Page 143 of Catfish

“Which brings me to my next order of business.” I peer up at him over my rim. “Your fucking dad.”

I quickly swallow the cold liquid down my throat. “What?”

“Your dad will not stop calling me. I swear to fucking God, does he still work?”

I rake a hand over the left side of my face and mutter, “Geezus Christ.”

"After the thirtieth call, I thought something bad may have happened to you. Dude, he hasn't called me that many times since we disappeared during fall semester our junior year of college."

“We did disappear for a good four days.”

He leans over the table. “We were over the age of eighteen.” I chuckle before taking another drink of my beer.

Chase and I were overwhelmed with classes that year. They were back to back, and there was never a moment when we didn't study or have some dumbass paper to write—so we took off on the first flight to Miami and got fucked up for a few days.

“What does he want?” I ask.

“Plenty of things, why aren’t you talking to him, he can’t get ahold of you, I need to talk to you about bringing your family and—” I hold up a hand.

“I’ll take care of it, man. I’m sorry that he’s bothering you.”

"It's not that as much as it is that he's trying to play me against you," Chase alludes. "He knows better, I thought he did, but—" He shakes his head. "—I know you're feeling it too. The pressure and—shit, you're the one running for president."

I nod. “It’s been a lot.”

“And I’m sure he’s been up your ass.”

“Trying. Even crashed my lunch with Heidi Lauder.”

Chase furrows his brows as he waves down a waitress. “The attorney general?”

“I want her to run as my vice president.”

My best friend hits the table with a smile. “Damn, really? She’s pretty badass, man. She might be too cool for you.”

“She is, maybe she’ll bring my approval rating up since I’m a stone-cold mystery that everyone wants to know.”

“She’ll definitely make you more likable,” he jeers as the waitress approaches our table. “Tequila shots, please.”

I look at the blonde. “Two—apiece.” She gives a smile and goes to grab them.

“Two apiece?”

I raise my beer before taking another drink. “Two apiece.”

“Speaking of two, how’s my Emmy Lou?” He smirks, which gets him a glare.

"Leave her alone, she's too busy for your shit."

"I sent her flowers the other day for her birthday, and I didn't—" My eyes practically bulge from my head.

“What?”

“Her...birthday…”

The fuck.

I have her birthday as a reminder on my phone, I specifically did it on purpose. She’s the only person I’ve ever had that deserves for me to acknowledge it.

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