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“You know I’m not saying I’m not having fun. I’m just saying –‘”
“I know you’re a busy man. We both are. Like father like son.” Dad smiles as he takes the cart down a slope. The next hole is in sight. “But fine, you want to talk business, let’s talk.” He turns the cart suddenly away from the hole and cruises across the course aimlessly.
I glance at some players we pass, wondering what they’re thinking about the eccentric man driving the golf cart wherever he pleases. My dad has always been a bit on the wild side. I’ve taken more after my mom. Dower, serious, direct.
“I’m starting to think I might not be ready,” he says carefully.
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“You know…” He shrugs one shoulder and then shakes his head. “Wynters Group has been my life. My whole life. I’m not sure I really need to leave. I like working. I always have.”
My heart starts to race. I knew this would happen. I could tell just from the way my dad was extending the timelines of everything that needed to be done, edging my tenure as CEO further and further out of my grasp.
It’s not that I’m some disgruntled son who wants to overthrow my father’s reign. It’s not about that. It’s about legacy. Honor.
I’m ready to do it. I don’t have anything else in my life going for me except the business. If I can’t pour myself into the role of CEO, then I’ll need to find a fucking hobby. Crocheting? Knitting?
I don’t know why fiber arts are the only hobbies I can come up with.
I just know Dad will never trust me again after I don’t choose him. No matter how much I regret it, no matter how much I apologize. I don’t know if he’ll ever see me as strong enough as to make Wynters Group my life.
I’m evidently silent for too long. “Of course, this isn’t a reflection of you, Orlando.”
God, not the full name…Dad only uses my full name when he knows he’s disappointing me. And I hate that he canseethat he’s disappointing me. I don’t like to be pitied or felt sorry for.
“I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job preparing to fill my shoes. Although, you could afford to smile more.”
“Dad…”
He chuckles and then pulls the cart into the gravel driveway outside the clubhouse. “Will you hate me if I don’t go?” Dad asks, removing the keys.
It’s not a real question. He doesn’t even look at me to make sure I’m telling the truth. “I’d never hate you, Dad.”
He smiles. “Then I did something right, I guess.” Dad climbs out of the cart. “Well, what do you think? Bloody Marys on me, huh?”
I was prepared for a long business meeting where we talked about all the details of some of our plans moving forward. Instead, I’ve been conned into a Bloody Mary date with my dad. And I don’t even like Bloody Marys.
We sit at the old wooden bar, sip the infernal red concoction, and split a soft pretzel between us. At least I can chase the taste of tomato and clam juice down with a delicious pretzel.
“So –” Dad pauses to swallow his pretzel, then dabs his buttery fingers on a napkin. “You’re taking a vacation for a few weeks, right?”
I audibly sigh. “Yes.”
“Why do you sound so upset about it? I’d love a vacation.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.” If he really wanted a vacation, he could follow through with the plan to make me CEO.
My dad claps his hand on my shoulder. “Vacation would be good for you. Clear your head.”
“My headisclear.”
“When do you head up?” Dad asks.
“Friday.”
“Ah! Well, you’ll have to send me pictures.”
I smile sadly. Dad might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but we’re all each other has got. And if I’m not sending him pictures, I know he isn’t texting many other people about anything except work.
