Dirty Princes (Hot Candy 3)

“Fiber? Protein? You’re careful with the fat?”

“Yes.”

“Are you doing your standard check-ups?”

“Sure,” I reply without missing a beat. Small lies go a long way, and my father has been obsessed with doctors and health since Mom died ten years ago.

“Everything fine, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

This is standard conversation over lunch. My father has very strict views about eating habits. Also about exercise habits, hygiene habits and living habits.

“You know I’m worried about you, son.”

Surprised, I look up. This is out of order. I mean, sure I know he worries in general, but this direct statement… “I’m fine.”

He’s staring at me, and I shift in my hard seat.

Hard seats, hardwood furniture, dark paneling, medals and diplomas hanging from the walls. The house my mom loved has been slowly turning into a dark castle. A man cave.

My father never even considered looking for another wife. For all I know, he hasn’t even as much as looked at another woman in his life.

“Good,” he eventually says, and goes back to cutting up his steak in precise little bites. “What about your love life? Anyone you’d like me to meet?”

Fuck, no.

Though this question isn’t so out of the ordinary, so I settle back down, chewing my greens. “No, sir.”

“You know I’m here for you, Ryan.”

I smile at that. “I know.”

He’s a good father. He could never replace Mom even if he tried. He’s too rigid, too curt, too… cold.

But he has tried. Done his best. He made sure I lacked nothing growing up. And he accepts me as I am.

At least I think he does. We’ve never talked about my sexuality. Hell, we’ve never even talked about my favorite food or color, so yeah.

I mean, I like girls. A lot. I’ve slept with my fair share of women. But I like guys, too, although apart from a few casual encounters, a blowjob or a handjob in the dark, I never gave them much thought.

Anyway, I assume my father is telling me that he’d be fine whether I brought home a girlfriend or a boyfriend.

Then again, I might be wrong. It’s not like he explains himself much. In fact, this conversation is the most we’ve had on any average week, during our ritual lunch meeting.

“Nobody at all you like?” My father sends another of those searching looks my way.

Or maybe he’s looking for the salt. I’ve been looking for it, too.

“No, I…” There’s one girl. One persistent, annoying, funny girl. But… “No.”

He shakes his head. “One day you’ll find the one meant for you, like I did,” he says.

And then lost her, I think, a shadow passing over my soul. That almost broke you in half. Almost sent you after her.

Nobody should have to go through such pain.

***