“Well, don’t just stand there. Have a seat.” He gestures to one of the smaller chairs in front of his ginormous desk. My feet feel stuck in place. I haven’t seen him in years. He still looks the same—dressed like a rich man in a cigar commercial. He tilts his head slightly to the right as if questioning who I am and a smile spreads across his face.
“Chris?” he says with a laugh in his voice. I push my hands in the pockets of these too-tight jeans.
“Come now, I’m not the boogeyman.” He lifts a glass of brown liquid to his lips. I swallow hard. There are tons of questions I should be asking this man—this man I’ve only known to detest and be weary of—yet he sits in front of me as if I’m his best friend. I reluctantly take a seat.
“I gather that it’s not you who asked for the meeting with me?” He leans back in his chair. It’s not a surprise that he knows the true nature of my condition. When my dad asked him for his help, of course he’d want to know all of the details and keep track especially since… he’s my biological dad.
“No,” I tell him shortly.
“Well, you have a half hour on my calendar. Most people would sell their first born child for that.” He displays a sly grin. I’ve only met Dexter Crestfield Sr. a few times in my life, and each of those times I’ve never been alone with him. I was always with my parents or a crowd. I study his face this time though, his hair is dark with streaks of grey, but still full and carefully groomed. His dark green eyes are deep set and his jaw square underneath a short-kept beard. I look at him trying to see myself in him. I can’t believe this man is my dad, and I share his blood.
“I must say that I expected more of an emotional outburst from you since the last time we met…. or when your counterpart intruded on my dinner.”
“I really don’t have anything to say to you,” I tell him coldly. He looks at me curiously, as if no one has ever said that to him. I know he’s my biological dad and I should have millions of questions for him—why he didn’t keep me, what my mother was like, did he regret giving me up—but all I see is the same man I’ve always seen. He is a distant relative with more money than one person should have and who’s used to being treated like God.
“How curious. I would think the first time you sit down with the owner of your company or at the very least, your father, that you’d have a list of things to say.” His condescending grin makes me so angry—I can feel my face harden and my whole body stiffens.
“You’re not my father. My father's name is William, my mother’s name is Gwen and regardless of who reached out to you, I don’t need or want anything from you. I have enough problems with my actual family than to go out looking for more.”
He looks at me as if studying me then lets out a laugh and nods his head.
“I like you, Chris.” He leans back in his chair. “William raised you well.” He seems pleased with himself, except how can someone be pleased over something they had nothing to do with? I imagine he’s like Dexter—a narcissist who will take credit for anything that makes him look good.
“The thing is… I see a lot of your mother in you,” he says leaning forward and my heart jumps.
“My mother’s name is Gwen,” I remind him, and he grins.
“If only that were true then you wouldn’t be as screwed up as you are.” He sniggers. I squeeze the tip of my knees.
“You don’t know anything about me.” I scoff at him and stand. He laughs and this time, it’s full of condescension.
“See that’s where you’re wrong. I know everything about you,” he says wagging a finger at me. I roll my eyes at him and shake my head in disgust, my teeth starting to grind against each other.
“I know your family obviously. I know who your friends are, every job you’ve ever held, classes you’ve taken. I even have a list of the women Cal screwed before he met that beautiful wife of his…. or yours. I also have evidence of the myriad of illegal conundrums he’s found himself in—including the newest—the attempted murder.”
“What do you want from me?” I ask him through gritted teeth.
“I want what any loving, kind father would want,” he tells me with a sincere smile but his tone is full of sarcasm. “Loyalty, honesty, and respect.” His smile is replaced with a serious sneer.
“Why would you want my loyalty or my respect? I’m just a kid you dropped off on your step kid’s doorstep.” The words feel good to say, though so foreign after I’ve said them. He laughs, but his eyes are hard as steel.
“Like it or not, we’re family… son.”
I think of my words carefully, this time before saying them. Though I can’t stand this man, I know the type of power he has, and as much as I’d like to punch him in the face, he’s not an enemy that I want or can afford to have with all of the things I have going on. I do know that for some reason he considers me a threat, or he wants something from me. He stands from his desk and walks toward me. Looking at him, he’s taller than I thought, maybe an inch taller than me.
“Family looks out for one another.” He leans against the front of his desk so that he’s closer to me. “Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand but it’s all for the best. We’re like a team. You and I, Dexter and Helen…. Lauren. If one domino falls, we all do.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and I have to stop myself from removing it.
“It’s good to be on the winning team, Christopher. I know that William probably painted me as some big, bad villain, but I’m not like that at all,” he says as if he’s the most misunderstood person on the planet. “I am a family man. It’s of the upmost importance to me. I’ll do anything to protect the ones that I love. I’m sure we both have that in common. So it’s in my best interest that you fall along the same line that everyone else does.” He pauses and I’m not sure if he’s waiting on a response or if he’s just doing it for dramatic effect.
“We’re on the same page, yes?”
“Sure. Whatever,” I tell him. His eyes stare into mine as if trying to identify my weaknesses, then he shoots me a wide smile.
“Great,” he walks back over to his desk and picks up the phone.
“Ellen, can you come and escort Mr. Scott down to Dexter Jr.’s office please?”
“It was nice talking to you, Christopher. We must do this again soon.”
I scratch my head and turn to open the door, but the woman from earlier has already opened it.
“You can follow me, Mr. Scott.” She waits for me to follow her. I walk behind her still thinking of how weird the conversation I just had with Dexter Sr. was. I felt like I was being interrogated and threatened at the same time, but he didn’t even raise his voice once. There was something sinister behind his smile almost like a threat underneath his words.
“Here we are,” she says opening the door to another office. I smile gratefully at her. Does she know? If I work here, wouldn’t she think it’s weird that I have to be taken places that I should know about already?
“Christopher, it’s good to see you,” he says. I walk into the office and feel relieved for the first time in my life seeing Dexter. After meeting his father, it’s great seeing an old friend.