Page 49 of Doozer

I could tell my father was itching to make a comment, but instead took a beat before restarting.

“Now, as I was saying. Now that I’m retired from practicing law, I have time to focus on my other business interests.”

“I didn’t know you had other business interests.”

“I started investing in commercial real estate right around the time Carmen was born,” he said, and my mind went to the documents Kitty had discovered in his investigation of Judge Snodgrass. Whatever this was about must have something to do with their dealings together.

“Real estate, huh?” I asked.

“Yes, but always as a silent partner. I never had time for more. The firm and the family kept me more than busy.”

“The firmkept you busy,” I corrected.

“You’re probably right, son. I’m sure there were times when I did work too many hours. And maybe I didn’t spend as much time with you as I should have. But now I can change all that.”

My father’s attempt at an apology, or whatever this was, made me feel far more uncomfortable than when he’d lay into me.

“What is this all about?” I asked.

“I told you. I want to offer you a job.”

“I already have a job. I build bikes.”

“Marco, my goal is to extend an olive branch. To offer you a position that could expand your world far beyond that of a mechanic’s.”

“I’m not a mechanic. I’m a custom bike builder.” I snapped. “The work I do requires artistry and precision. I happen to be extremely proud of what I do, even if you aren’t. I’m also paid well for the work I do.”

“Do you earn enough to start a family and buy a house in Portland?”

“Who says that’s what I want? And who says it’s any of your damned business either way?”

“I’m your father,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And you don’t know anything about me,” I challenged.

“That’s not true. I may not know everything about you, but if you think I haven’t kept tabs on what my only son has been up to over the years, you don’t yet know the depth of a father’s love.”

“A father’s love?Are you fucking kidding me? When did you ever show me an ounce of your love? You spent my entire life either ignoring or disapproving of me.”

“You’re wrong, son. I’ve spent my life working in order to provide for you and your sisters. That’s how I showed my love. And I may disapprove of your lifestyle, but not of you. Not of the man I know you can still become.”

“Mylifestyle, as you call it,iswho I am. That’s what you don’t get, Pop.”

My father’s tone shifted from personal to business. “I’m offering you a starting salary of two-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars a year.”

“What?” I exclaimed, a little louder than I’d planned.

“Plus, six weeks paid leave and an annual performance bonus.”

“To do what?”

“Logistics management.”

At this point I began to worry that my father was suffering from dementia.

“I don’t even know what a logistic is let alone how you manage one,” I said. “I don’t even know what this business of yours is.”

“I’m in the middle of negotiating a land deal that is bigger and far more lucrative than anything I’ve been part of before.”

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