“Television is pretty much all that you do, isn’t it?” Dalton grinned. Before I could respond, he had closed his book and was crossing over to the couch.
I followed after him; soon, I was comfortably curled up beside his large, warm form. “Why don’t you choose?” I asked him. “Let’s see what you’re interested in…”
“Alright,” he grinned, reaching for the remote. “My tastes are pretty eclectic, though. Kind of come with the territory of swapping countries, jumping into the military, and already having a rebellious streak straight up my arse beforehand…”
He cycled through some options, hovering over a few documentaries and action series, before selecting a stand-up comedian I hadn’t heard of.
“Oh, this is one of my favorite guys,” he chuckled. “Hope you enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself,” I grinned, and we nestled up a little closer together. That’s how we spent the rest of the evening – pressed against one another, his arm around my shoulder, and laughing hysterically at a string of fantastic comedians… with some leftover takeout on the coffee table.
As far as home dates go, it was pretty great.
Chapter 7
Clara and I were just falling into a routine as a text out of the blue caught me by surprise. Even as I made eye contact with my father, sitting halfway down the bar with a few empty stools surrounding him, I couldn’t fathom why he’d contacted me.
> Need to talk. Drinks tonight?
I brushed past a few bar patrons as I made my way over. To my surprise, instead of being the life of the party, my father was apparently deeply lost in thought. Taking my seat beside him, I reciprocated his warmth as he firmly clasped his hand against my opposite shoulder blade.
“Thanks for joining me on such short notice, son,” my father greeted me happily. He seemed to be glad to be free from whatever thoughts were in his head. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Whiskey neat,” I answered.
“Alrighty then.” He clicked his fingers a few times for the bartender, ordering me the drink. We sat in silence for a moment, watching the man quickly pour my refreshment before sliding it to my hands.
“So, what’s gotten you rattled?” I asked politely, preferring to get straight to the matter of things.
“Little blunt there, aren’t you?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Don’t you want to catch up a few minutes, first?”
“Dad, I just saw you maybe two weeks ago,” I reasoned. “I figured that we were essentially past the small talk stage again…”
“Hogwash,” he replied in a half-mutter. “We were visiting together for the first time, all of us as a family. It was different. This is more about you and I.”
“I was under the impression that you and I were good,” I told him, sipping my drink. “Is there something new that I’m not aware of?”
“No, no, everything’s fine between us,” my father deflected calmly. “It’s just that… I wanted to know where you’re going in life, now that you’re out of the Marines and you’re in school.”
“This is an odd time to ask that question. I’ve been out for the entire summer, after all. Only been an hour’s drive away.”
“I know, son,” he groaned, ignoring his beer for the moment. “I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit distant, it’s just that I haven’t seen much of you since your days in high school, and I’ve… forgotten, maybe, how to be a better father to you.”
Oh, it’s this again.
“You’ve been a great father,” I told him. “I know we didn’t see eye-to-eye all the time, but you did the best you could with raising me. I know that you’re busy with work, and with your girlfriend. I’ve been tied up too. I could have picked up the phone myself, so it’s not just your fault.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but then didn’t. “I understand. I just… I still feel bad about things. I wish I could have been better. That I could have given you more.”
“It’s not your fault,” I retorted.
“Yes, it is, son. I made a mistake. That mistake cost me a great deal.”
“You learned from your mistake. It’s not your fault that the Carlyle Fortune was ripped from your hands. I have never held you responsible for that.”
“Right,” Father nodded, sipping from his beer again. “Well, it’s just that…”
Things suddenly clicked.
“You want to know my plans for the future? Is this because of the money?” I asked, trying to determine where he was going with this. “Are you hard up for cash?”
“What? No, of course not!” He replied almost indignantly. After a second, the anger calmed down out of his eyes – the last vestiges of his former self, sometimes threatening to resurface out from his calm and pleasant demeanor. “This has nothing to do with the money… for me. I’ve made my own way, and I’m lucky that my career has paid as well as it has.”
“You were robbed of it,” I contested.
“Be that as it may… I want to know what your designs for your inheritance are. As you’re aware, you’ll receive it on your 30th birthday, assuming that you’ve fulfilled your grandparents’ criteria. You’re 26 years old now. What are you doing until then?”
I was taken slightly aback by the question, but I drank from my glass and answered anyway.
“Seeing as I’ve done nothing to diminish the family name, not that they’re aware of, at any rate, I’m certain that I’ll be–”
“The whoring around?” He cut in, questioningly. I knew that he meant it as an innocent question, and not an insult.
“–Yes, they’re none the wiser. This leaves my place of standing in society, and my higher education. It would appear that things lined up properly. Eight years in the marines, a veteran of the Iraq War, and now four years of college until I obtain my degree. All of that, just in time to have my 30th birthday and win my birthright – the birthright that should have been yours.”
“So that’s the plan, then? No surprises?”
I felt suddenly compelled to mention Clara, but banished the thought. Why on earth would I do something as stupid as that?
“If there are any surprises, they’ll be as much to you as they are to me,” I replied coolly, taking another sip of whiskey before the ice began to melt in earnest. “Being preoccupied with these things means that I wouldn’t have the time to get into too much trouble.”
“Wise choice,” he nodded approvingly. “What are you pursing for your degree?”
“Haven’t quite decided,” I mused aloud. “I’d like to say something practical, just in case I manage to piss off my grandparents before the inheritance kicks in… but honestly, I’m thinking something easy. I think I’ve got this in the bag.”
My father took a deep swig, watching me carefully over the tip of his beer. “You realize, of course, that dearest Mum and Dad have incredibly high standards... what makes you so sure?”
“Simple,” I shrugged. “The worst thing I’ve done is fuck a lot of women, a detail that they won’t ever need to know. They’ve already accepted my Marine career as meeting their needs. School is literally all I have left to do… that, and bide my time.”
“And what will you do with all that money?” He asked curiously, clicking his fingers to request another beer for himself. “What happens when you earn your birthright?”
“I give you yours, and I travel the world.”
“No, son, my time’s passed,” he shook his head. “That’s all yours. I have enough money to live happily. I can retire in ten years and call that that until the end of my days.”
“Yeah, but Dad… you shouldn’t have had to work,” I countered.
“Originally, no,” he conceded. “But I made do. I made my own way in the world, without their support or their money.”
“And where has that gotten you?” I asked, growing weary of his tone.
“Happy,” he explained. “Once I understood the ramifications of losing the inheritance, it was just William Carlyle versus
the world. I made do. I survived. Nay, I persevered. And from that perseverance came my life now, with this wonderful woman, a well-paying job, and a son who has proven me proud.”
“I don’t think I understand where you’re going with this,” I stated bluntly, taking another deep swig of the whiskey.
Father sighed tiredly. “You’ve always been so focused on the bloody money. Every major decision you’ve ever made has included your grandparents. Your entire life since adolescence has been run by their expectations. Don’t you wish you had freedom? Don’t you want to know who you are without that in your future?”
“I can have my freedom when it’s mine,” I grumbled through gritted teeth. “When I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life.”
“That’s not technically true,” he replied.
“Excuse me?”
My father paused, choosing his words carefully. “You realize that there are stipulations, right? Ways to lose access to the Carlyle Fortune?”
I didn’t know that, and my stunned expression seemed to convey the point.
“What, did you really think that you could play the game and just wait out the clock?” He chuckled condescendingly, with a heavy shake of his head. “Don’t be stupid, boy. The inheritance has passed down the family line for generations. How, do you think, it has managed to keep itself together, instead of being completely blown on the first gluttonous maniac to wield it?”
Anger started to boil up inside me.
Why am I hearing about this NOW?
Father watched my reaction for a few seconds before he continued. “I’m not surprised that they didn’t explain that part to you. If I’d known, I would have done so years ago… you can’t do whatever you want with the money. That’s foolhardy, and it compromises the succession. You can only use so much of it a year, and you have to inject some money back into it. That’s how they’ve held onto it all these years.”