Mingyu
As I drive home, my unease from my encounter with Seungkwan builds into a full-blown panic over my dad’s request to speak with me. It’s been years since he told me to be home, not since he gave up on grooming me as his right-hand man.
I swing by Caffeine Run, our local coffee shop drive-thru, to delay the inevitable. Instead of my usual black americano, I order the most sugar-laden, caffeine-packed drink on the menu. I drive home slowly, diligently observing all the speed limits while sipping on my drink and trying to calm the nerves fluttering in my stomach. In hindsight, the caffeine may have been a mistake...
By the time I pull into the underground parking at my dad’s city home, only the remnants of whipped cream swill at the bottom of my cup. Reluctantly, I step out of my car and make my way up the back stairs.
Pausing at the entrance to the kitchen, I take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever awaits me on the other side.
When I push the door open, I’m surprised to see Nick cleaning behind the ginormous coffee machine. He’s usually running around like a headless chicken at this time of day, trying to get dinner ready.
“Hey Nick, you okay?” We’ve never been close, but I’m trying to make an effort. The poor guy spends his entire life eagerly catering to my dad’s every impossible demand. The trouble is that his loyalty is entirely one-sided. My dad would probably fire Nick over something as trivial as a mismatched sock. God knows how he’s lasted here for over a decade.
"Master Mingyu, I hope you had a good day at school?”
“Yeh, it was alright,” my mind replays seungkwan’s delicious submission, and I can’t help the smug smile that takes over my face. “Last day of term, so football practice ran on a bit.”
I sling my bag onto the polished countertop, far away from the gleaming machine that Nick is currently working on. See, I’m considerate. “I’m so ready for a couple of weeks doing nothing.”
He makes a non-committal sound. Now that is unusual. Normally Nick would start up a lecture series about spending my time productively, working on my Windsly University application and getting ahead in revision for next term. Or even, god forbid, shadowing my dad at work.
“What’s up, Nick?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “No speech on how to be a better person today?”
Nick barely looks up from behind the coffee machine. “Your Father is waiting for you in his office. Be quick about it. He’s heading to a gala in a couple of hours.”
Ah, so that explains why Nick isn’t preparing the usual feast. But, of course, he still has me covered. “I’m heating some lasagna up for you. It’ll be ready with a salad at six.”
“Cheers, Nick. Catch you later.” I shoot a smile at the beta and trudge towards my dad’s office.
I make my way up the stairs with all the speed of a sloth, my feet dragging on the marble floor. Finally, I reach the imposing door and knock, waiting to be summoned by my father. He’s totally into displays of power. He once left me waiting for twenty minutes before letting me in. Is it arrogance on his part that he knew I’d still be there, or stupidity on mine for waiting? I can’t decide.
Today, he calls out in less than thirty seconds. Shit, I’m either in a lot of trouble or… Actually, there is no alternative. I try to remember anything I’ve done recently that would incur my dad’s wrath, but I’m coming up blank.
As I step inside, I see my father leaning on his desk, nursing a scotch. A smile plays on his lips as he swirls the amber liquid. I can’t tell if this is a trap, but my instincts tell me to be on high alert. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I know that whatever he has to say, I won’t like it.
