Olympus Drive Book 3: According to Plan

Chapter 26

Dean

The sun is just peaking above the trees. It's a nice warm fall day. I have a drink in my hand. All is good with the world. The house is just waking up. I can sit here by the pool, feeling them slowly rise, looking for the drinks, and lap up the energy. Thyme didn't actually kill me like I thought he would. Life is good.

"Congrat-u-fucking-lations you are my biggest problem today!" is all I hear before my chair is tipped into the cold pool, because apparently my father and brother both have the self restraint of a small monkey presented with a Jenga tower.

"Hi—Dad—fancy seeing you here," I say, upon surfacing and rescuing my margarita glass, "How are things---?"

"Get up—get out of the damn pool," my dad says, folding his arms. He looks well rested, and imposing in his long grey velvet coat, a white button up shirt done up correctly because he's actually going to work today, probably only done up correctly because Gerard or possibly Lisa dressed him.

"You tipped me in here—what? I haven't done anything---lately—that you should be aware of—,"

"I accept that you—do what you do. I understand you need your---followers. I recognize that, I am cool with that. Your mother, however, excepts you to hold down a normal job and be sober at least some point in the day," he takes away my already full glass and smashes it against a pillar.

"Really, dad, there are kids here—"

"I don't ask that you give up your----lifestyle," looking around at the remains of the party from the other night, "I ask that you humor your mother and actually hold down the job we helped you get, so that she feels more comfortable with your rapidly deteriorating decision making, got it?"

"Got it done-----I was aware that she wanted me to have another job---,"

"Leading a cult is not a job, Dean."

"Yes—it—is—,"

"Fucking isn't. Your mother and I helped you get a job. You need to do it, you need to maintain a normal lifestyle and blend the fuck in and not have raves every single fucking night," he growls, "You need to get dressed---occasionally, and be sober---occasionally. I don't think I'm asking too much here."

"You're not," I say, sighing very realistically. "I'm sorry. I will go to work at my next assigned duty time space assignment mission thing."

"Do you know what company you work for?" he asks, closing his eyes and tipping his head up towards the building clouds.

"I ah---it's a---American---corporation----wait—no???----Japanese---am I getting warm or cold? Come on give me a hint here."

"Amazon. You work for Amazon you deliver packages a job you can do while slightly intoxicated you would know that if you'd ever actually fucking done it!!" he growls.

"So my first guess was right. American," I say, a little proud of myself, "Okay. Gonna think about that. Definitely. Thanks for the visit, dad----how are the kids?"

"Dean."

"Hmmm?"

"Go inside and get dressed."

"Who---me?" I ask, I'm wearing a bathrobe now dripping and swim trunks, "Why? I had plans—,"

"Lying in the sun drinking all day is not a plan."

"It certainly is!"

"It has come to my attention you do not own proper clothes. I'm driving you to town, we will get you clothes and an alarm clock, pick up your car which you left outside a bar while betwitching followers—"

"I thought I hadn't seen it in a while," I say, nodding, "That would make sense. Yeah."

"So we are going to go, get the very nice, safe car your mother and I helped you get. You are going to actually show up to the job your mother and I helped you get. You can come back here to the house I'm sure you stole from one of your followers—,"

"Not stealing, no if they give me money for the fantastic booze and drugs they get in presence—no that's capitalism—"

"Shut up."

"Okay," I sigh.  I'm not talking my way out of this am I?  I stick my hands in the pockets of my robe.

"Do you even own clothes?"

"I am—wearing clothes—"

"Go get in the fucking car."

"I'm not a child."

"Then quit acting like one," He says, guiding me around the house to the driveway because I was going to deadass walk in the house and lock the door.

"I like my life—"

"Yeah, well, your mother doesn't and that has become both of our problems."

"Oh my god ----quit sleeping with my mother!"

"Absolutely not. Get in the car."

"Aren't there enough people in Winfell---who are not my mom—willing to fuck you?"

"Get in the fucking car," he says, glaring at me.

"I hate you."

"I'm perfectly fine with that, yeah."