My Dad’s Friend Novels & Stories

"Oh, what a shame. But don't worry, darling. I'll make sure the company is well taken care of when you inevitably screw up." "Shut up, Victoria," I snapped, my hands shaking against the table. I turned back to the lawyer. "Who is it? Who did my dad pick? Let me guess, one of his old, retired golf buddies who I can easily pay off?" Robert shook his head slowly. "No. Your father chose someone who cannot be bought. Someone who already holds a massive stake in the market and has the power to manage Beaumont Enterprises if you fail." "Just give me a name, Robert."

The kind we had fought to earn the right to care about. Through the open door I watched Kael work the sticky pump with the same focus he gave war maps. The bond sat quiet and deep between us, no alarm, no court performance, only the low awareness of him existing in my father’s yard without either of them bleeding for it. “He’s still the man who took you from this house,” Father said behind me, voice low. “He’s also the man who stands beside me in the one I built.” I did not turn. “I don’t need you to love that. I need you to keep writing about fences.”

"Drink. You're going to need it before the speeches start." "Speaking of," I said, taking a small, necessary sip of the chilled champagne, "where's your dad?" "Over by the endowment board," Sofia said, gesturing subtly with her chin toward the far side of the hall near the marble pillars. "Corporate donors, city council members, the usual crowd. He's been doing press photos for the last hour." My eyes followed her gesture before I could stop myself.

Alert and tense. “How are you holding up?” I asked. His fingers tightened around the glass. “I’m okay.” I waited. He glanced at me again. Then looked down. “I think.” I tipped my head slightly. “You don’t have to be okay here.” He didn’t respond. I rested my forearms on my thighs and leaned forward just a little. “Your father was my friend.” The word looked like it shocked him. Friend. He blinked. “My dad didn’t talk about people much,” he said quietly. “Not names. He said it was safer that way.”

Best friend indeed. “If he is indeed my father's best friend, how come I never met him? Why wasn't he present at the funeral yesterday?” Why did we have to meet in a club if they were truly best friends? I wanted to add. He cleared his throat and shifted on his chair. “Your father and I fell out some years ago due to some business issue, but then I realized that he wasn't at fault. I tried to reach him but my attempts were unsuccessful until last night when your mom reached out to me. I'm still pissed that she didn't call me when he was ill. I'd have done everything within my power to help him stay alive,”

“Welcome home.” The formality was deliberate. A wall between us. “Dom’s been keeping me company in your absence,” my father said, oblivious to the tension crackling between hid righthand man and his daughter. “Don’t know what I would’ve done without him these past couple years. Best friend a man could ask for.” The words landed like a physical blow. Best friend. As if I needed the reminder of exactly how wrong this was. “That’s wonderful,” I managed. “I’m glad you have each other.”

Scott were. “Dad, I'd like you to meet Ashton, my friend. Ashton, meet my Dad. “I see… Your friend?” My dad asked, emphasizing the “friend”. I almost laughed at his expression. Did he think I’d remain single forever? Why was he so surprised and uncomfortable because I introduced a male friend? “Nice to meet you Mr. Garcia.” Ashton said, extending his hand for a handshake. “Likewise.” My dad said, his voice sounded forced.

waving hi on my way out to meet friends. But I’m 23 now. And last summer, something that routine took a different turn. It started with Mark, I had a huge crush on him. Dad’s best friend since college. Tall, deep voice, always teasing me a little too long when he hugged hello. One night after a game, when everyone else had left, he stayed to “help clean up.” Dad passed out on the couch after several bottles of drinks.

he replied. "Dad, what would you have done if one of your friends had dated me?" I asked as I looked over at him. I was nervous about his answer. "Well, that is quite a question. I am close to Tristan. I can only think of him if he had to date you...." he shook his head, blowing out a breath. "I guess I would kill him with my bare hands....I don't know. But I surely wouldn't allow my friends to take advantage of my daughter and get away with it. I don't know...but as long as it's not happening I'm happy," he looked at me with a smile. "There isn't anything there now, is there?" he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“She’s humble too. Alex, tell her about your dad’s investment thing.” He shrugged. “It's boring. My dad runs a small private equity firm. I’m just trying to graduate without him forcing me into it.” He tilted his head. “Mirabel said you’re an orphan? That’s rough. Sorry, that came out blunt. I’m not good at this.” “It’s fine,” I said with a sigh. “It was a long time ago.” “Still.” His expression softened. “If you ever want to talk about it, or not talk about it, I’m around. We can be friends. Mirabel says you’re the strongest person she knows.”