Page 11 of Faking It

“Listen, Dad. I’m not the son you’ve always wanted, and I’m sorry, but I’m going to turn that offer down.”

“Like hell you will,” he growls. “Have you forgotten how much you owe me?”

Cynthia rises from the couch, her discomfort now highlighted by the heavy blush on her cheeks. “Let’s give them some privacy, gentlemen,” she suggests, and the others nod. Ryan pats my shoulder with a pitiful expression before going out.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I finally reply when the door closes behind them. “And I’ve already started paying you back.”

We have an agreement. For every earning I make, he gets half. Lately, I haven’t been earning as much as I used to, but I was assured of Dad’s patience. Based on this conversation, it seems I was wrong.

“You’re still in my debt. Seven hundred thousand and fifty thousand dollars, to be exact,” he reminds me. “That new car after you totaled your old ride, maintenance on your property, paying your entire staff each month, your personal expenses—”

“Got it, Dad!” I don’t need the entire list. I hate that he makes me feel like a fucking fifteen year old.

“Do you, really?” His voice has a dangerous edge. “It means I’ve got you by the balls, son. As long as I do, I’m going to getmy own way. Understood?”

“I didn’t ask for your support,” I reply.

“What choice did you have, after throwing all your money away?”

My teeth grind so hard, I fear they’re about to shatter. I grip the phone, resisting the urge to smash it against the wall. “That’s a low blow, even for you. My investment banker cleaned out my accounts and made off with all my money. You were there when it happened. You know being broke isn’t my fault.”

That familiar pang hits my stomach, like it usually does whenever I think about that awful day. Getting that urgent call from the CEO of the equity firm where I’d stored all my funds, going into that meeting, seeing the panic on their faces, hearing the news that turned my world upside down…

Fifty million. Gone. Just like that, I became a pauper.

Well, not quite. I bought my house with cash, so it’s all mine. Besides this seven-bedroom, five acre property and my car, I have only one other asset.

“Potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one controlling the purse strings,” he replies, and I hear the smugness in his tone.

“I’m going to pay you back every single cent, that’s a promise. But Dad, I can’t take this role. There’s something I really need to do.”

“What’s more important than getting back on top? I’m sick of Martin boasting about Mike’s achievements. It’s my turn to boast, too.”

God knowsI’msick of this pissing competition Dad and his ‘best friend’ have going on since Michael and I were kids. Even after all these years, they haven’t realized it did more harm than good. Michael has always been a jerk, but we got along fairly until our dads pitted us against each other, making us friendly rivals. Heavy on the rivalry, light on the friendship.

“Son, I’m done with the back-and-forth. You’re going to take that role.”

“Respectfully, Dad, I decline. Give me a month or two, and I’ll audition for another role. Whatever I earn, I’ll pay you back.”

There’s a long silence, during which I check the phone to confirm he’s still online. “Dad.”

He chuckles, a deep, musical rumble, reminding me of his Broadway days. “For some reason, you assume you have a say in this.”

“Yes, I do, and I just made my choice. I’m not doing the movie.”

Dad laughs again, leaving me puzzled and irritated. What’s so fucking funny?

“You read that contract before signing, right?” he asks.

“Of course, I did.” Well, all the important parts, anyway. I’m still flabbergasted that he had a loan contract prepared for me. For hell’s sake, I’m his son! I can’t imagine how he treats anyone who isn’t family. It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s an icebox where his heart should be.

“Did you really?” he presses, and pleasantness in his tone alerting me. Something’s wrong. Very wrong. My chest tightens with a sudden alarm.

“Just tell me what I missed,” I say wearily. It’s fruitless trying to brace myself. I can’t predict the force of whatever’s coming.

“The fine print, my boy,” he says cheerfully. “I’d find that copy if I were you.”

I break into an instant run, dashing down the hall and into my office. Unlocking the safe, I pull out the folder containing the loan contract. I never thought much of it. I assume it was my father being over-the-top. Never once did I expect my callousness would come back to bite me in the ass.

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