Page 76 of More Than Chemical
My heart started beating faster. My phone was slippery in my hand. “But aren’t you banned from university property?”
“No, I’m not, and besides, Big Mike’s isn’t on school property.”
“It’s really close. Across the street.”
“Oh, right.”
I wasn’t sure what was going through my dad’s brain. He couldn’t possibly go to a restaurant by campus. People would recognize him and cause a scene. And I’d be there. What a mess.
“All right, how about I put in an order for Big Mike’s, you pick it up, and I drive by and get you in the car?”
All I could imagine was walking in there and asking for David Bianchini’s sub order and everyone looking at me like I was a monster.
“How aboutIput in the order at Big Mike’s, I pick it up, and then you drive by and I get in your car?”
He went silent.
I waited.
“All right. I’ll pick you up at noon.”
I let out a large breath. “Sounds good. See you there.”
And it was over. The first real conversation I’d had with my dad in months. Strange how anticlimactic it had been. Like no time had passed at all.
Three days later, when I arrived at the sandwich place, I got our order easily. No looks. No nothing.
I stepped outside…and Dad was already there, waving to me. I crawled into the car and held my breath, not really knowing what to expect.
“Hi, Ade!” Dad leaned over and gave me one of his bear hugs. Reluctantly, I patted him on his back before he pulled away from the curb.
My dad had always been in shape, and that hadn’t changed. But today his clothes got my attention. He looked fancy. A collared shirt, a tie, a sweater vest, and a blazer over it. All coordinated. The only time I’d ever seen him wear suit-type clothing was on game days.
His face looked the same. Not bad, like his mug shot, but what my dad normally looked like. Cool and collected. That Italian Mafia charm that made people of any age hang on to his every word. He was even chewing gum like he always had. It smelled like his usual, sweet mint Orbit.
“Did you get me the roast beef?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “Why are you all dressed up?”
He shrugged. He put on his blinker and merged into traffic.
“How’s school going?” he asked.
“Good,” I said.
Then silence. Lots of silence. Certainly he wasn’t expecting me to give him a play-by-play of my classes and my grades?
I broke the quiet. “I saw you on the news.”
He flinched. “You did?”
“On Sunday night. They were reporting on your upcoming trial.”
His chin dipped down, and he grimaced. “That’s disappointing. I thought the press had grown tired of me. Now it means they’ll be there, at the courthouse, hounding my lawyer for interviews.”
“Mom says you have a pretty good case.”
He perked up a bit. “I do, and actually the trial is one of the reasons I wanted to get together with you this week.”
