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“Where the fuck did you go?” he demands, instantly putting my back up. “I didn’t say you could go shopping or anything and spend my fucking money. I had to make my own goddamn sandwich. What good are you if you’re never here to take care of me? It’s always the same old shit with you.”
God, I hate him.
“I didn’t go shopping,” Mom says as we round the corner to the kitchen.
Dad stops short, having just finished licking the mustard off a butter knife, and his scowl turns into a smile when he sees me.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Welcome home, son! Did you come home to celebrate our new contract? Hell of a thing, isn’t it?”
He sets the knife aside and rounds the island to me, pulling me in for a manly, shoulder-slapping hug.
His body has gotten softer since I last saw him. The beer belly has grown, and his muscles have atrophied. He’s in his late-fifties and living a life of leisure.
“Damn, it’s good to see you. Melanie, make us something to eat, why don’tcha?”
“No, it’s okay, Mom. I need to talk to you, Dad.”
His eyes narrow on me, and the first film of ice forms over his face.
“All right. Let’s go into the living room and talk. Come on, Mel.”
“Just you and me,” I reply and look back to wink at my mom.
She already has her phone in hand. I hope she’s about to call her sister while I take care of this with Dad because, after that little display, there’s no way in hell that I’m leaving her here. No way.
“Okay.” He leads me into the living room with big leather recliners and a ridiculously huge TV hanging on one wall. “What do you think of that? I needed something bigger to watch your games on.”
“You’ll be able to see my nose hair on that thing.”
Dad laughs and nods, then sits in his recliner like a king on his throne.
“What’s on your mind, son?”
“I want to start this by saying that I hope you can return that fancy new truck in the driveway.”
His face turns red, but he doesn’t speak. Not yet.
“You don’t have the money for it.”
“I’m about to have millions.”
“From where?”
He sputters and leans forward. “Don’t tell me you fucked up and got fired without pay.”
“I’m not the one who has fucked up,” I reply evenly. “Yes, I’m earning a very good paycheck. I am, Dad. Not you.”
“Why, you ungrateful little fuck.”
“No, you don’t get to do that to me anymore. I’m not ungrateful, and we both know it. I’ve handed over millions to you. Not to mention, you made a hell of a bunch of money off the sale of the farm but didn’t bother to put it towards this house.”
“That’s my money.”
“Right. Well, here’s some truth for you, Dad. This house? It’s in my name. I’m going to sign it over to you, and it’s the last thing I’m going to give you.”
“I can’t afford the taxes on this dump!”
I simply stare at him for a long minute, and then I laugh my ass off. “Well, then I guess you can sell it and buy something else that you can afford. I bailed you out of a lot of shit, Dad. I had you debt free, with a beautiful home and truck, and pretty much whatever you needed, but that wasn’t enough. You’ve managed to siphon off every single dime of that first contract.”
“I’m entitled.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just not.”
“So, you’re just going to keep four hundred million dollars to yourself and let your mother and me starve?”
“No. Not at all. Mom won’t want for anything. And let’s be honest, you’re not exactly starving here. You’ll figure it out.”
“I can’t believe I raised you to be a selfish son of a bitch.”
“Why not? I learned it from you.”
He couldn’t look more surprised if I punched him in the face. “You little bastard.”
“Enough.”
This comes from Mom in the doorway. We both look her way, and I’m pleased to see her hands on her hips and her face set firmly.
“You won’t speak to my son that way. He’s spoken his mind, and he has a right to feel the way he does. Maybe if you hadn’t been so greedy, it wouldn’t be this way, Clark.”
“This is none of your business, you ugly bitch.”
“And, we’re done.” I narrow my eyes at him before I walk to Mom and drape my arm over her shoulders, but she just pats my hand and steps forward.
Dad’s panting and has wild eyes.
“If you take a swing at her, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
“Did you tattle?” he demands of my mom. “Did you go crying to Ike and tattle about all the little things I’ve done like I’m in trouble? Jesus, Mel, I only hit you once, and you deserved it!”
