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Dad guffawed loudly. Seemed he was relishing the new leaf he assumed I was turning over. “C’mon, son. Let me have it. You know a good businessman never beats around the bush.”
God, he was a blow-hard asshole. Not to mention, completely lacking any ability for self-reflection. That’s what happened when you went through life and no one ever called you out on your shit. It was like that when you had money. People suck up and after a while you began to ‘believe your own press’.
“Yes Dad. You did always say that. Anyway, my friend Kealy is starting her own men’s wear collection, and I thought we might invest.”
Silence.
“Dad? You there?”
“Marlon, did you say something about the apparel business?” he boomed.
Oh, Christ. “Yeah, I did. She’s a very talented designer, and—”
“Okay, let me stop you right there. The Talbot family does not dabble in clothing, or anything else silly like that.”
Unbelievable. And the smug jerk wondered why I ran away from him as fast as I freaking could.
“Well, Dad, I’m sorry to hear you feel that way, but I understand. Sorry to have bothered you—”
“Now, wait a minute, Marlon. You called to talk to me about investing in a fashion designer? I like that you’re developing a head for business, son, but next time, please come to me with a real venture. One that is respectable and promises great profit margins.”
And there we had it. Respectable. That was the word that was on the tip of his tongue our entire conversation, and which he was waiting, like a lion hunting his prey, to spring on me. As if he could kill me with it.
And in a way, I guess he did.
