Heyy guys, Sammie again. Just being brief. I'm not sure if you're all still out there, or interested. I noticed there was a real drop in reviews at the last update so, let me know?
xo

note for this add; Vernon is the in reference to Vernon Kay from a popular game show Family Fortunes. Very well known in the UK, for those who are unsure.

Chapter Twenty Nine

"I thought you'd be pleased." I could almost hear Dougie grinning stupidly down the phone. "You like singing."

"Well, yeah. When I don't think people can hear me." I snapped. "I'm not even any good. So why you chose to do this is beyond me."

"I did it for a very good reason." He argued.

"Oh yes. 'Let's humiliate Brenna for singing badly in my shower'. Moronic Arsehole." I muttered. I felt a flick around my ear and turned, seeing dad frown at me.

"Less of the cheek." He scorned. I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Big words." Dougie remarked. "You know you're excited."

"I'm shtting bricks." I mumbled.

"It wasn't even my idea." He said. "I'd go ask your daddy about this. He may know many things about you, but he sure as hell knows about this."

"Oh does he now?" I raised an eyebrow, seeing dad edge towards the living room door. "Not so fast!"

He groaned and murmured something under his breath about Dougie being untrustworthy and about circumcision. Oh what a riot.

I love a good mystery.

Oosh!

It's like cluedo.

Or some kind of game show like Family fortunes.

Used to love that as a three year old.

With some lanky presenter mum had a brief crush on.

Vernon Kay or something...

I can imagine it now.

'Who sent a recording of Brenna to a record company?' Vernon will ask.

'Umm.. Dad?' I'll suggest.

'Is it .. Dad?'

Lights Flash.

Bells sound.

Ding-a-ling...

Cue chiming music for correct answer.

'Correct, now, Harry, who is the guy banging your daughter behind your back?' Vernon chuckles.

'No one. She's my innocent little seventeen year old with no black mark to her wonderful virgin name.' Dad will beam.

'Incorrect. And the top answer is...' Vernon Pauses. 'Dougie.'

"Bre?" Dougie speaks

"Huh?"

"Just checking if you were still alive. Or your dad for that matter." He laughed.

"All I did was suggest to Dougie that you needed a shove in the right direction." Dad said, leaning over the steering wheel of his car, looking both left and right trying to see any oncoming traffic, cursing under his breathe at all the cars parked at the side of us, making vision harder. "I only meant for him to encourage you more. You talk to him a lot more than me or your mum."

Okay, now he sounded a little downhearted.

Great.

Indirect guilt trips are my favourite.

Let's pull out some pity while you're at it, Dad.

Go the whole hog!

"And you do have a beautiful voice." He smiled.

"I sound like a scratched record." I muttered.

"Five words." He glanced at me. "Talking out of your ass."

"I know you're only saying this because you're meant to. It's written in to your DNA as soon as you become a parent. You all have to say it at least once in parenthood." I shrugged, slightly smirking.

"Well, we'll find out just how good you are soon won't we?" He shot back.

No we bloody well won't.

Let me out of the car!

Honestly.

Sometimes he's as bad as Danny.

And that's bad.

"I don't want to." I sniffed, trying to put on a few tears for effect.

Come on..

Dad always falls for this.

"Don't try it." He stated. "You're going to do this because you want to do it. I know you do." I went to protest, interrupted before I had even begun. "And I know you want to because you're always singing. And you're mum told me."

Damn her.

"And I happen to listen to your mum a lot." He smiled coyly.

Oh good grief.

Anyone would think he and mum were two love struck teenagers.

"I know you do. I've noticed you talk rubbish almost as much as she does."