, reminding me a lot of my mother with the way she defended some characters and lambasted others. There was really only two weeks' worth of emails exchanged between them before my dad asked her out. It was slightly disappointing to see that Dad had not only contacted Miss Swan first on the site but had also initiated their first and last date. It was really putting a dent in my whole gold-digger philosophy. After finding nothing else interesting, I logged out, hoping that dropping Miss Swan off at home was the last time I would see her. I noted that she lived only one street over and half a mile from myself, but filed that information away for future reference.
I sped through the weekend, working from home and trying to convince Alice to put off the elaborate dinner party where she intended to reveal her new engagement to Jasper "the South Shall Rise Again" Whitlock. On Monday, I was excited to head up to one of the elite high rises downtown where I could be landing quite an important job. It was redesigning the look of a women's magazine and I had gotten it solely based on strings being pulled by my mother and having graduated college with the company's current web editor. I wasn't excited at first about doing a women's magazine, but Alice and my mother swore the thing was like the Bible for culture, savvy women who wanted to bring home the bacon and look good doing it.
I read up a little on the editor-in-chief, a tough as nails former ballerina who defected to the U.S. only to run her magazine with Stalin-like authority. I was a little nervous at first and had spent much of the weekend coming up with design ideas that I hoped were feminine but not overly frilly. I had the feeling the women who ran and read this magazine weren't exactly froufrou beauty pageant-types anyway. I was shown to the conference room where I spent a few minutes setting up my presentation, lying out the website prospectus I had created and making sure everything was crisp and well ordered. I had the feeling the woman I would be presenting to was a no bull shit kind of person.
I had managed to quell those pre-big presentation jitters a bit when a tall, thin woman about my mother's age strutted in. She exuded power and grace and matched the picture on the Wikipedia page I had seen the day before. I stood to shake her hand, but nearly fell backwards when I saw who was behind her. It was none other than Isabella "The Father Seducer" Swan. Upon noticing me, Swan squeaked and then fell to the floor, causing her boss to give her an odd look.
"Uh… dropped my pen…" Bella said awkwardly. I watched, slightly bemused as she crawled around under the table to retrieve it, bumping her head when she attempted to sit up without moving back from the table. "Ow!" Ignoring her odd assistant, Irina Petrokov turned to me.
"Pleasure to meet you Edvard," she said shaking her hand. "Your mother is a good friend. I am impressed with the vork she has shown me."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I replied smoothly. "My mother said she helped with the decoration of your vacation house?"
"Yes. A cabin in Alaska," Irina nodded. "Reminds me of home. Your mother is very intuitive voman."
"I can only hope I have inherited her talents," I nodded before turning over to her assistant. Her face was beet red and I smirked, glad I could make her squirm a little. I wondered what her empowered female boss would think of her trying to seduce another woman's husband, a woman who she considered a friend.
"Edvard, this is Bella Svan, my assistant," Irina said. "She vill be very instrumental in this project. Bella is the type of young voman ve are hoping to reach out to vith this vebsite. She represents the savvy, on-the-go career voman of the Internet Age. You vill take all of her considerations seriously." Suddenly my smirk dropped. I hadn't planned on the father-stealer being an essential part of this project. I expected Bella to shoot me a triumphant smirk or something, but instead, she looked even more nervous about this than I would.
I gave my presentation effortlessly and was thankfully able to fend off the sharp and pointed questions from Irina with solid answers. I was feeling pretty confident when everything was said and done, particularly since Irina looked satisfied. I was ready to sit back down when Irina threw me another curveball.
"Bella, vhat do you think of presentation?" Irina asked. Bella looked up, a blush covering her face, and I wondered if she had spent the entire meeting just doodling on her notebook.
"Well, I mean, it's a great design and all…" Bella began nervously.
"But?" Irina prompted.
"Well… there's limited reader interaction," Bella replied. "We always boast that Femme is a magazine for women about things that impact their everyday lives as well as the world around them, but we aren't giving them much of a chance to give us feedback. I mean, there are comment sections and links and stuff… but that's about it."
"And what would you propose?" I asked her, my eyes narrowing.
"Maybe… maybe more polls and interactive features… like how you can post reply videos on YouTube or how CNN does those iReports… you know, where they let viewers weigh in on the stories?" Bella suggested. "We could have a section where readers chime in… you know… forums for them to discuss the issues brought up in stories or to post their own ideas for things they want to see in the magazine."
"And interactive features?" I prompted.
"Maybe like a scrapbook where they can collect their favorite ideas from the magazine onto their own little space," Bella said. "With the user profile… they can collect articles or fashion pictures or other things they like about the online content. And they can not only show it to friend on Facebook or Twitter or wherever but the traffic can also show us what sort of things our readers want to see more of… what they like…"
"It would be a good marketing tool," the marketing supervisor piped up.
"See, this is vhat ve need," Irina nodded. "I never knew you vere so interveb savvy, Bella."
"She's just full of surprises," I grimaced.
"Vell. This meeting is concluded," Irina announced. "Ve vill go vith your ideas Edvard, but I vant you to incorporate the feedback section Bella suggested. Bella, I vant you to stick around with Edvard and discuss these ideas."
"Um… thank you, Irina… for this opportunity," Bella said nervously Irina gave us both a curt nod and then swept out of the room, her editors following behind her like ladies-in-waiting in the queen's court. I was left alone at the table with Bella and the chicken salad sandwich I had chosen for lunch that was now warming up. There was a tense moment of silence.
"Well, this is really fucking awkward," I said at the same time Bella said: "I'm sorry. I had no idea you would be here and I swear, I didn't know your Dad was old…"
"He's not old," I snorted. "Despite his age, he's considered in his prime in his field."
"You know what I mean," Bella snorted. "I don't make it a habit of going on dates with men older than my father."
"So what? Men the same age as your father?" I shot back.
"Typically, I attract douchebags," Bella replied. "In fact, I detect one in the vicinity right now."
"Would your boss approve of a so-called empowered woman speaking that way?" I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, though I think she would call you a dolboy'eb," Bella replied.
"Am I supposed to know what that made up word means?" I snorted.
"I doubt Irina would be pleased with you referring to her native Russian as a made up language," Bella smirked victoriously.
"Whatever. Can we get this thing moving? It could take me weeks to do the little redesign you made up at the last second and I am on a strict deadline for this project," I snorted.
"Made up? Excuse me?" Bella said angrily. "I was paying very close attention to your little presentation." As if to emphasize her point, Bella tossed her legal pad at me. It was filled with at least ten pages of copious notes on the presentation as well as her own side notes and ideas and even an illustration or two of how a design could be retooled.
"Well, you have this all figured out," I snorted. "Why don't you design this thing?"
"Because I don't know all that Photoshop or whatever stuff from my left foot," Bella said. "I'm good at description, not practically application. That's why I'm a writer."
"I thought you were a personal assistant," I shot back.
"I'm getting my foot in the door," Bella said angrily.
"I'm sure you are," I rolled my eyes.
"Believe me, I applied to every writing position available in this town, but with the economy in the tank… well, let's say they'd rather take a journalist with twenty-five years' experience over a recent grade," Bella fumed at me. "And Irina said if I was a good assistant, she might let me start writing a few pieces or even editing the letters to the editor or something. I'm just trying to make my own way."
"And stealing a wealthy doctor from his home and family is just one of those ways, right?" I snorted.
"Look, I never meant for it to be your father on the other end of that date, and I certainly don't need this crap from you," Bella said angrily. "I've already had the worst weekend known to man, beginning with my Internet date getting into a fight over his wife at a fancy restaurant. I know that your parents getting divorced or whatever is upsetting, but you can't take it out on me. And believe me, the last thing on earth I would ever want to be is your new step-mommy."
"Then what were you doing out with my father Friday night?" I huffed.
"Is it so hard for your little mind to comprehend it was a stupid mix-up of epic proportions?" Bell replied. "No offense to your dad, but I would have never shown up if I had any idea he was over thirty and I seriously doubt he would have shown up if he had any inkling I was younger than fifty. My friend set up the profile for me — against my better judgment — and I've taken it down so as not to inadvertently seduce any more codgers, okay?"
"So, you think my dad is a codger?" I said.
"Jesus!" Bella swore. "He's a friendly old man. Like my dad or Santa Claus. He's… fatherly… and honestly, after what I saw, he seriously belongs with your mom. You should totally try to Parent Trap those two back together."
"I know, but my sister won't listen or help," I snorted. "She thinks we need to let it 'run its course' and believes all that mumbo jumbo crap their therapist puts together. You know, I actually thought Friday night would get them back together, but they're still living separately."
"What?" Bella said in disbelief. "But they were so happy when they left together! You cannot let this happen!"
"I have been trying for weeks, believe me," I snorted. "If it were as simple as a Disney movie, they'd be back together."
"Yeah," Bella sighed. "Those stunts didn't work very well on my parents."
"Your parents?" I asked incredulously.
"They divorced when I was two and when I was six, my grandmother let me watch the old Parent Trap movie, the one with Hayley Mills?" Bella nodded. "I thought that if some British girl could do it, I could get my parents back together. I mean, I grew up in a small town and I was like the only kid with divorced parents, so it felt weird. So I tried the whole shebang, even got them together to sing 'Let's Get Together.' Totally didn't work. My dad contemplated taking me to a psychiatrist and my mother thought I needed healing crystals because my charkas were out of balance."
"What?" I laughed.
"In retrospect, a small town cop and a hippie probably aren't the best real life couple," Bella said thoughtfully. "It might make a good marriage on a sitcom, but not in real life. I still like the Parent Trap, though."
"I've only seen the one with the coke whore in it," I replied.
"Lindsay Lohan?" Bella offered.
"My little sister was way into her at one point," I shrugged.
"You can borrow my copy if you'd like… maybe next time you have to stop by the office?" Bella volunteered.
"Like… on VHS?" I said, wondering why someone would have such an old movie lying around.
"I only have the DVD version…" Bella began.
"Um… that's cool," I said. "So… let's go over your ideas for the web site…"
A/N: No offense to Lindsay Lohan or her fans intended.