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“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he smiles condescendingly like he wasn’t just talking about me behind my back. He must think I’m a complete idiot.
“I thought I’d drop by to say hi to my doting Dad,” I sling back.
His smile drops. It’s not even a genuine one, anyway. “I hear you’re visiting your Mother this week?”
“Good news travels fast.”
“We need to talk before then.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?”
He shakes his head at me and walks over to his liquor cabinet. My dad isn’t a heavy drinker, but shit must be going down if he’s swilling down short drinks during the day. He offers me the decanter, and I shake my head. “That was Carson,” he tells me.
I feign a yawn. Here we go.
“He has the proposition of all propositions.”
I slouch into the chair opposite his desk and cross one ankle over my knee.
“Yeah, and what is that? Let me guess, you want to acquire a generational company and sell its parts until there's nothing left?
He glares at me. “That’s how you make money in business, son. You swoop in when there are signs of trouble. You take no prisoners.”
“Almost the same as stealing. Isn’t that how you acquired the shipping yard? The company had over-capitalized and couldn’t pay their loans… you swooped in before they foreclosed and bought it for a song.”
“That’s the name of the game.” He shrugs. “I may not have acquired it after it went into foreclosure. It’s smart, if you ask me.”
He knows nothing about any game except bullying others out of business.
Maybe I am a romantic after all, but it seems pretty heartless.
“Is it, Dad? Do you sleep well at night?”
He sighs. “The I-don't-want-to-work-with-my-father act is getting old. It’s expected of you that you will stand by me when the time comes. It’s always been this way. I don’t know why you fight it.”
I laugh, and it sounds very fake, which I’m glad about. “I will never stop fighting it, Father dearest, because I want no part of it.”
He shakes his head at me, throwing back a shot of whisky. “We’ll see.”
“I’m also a ‘little rich kid’ of my own accord. Everything I’ve done has been on my own.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
“Are you going to tell me about your proposition or not?” I don’t even know why I’m humoring him.
“Company expansion,” he says, simply.
Bingo.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You need to understand that I made my choice long ago.”
“Your precious ice hockey career won’t go on forever, kid,” he tells me, like I’m a child that knows nothing. “Then what will you do? Be paid a mere pittance to coach junior kids. Do you think it will be enough for your retirement? Won’t you miss the crowds chanting your name, not to mention the endorsements, the publicity, and the groupies? Make no mistake, you love the attention; you all do.”
I scoff at him. “You know nothing about what I want.” And I resent the groupies comment. He’s referring to puck bunnies, of course.Asshole.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Even after twenty-eight years, you still don't seem to understand. I heard you talking to Carson, hashing up some plan for me. You’re all living in dreamland.”
