My boss asked me to take his daughter to her high school prom and promised he’d make it worth my while. I honestly figured it was nothing more than a personal favor, until she pulled open the passenger door, looked me dead in the eye, and told me her father hadn’t chosen me by chance.
“Hang on a second, Evan,” she said, one hand on the edge of the open door. “My dad didn’t pick you by accident. And he definitely didn’t set this up for my sake.”
I was nineteen when I started at a regional packaging company called Prairie Supply in Dubuque. I needed the steady paycheck badly, because my mother, Diane, was raising my little sister, Katie, entirely on her own. Every two weeks I handed over a big chunk of my earnings to cover the utilities, the groceries, and Katie’s endless school fees. With money always so tight at home, I made myself a silent promise never to show up late.
I stayed after hours whenever work piled up at the shipping bays, and I never called in unless it was a real emergency. Within my first year on the floor, I’d earned a reputation as the dependable one, the guy trusted with evening lockups and rush deliveries.
Then, one quiet Friday afternoon, Mr. Gordon called me into his wood-paneled corner office. He waved me toward the leather chair across from his desk, fingers laced over a neat stack of client receipts.
“I have a rather unusual favor to ask, Evan,” he said, clearing his throat and avoiding my eyes.
“Of course, Mr. Gordon. What do you need?” I assumed a supplier had botched another truckload of cardboard boxes.
Gordon shifted in his swivel chair, tapping the rim of his coffee mug. “Tomorrow night is my daughter Lindsey’s senior prom, at the riverfront ballroom.”
Lindsey was eighteen. I’d seen her crossing the front lobby now and then, but we’d traded little more than polite nods. I couldn’t imagine what her high school dance had to do with my weekend schedule.
“The young man she planned to go with backed out at the last minute,” Gordon went on, leaning over his desk blotter. “I want you to step in and escort her.”
I let out a disbelieving breath, searching his face for signs of an elaborate office prank. “You want me to take her?”
“You’re exceptionally responsible, and I trust you,” Gordon said, his voice firm and even. “If you do this for our family, Evan, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
My mind flashed to our wheezing, decades-old washing machine and Katie’s badly worn sneakers. Extra cash meant relief for Mom, so I swallowed my hesitation and nodded.
“I can do that, Mr. Gordon,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t look completely out of place among a crowd of wealthy high school seniors.
The next evening I borrowed an old sedan from my uncle Ray, ironed my only dark navy suit, and drove to the manicured lawns of the Grandview neighborhood. Uncle Ray had warned me the car had a mind of its own: the radio jumped stations without warning, and the front axle groaned whenever I turned the wheel sharply left.
Gordon met me at the door with an intense handshake, looking far more anxious than any father sending a teenager to a school function had a right to be. He fussed over my collar, reached out without asking, and tugged my silk tie until the knot sat centered under my chin.
“You’re five minutes early. Good discipline,” he muttered, peering past my shoulder at the driveway. “Just make sure Lindsey enjoys her evening. And if anything unexpected comes up tonight, keep a cool head.”
“What sort of unexpected things, sir?” A cold knot of dread formed in my stomach.
“Nothing of consequence,” Gordon said vaguely, just as light footsteps tapped down the oak staircase behind him.
Lindsey stepped into the hallway in an elegant emerald gown, stunning, though her warm expression collapsed into a flat scowl the second she saw me beside her father. She barely spoke two syllables while Gordon herded us under the foyer chandelier, ordering us to stand shoulder to shoulder so he could snap a dozen photos.
The drive downtown was almost completely silent, apart from the occasional metallic screech from Uncle Ray’s suspension. I tried to break the ice by asking about her favorite bands, her classes, and whether she was excited for the night, but she answered in grunts and turned back toward the window.
When I finally eased the noisy sedan into the venue lot, I cut the engine and sighed. “Well, I hope tonight goes better than you expect, because your father was determined you wouldn’t miss this dance.”
Lindsey pushed the door open into the cool night air, but paused with one silver shoe hovering above the pavement. She swiveled back in her seat and pinned me with a searching stare that left my throat dry.
“Wait a second, Evan,” she said quietly. “My dad didn’t choose you by accident. And he definitely didn’t arrange this for my benefit.”
Part 2
“What is that supposed to mean?” I gripped the steering wheel, cold sweat prickling the back of my neck.
Lindsey glanced toward the lit entrance of the ballroom, then back at me. “My dad has been watching how you handle pressure for the better part of a year.”
“Did I make a mistake at the warehouse?” My voice rose. “If I botched an invoice or damaged a pallet, you can just tell me.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” she said with a deep sigh, just as her phone lit up with a text.
She glanced at the screen, groaned softly, and tilted it toward me so I could read the preview. The message from Gordon said: Remember our agreement, Lindsey. Don’t make things too easy on him.
“Lindsey, what on earth did your father ask you to do?”
“He came up with a scheme he thinks is brilliant,” she said, rolling her eyes and settling back against the seat. “He wanted me to spend the whole evening being completely insufferable, to see if you’d lose your temper.”
