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"Dad, you're winning again," I exclaimed several moves later.
"Yeah, because you're distracted. Thinking about that ex-wife of yours?"
"No," I said truthfully. "Just about the shit show that followed."
"Son, you'll get over this. Now come on, give me a real game. I prepared for this all week."
A pang of guilt rose in my chest. I was a lousy son. Sure, work kept me busy, but I could find time to drop by Dad's house more than once a week. It was one of the only times he got human interaction, aside from Dora. Most of his friends were the same age and not as mobile as they used to be either.
"When does your charity thing start?"
"I have plenty of time."
"I know you. You're trying to weasel your way out of it."
I held up my hand in despair. "I dislike events as a rule. And the ones for charity even more. I prefer to simply write a check. Just the fact that they're organizing a party for it means some of that money's going to be swallowed up by the event itself."
"Yes, but being able to boast about the celebrity attendees will likely attract more people. They’ll pay good money to rub elbows with the likes of you."
I laughed. "Right. It still doesn't make me keen on going."
"It'll do you good to get out. And checkmate. Want a drink? Some sage advice?"
"Nah, you don’t need to commiserate with me."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I clearly do. I just beat your ass. Third week in a row. Come on. I need you to bring your best game."
"Want to play another one?" I asked.
"No. One time's the charm. It's when all the adrenaline happens. The game is boring without it."
We spoke about my week for another twenty minutes, until it was time for me to leave.
"All right, then. I'll go," I said.
"See you next week, son."
"I'll drop by before that," I replied.
"No, no. I don't want you coddling me. You've got enough on your plate running Waldorf Fashion."
"I'm good with time management, Dad. I just don't like events."
"Son, make the best out of it."
That was his motto in life. To his credit, he always made the best out of every situation. He could have been crippled by pain at Mom's passing, but he wasn't. He was housebound and yet still full of life. I had plenty to learn from my dad, and I was glad to have him as an example to look up to.
I'd started Waldorf Fashion fifteen years ago, and he and Mom cheered me on from the get-go. Obviously, neither of us expected it to take off the way it did. I'd worked hard, yes, but I also had luck.
As I got into the car, my driver looked in the mirror. "Straight to the event, sir? Do you want to drop by the office too? We could still swing by, although that wouldn't leave you much time."
I considered this for a moment. Headquarters was above the flagship store on the Miracle Mile, and traffic was a nightmare at this time of the day.
"No. Let’s head straight to the event." Punctuality was my forte. I might not be a fan of charity events, but I'd agreed to attend, and I was going to do it properly. I never did anything half-assed.
We arrived thirty minutes later.
"Good thing we didn't drop by the office," my driver said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. "Do you need me to pick you up, sir?"
