My Dads Friends Novels & Stories

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.

I wasn’t supposed to be home this summer. College had been my escape—my excuse to avoid the suffocating expectations of being Aria Hale, perfect daughter of perfect businessman Victor Hale. But when Dad insisted I come home for his “important dinner,” I didn’t expect him to walk through the door. Jace Carter. My dad’s friend’s son. The boy who used to steal cookies off our counter and dare me to jump from the treehouse roof. The boy who moved away at seventeen and left behind a trail of rumors—fights, girls, a motorcycle accident that nearly killed him.

Tonight, I was just someone trying to drown the sound of my lesbian girlfriend walking away. With one last shred of hope, I dialed again, thumb hovering over the screen like it might burn me. It rang twice. Then clicked. “Hey,” a deep, familiar voice answered. “I don’t know why you keep calling or who the hell you are, but she’s not available right now. Bye.” The line went dead. I froze, phone still pressed to my ear, heart slamming against my ribs. That voice. I’d know it anywhere. My father. Duncan Blackwood.

Kept in safety. Held in the quiet dark of a house that is finally, fully home. As sleep begins to pull me under, still wrapped in their arms, I know with absolute certainty that we will keep it… with my two bullies who have now become my greatest supporters.

I say quietly. Dad snorts. “Being back here… it reminds me of the old days. Makes me realize I can let go of some things.” Mom jumps in, eyes sparkling. “Your father ran into an old friend—Mr. Philip! Can you believe it?” “Really?” I’m surprised.

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.

What Blake knew was that the portrait was a reckless purchase… not the truth. That I was the filthy artist. And that faceless man was no stranger. He is Dominic Mercer. My dad’s best friend. A man twice my age. He was practically my dad’s partner in crime, until he disappeared. My head involuntarily bobs to the loud banging music in the club. The neon-blue light swings back and forth as if finding the best talent, and settles on sexy strippers in pairs of daring lingerie. One of them dives for the pole and like a fluid, twists around it with her head hanging down.

“My son, I don't think I need to introduce him, he's always on the news.” Dad let out a soft sigh “Yeah, I know him.” Those were no good comments of the sort; I was sure Alex was waiting to hear something like that. When he didn't get a word from dad, Alex broke into a smile “Do you know that they are friends? Very good ones, I believe.” Dad drummed his fingers on my back. Shit, what was Alex doing? He'd get me in trouble. “They aren't friends.” Dad replied in a cold tone.

John asked and Prisca shifted closer to him with curiosity. "I've been wondering my husband but I didn't want to rush you into telling me," she admitted. "Okay," John began taking a deep breath. "Thirty five years ago my father and your father were very good friends. I mean they were like brothers more than just friends." "They shared ideas together attended functions together and went hunting together," he continued. "One fateful morning your father invited my father out for hunting and my father never returned."