Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Forty-Two

    "The situation has got to be dire if you're willing to come to your old man for advice." Standing a head shorter than his son, wearing a colorful suit to rival Steve Harvey's most flamboyant threads, Dennis Graham took a puff of the blunt that Drake had handed to him. After a moment of reflection, he released the smoke into the air, passed the blunt back to his son, and rested his arms on top of the deck railing.

    Drake arched an eyebrow at his father. "As if I haven't asked you advice before."

    Dennis's life partner, Ling-Ling, could be heard bustling about behind them, in the kitchen of the modest home. He slanted a gaze over his shoulder, watching the short Asian woman pull out ingredients from the refrigerator and cabinets. "Trivial shit, sure," Dennis said, turning his head to stare out across the field beyond his house. "But this...I don't know. It feels different."

    Drake balanced the blunt between his index and middle fingers. "This is different," he admitted softly before taking another hit.

    "The Sophie shit?"

    Drake shook his head and stared down at the wood planks beneath his feet. "She's out to get me, Dad."

    "Hmm."

    "I mean...I fucked up. A lot of this is on me. I realize that. If I didn't realize it before, I do now. But she's really out to get me. I've been generous, and she's already asking for more money. At every turn. If I want her to keep quiet about our child, she's asking for money. If I want her to keep our child's face out of the press, she's asking for more money. And every time she asks, I ask myself, If I give it to her this time, if I give her what she wants, will she leave me the fuck alone? Will she let me spend time with our child but leave me the fuck alone?"

    "You're hard-headed," Dennis said, his weathered voice rattling against an aged windpipe. "Always have been."

    Drake immediately started to protest, but Dennis held his hand up and cut him off.

    "No, no, son, for real. Okay? I mean...do you want me to be real with you here?"

    After giving a defeated sigh, Drake responded, "Of course."

    "Years ago, when you were starting with this thing, what were my words to you in regards to courting women?"

    Drake's first instinct was to laugh at the word courting, because...only his father. But once that urge passed, he took a moment to truly consider his father's question. "You told me to choose wisely, because of who I was setting out to be."

    "Correct. And do you feel like you've chosen wisely?"

    Drake took another hit from the blunt before passing it to his father.

    "I mean...think about that for a minute. Your own fans catch wind of the women you associate with and they tell you that you need to be more selective. Did you listen to them? Did you take that suggestion seriously?"

    Shaking his head, Drake leaned over the deck railing.

    "You didn't," Dennis answered for him. "You were stubborn, kept going after the same kind of woman. Over and over again. Strippers, and Bad Girl Club women and the like. Don't mind me for saying, but it felt like you wanted to get your ass scammed. The type of woman you were going for on a consistent basis depended on being considered a sex symbol in some way, shape, or form, depending on her face and her body for a paycheck. And I'm not trying to put down the women who do this. Lord knows I've enjoyed my fair share. Lord knows that I can understand the appeal there. And with the way your mind works, no doubt you were attempting to 'save' them, so to speak, from the life they were living. But you had an entire fanbase telling you to upgrade your taste in women. They saw you get your heart broken time and time again, and told you to choose better, and what did you do?"