Daniel: Right away.
He stood and pocketed his phone, then went to the back of the store, passing the young man who was now rubbing the back of his neck as he stared helplessly at the tuxedos in front of him.
Daniel arrived to see Arthur preening in front of a three-way mirror, the haberdasher standing to the side and nodding his approval. The suit wasn’t a tailored fit, but it looked good, and the shirt and tie underneath were a flawless choice.
“What do you think?” Arthur pressed his palm against his midriff, over the two fastened buttons.
Daniel didn’t respond right away, even though he was planning to say the first thing that came to mind—that it was a nice suit that he wore well. He’d learned Arthur liked more measured responses, and Daniel understood that. When he first started working for him, he thought the man was a little full of himself. He quickly realized that Arthur was plainspoken and straight to the point. Arthur Pickett knew he looked good. There was no reason to deny it.
After pausing the appropriate amount of time and giving him a visual once-over, Daniel said, “Nice suit. You wear it well.” He held back a chuckle, keeping a straight face while his boss conferred with the haberdasher and scheduled a fitting.
“Excuse me.”
Daniel turned to see the young man holding up a tux jacket as he walked toward them. “Can you help me with—” His face turned chalk white.
“I’ll be right with you,” the haberdasher said. “I apologize, we’re short staffed today.”
But the kid didn’t respond. He clutched the jacket and stared... at Arthur.
Arthur’s expression was unreadable, but his hand started to tremble as he touched the knot of his tie. He blinked, then shoved his hand into the jacket pocket and moved toward the young man, stopping a few inches from him. Clearing his throat, he said, “Hello... son.”
***
Hunter’s knee bobbed up and down as he sat in the back seat of his father’s twelve-year-old Bentley while the driver whizzed through downtown with some serious skill. This was a mistake. A massive one. This morning he planned to rent a tux for his father’s upcoming birthday party before he headed for work. Although it was still a little over a month away, he wanted to make sure he reserved it. He knew he couldn’t go to just any man’s store. He had to go to Hutton’s, a place he hadn’t stepped foot inside since his brother Payne’s wedding six years ago. He’d gotten drunk and made a complete idiot of himself at the reception. That was the last time he’d been invited to a family event, until now.
As soon as he walked inside the boutique, he regretted it. He wanted to go to Dad’s party, and he wanted to dress as he was expected to. But inhaling the mix of leather, luxury fabrics, and several kinds of expensive cologne reminded him that he was no longer apart of the elite society that could afford to shop here. He almost walked out, and he’d caught the guy in the chair staring at him before he pulled up his big boy pants and went to the tuxedo section.
Turns out that guy was Dad’s driver, and as soon as his father had settled with the haberdasher, he asked Hunter why he was there. Lying had been second nature for most of his life, so he said he was on an errand for a friend, but they didn’t have his size. The party was a surprise, and he didn’t want to blow it. Hunter thought that was all he had to say, that he and Dad would part ways like they had two years ago—the last time they’d been in the same room together and his parents had cut all ties with him. That parting had been a lot more acrimonious.
Instead, Dad said, “Let’s go for a ride.”
Those words never boded well for knuckleheads in gangster movies, although Hunter didn’t think his father had ill intentions. But his expression and tone didn’t give him a choice, and he followed Dad and his driver to the car. On Dad’s signal, the driver opened the back door, and Hunter climbed inside, followed by his father.
“How long has it been, Hunter?” Dad asked.
He shrugged and stared out the window.Two years, five months, ten days. But who’s counting?
“It’s—” Dad cleared his throat. “Good to see you.”
A little ice melted around Hunter’s heart. He looked at him. “Good to see you, Father.”
Dad scoffed. “You and your brothers. Always so formal with me. Well, that’s your mother’s doing.”
“How is she?” Hunter couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“She’s fine. Had a knee replacement last year. Also a little nip and tuck around her neck, if you know what I mean.” His eyes softened. “She didn’t need it. Wrinkles and all, she’s beautiful to me.”
He smiled a little. He loved his parents, despite the horrible way he’d shown it. They finally put a boundary up, and it worked. But that didn’t mean he’d ever be permanently welcomed back into the fold.
“Still seeing your parole officer?”
Hunter cringed and glanced at the driver, who was staring straight ahead, sunglasses covering his eyes and the rest of his face unreadable.
“Don’t mind Daniel,” Dad said. “He’s completely trustworthy.”
Sinking against the supple leather seat—he had always loved this car—he nodded. “Haven’t missed a check-in.”
“Good. Still sober?”
