FABLE
From time to time I see my dad watching Alastaire suspiciously, but I'm sure it's not so much that he's picking up the bad blood at the table – rather, I suspect that his Googling turned up more than just the boys' food preferences.
My suspicions are confirmed during dessert, when my dad goes in for the kill.
"So, Alastaire. I hear you have your own personal fan club," my dad says. "That's quite an achievement by the age of seventeen. What are they called again? Cherubs?"
"Angels actually. Alastaire's Angels," Alastaire answers, smiling as easily and confidently as if my dad's asking him about the weather, and not his super dodge harem of groupies. "They're a sweet group of girls, really. Co
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