“I’ve got the contract for a property to lease,” I said. “I’ve sent the paperwork to my lawyer to look over, and the design team are finalising the fit-out.”
He nodded. “Moving along, then?”
“Yep.”
“And the address?”
“King Street Wharf.”
This surprised him, until it didn’t. “Rent would be ridiculous. Are you sure that’s the smartest decision?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s a prime location.”
“For a prime premium. I assume you’ve factored that increase into your financial—”
“Yes, Dad. I have. Jerry looked over it himself.”
He pursed his lips, and if he was going to make a snide comment, he thankfully decided not to. “So, when will work on the storefront begin?”
“As soon as we get the green light from the owner. The design team are ready to go and they sub-contract their construction guys.” I shrugged. “Ideally, things will start this week.”
Dad nodded slowly again. “I won’t be able to meet with you for lunch,” he said, almost like an afterthought. “I’m leaving for Brisbane in an hour. It should be a quick trip. I should be home for dinner on Sunday if you wanted to do something?”
I was very used to being alone, so the pang of disappointment surprised me. “Yeah, sounds good.”
He stood there as if he wanted to say something more but didn’t know how. I gave him a smile, trying to ease the awkwardness. “I’ll order us some Greek food. That way you can come home and relax for a bit.”
His smile was genuine. “That sounds nice.” Then he cleared his throat. “So . . . you spent last night somewhere . . . ?”
I almost choked on my juice. “Uh, Dad . . .”
“You don’t have to tell me . . . but you’ve been out on the town a lot. Are you—”
Oh god. “I’m not going out on the town,” I said, whatever that meant. “I’m not getting hammered or wasted, Dad. I’m . . . seeing someone.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s kind of new.”
“Is it the same guy you were seeing the other week?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t serious.”
“It wasn’t . . .”
“And now it is?”
“Well, I don’t know. It could be.”
God, this was the worst.
“You know that a distraction is hardly—”
“He’s not a distraction, Dad. He’s a person.”
His eyes narrowed and he snapped his mouth closed. He took a breath and tried again. “Finding yourself being drawn in several directions won’t help your business. Especially when you’re just starting out. I hope he understands where your priorities are.”
I knew he meant well, and he only had my interests at heart. But god, this attitude got old, fast. “Yes, he understands. He supports me.”
That probably wasn’t as true as I made it out to be. Sure, Michael supported me. He helped me find a better venue, for fuck’s sake. But did he understand that my time would be stretched thin in the lead-up to the store opening? And I’d probably see him even less once it was operational . . .
I’m sure he did understand. He was smart, and he was a business-minded person. But maybe my dad brought up a good point. I needed to be honest and upfront with Michael. I was the one who’d said that I wanted to see him, that I wanted to date him. He didn’t suggest that. I did. I pushed for more, and now I’d have to remind him that starting my business was going to cut into our time together.
I just hoped he understood.
Goddammit.
“Anyway, if I’m going to make my flight,” he said.
“Yeah, of course.” I waited for him to collect his carryon. “Have a good flight.”
“See you tomorrow night,” he said, the front door closing behind him.
I stood there for a while in the silence, unsure of what to do with myself. I had a stack of work things to do, but after my brief and frustrating conversation with my father, I wasn’t in the right mindset.
I took my phone and hit Terrence’s number instead. “Hey, T.”
“Wassup? Everything okay?”
He could always tell. “Yeah, just spoke to my dad. You know how that is.”
“Ah, say no more.” He proceeded to tell me all about an argument he’d had with his dad yesterday at work, and the way he spun it like he always did had me smiling in no time. “Did you want to come over for dinner tonight? Or we could have a few drinks somewhere.”
“Ugh, can I take a rain check?”
“Sure.”
“I just have some things I need to go through today for the store and I have dinner plans with my father tomorrow night.”
“If you need me to call in a bomb threat, just text me the name of the restaurant.”
I laughed. “You are a good man.”
“I know.”
Then I thought of something. “But you know, next weekend could be my last before shit gets real with the store, so should we plan something for next Saturday?”
“Yes!”
“That sounds great,” I said, much happier now. “I’ll think of somewhere and let you know.”
“Bring Michael.”
That stopped me cold. I almost laughed. “What?”
“You heard. Bring him.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Shut up, Bryce,” he replied in only the way that Terrence could. “You have it bad for him. I know you do. It’s time he met the boys.”
“Oh god.”
“It’s not like you’re meeting the parents or anything,” he joked.
“Well, about that . . .”
There was a long beat of silence. “What?”
“I met his parents. It was an accident. It was horrifying and really funny, kind of. Well, more horrifying than funny.” I told him about how Michael’s father’s first impression of me was me twirling a pair of tiny Speedos and telling him to ‘get ready’ and how Michael’s sister kept making it worse and by then, Michael was drinking vodka straight from the bottle.
Terrence laughed for two minutes straight. He laughed so much I wondered if I should hang up and call him an ambulance. When he could finally speak, he said, “That’s settled then. You’re bringing him. And I know where he works. So if you don’t ask him to come along, I will.”
“You’re a horrible friend.”
“You just said I was a good man.”
“You can be both.”
“You’re bringing him, and I’ll tell the others to be on their best behaviour.”
“Oh god.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
Terrence chuckled. “Oh. You still owe me lunch. I could be free on Wednesday, twelve o’clock. Let me know where you decide we’re eating.”
And with that, the line went dead in my ear. I laughed as I threw my phone on the couch beside me. Terrence really was one of a kind and there was no point in arguing with him. So, if Michael was willing, we were doing the meeting-of-friends thing.