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I adjust myself.Damn.It’s been too long since I’ve been with a woman. That’s the only reason I’m reacting this way. Or so I tell myself.
“I’m trying to put distance between us,” I say finally, partly in reassurance to Derek and mostly an affirmation to myself.
Derek folds his arms across his chest, giving me one of those sardonic glares that make men feel like fools. “What you need is to just get over it. If you like this girl, then risk it. Otherwise, stop whining about it and put it behind you.”
I’m confused. Did he just tell me to risk being with Aly? “Weren’t you the one who said I should hold back for a while?”
“I said, ‘you should be careful’. Now, whether that means taking a step back or just not showing her off around town, that’s up to you.” Derek closes the distance between us. His hand rises to rest on my shoulder. “That was before I knew you were going to be this sad mess of a man. It’s pathetic really.”
He moves past me toward the door, straightening his tie and checking out the door once before exiting. “You look like shit, and uh...I can’t be seen with you.”
“Thanks.” I laugh it off and follow him out the door anyway.
We make it to the elevator, neither one of us speaking for fear of being overheard. But in the empty elevator, Derek offers his one last shred of advice. “Look, it seems like you genuinely care for her. So make it work. But keep your dick in your pants unless you’re completely behind closed doors.”
I groan as the doors open, and he walks out. “Thanks. Got it.”
The drive home is surprisingly less quiet, with my thoughts filling the emptiness around me. I want to be with her. But I don’t want her to get hurt. Where would all of this lead us anyway? Do I plan on seeing Aly long-term? Or is this something I need to do just to get her out of my system?
My thoughts follow me into the house, keeping me so distracted I don’t notice the man sitting in my living room. “Evening, son.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise up.
“Dad, what a pleasant surprise. How did you get in?”
My father shrugs casually, the shoulders on his navy suit jacket barely lifting with him. He’s wearing a button-down shirt underneath his blazer. The shirt flares at the top, the first two unbuttoned holes allowing for the two halves to fan outward. He looks so relaxed, so calm. Like the eye before the storm. “I’ve had a copy of your key for months. I bribed your maid.”
Great, so now she’s getting fired.
Who am I kidding? I can’t fire anyone. And she does such amazing work. I’ll just change the locks.
I drop my things by the door and walk across to the drink cart. I’m suddenly in need of a stiff drink.
“Shall I pour you a scotch?” The bottle lifts much easier than I expected. I raise it up toward the light and realize the liquor is almost completely gone. I haven’t even had a sip of this thing. But clearly my father has been waiting here for quite some time. “Another one?”
My father tilts the drink in his hand upward in a half-handed toast. Why is he here? Drinking all my good scotch, putting me on edge. I thought the most difficult issue I’d have to deal with today was Aly. Only now, I see the error of my ways, and there is absolutely no turning back once my father has you in his crosshairs.
“Where’s your car?” I ask instead, filling the silence. How convenient he hid it from view. He probably knew I’d keep driving if I saw it in my driveway. “Going for the element of surprise?”
“No, I didn’t want to leave the Phantom running outside here. Too many…” He pauses, searching the air for the right description. “...economy cars. So I told Jim to drive around the neighborhood a few times until I’m ready.”
“Your driver’s name is Paul, Dad.”
“No, it’s Jim now.”
“What happened to Paul?”
“Nothing.” My father shakes his head, completely confused by my question. “It’s the same guy. Jim is just easier to say, so I had him change it from Paul.”
“What, legally?”
“Yes, legally.” He scoffs. “What else?”
My hand rises to my forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles forming there. As the throbbing in my head persists, my fingertips move to my temples and along my brow, where my scar cuts across the two. “Dad, you can’t have ‘legally changing your name’ as a job requirement.”
Dad waves a flippant gesture. “He’s fine. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want to.”
“Why are you here?” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them.
