Perfectly Imperfect 1

23- Hey, Dad

CAL:

Beep, beep, beep!

The persistent vibrating of my phone pulls me out of my sweet dream. I sit up groggily, trying to figure out where I left my phone.

I finally find it in the closet...yeah, god knows what I was thinking last night.

I slide my phone to accept the call.

“Morning Caleb!” my dad’s cheery voice greets.

“My name isn’t Caleb,” I inform him coldly, sitting down on the couch in the adjoining living room. “Is Caleb one of your mistresses sons? Sorry dad, I just happen to be your actual, biological son.”

“My, my, someone’s a little grouchy this morning. I suppose the Carlton’s lost its touch, has it?” he enquires slyly.

“Good work dad, at least you know where I am. Why are you calling? Did some big business deal come up? Do you need your ‘perfect’ family to seal the deal for you? Shall I bring out the Armani suit or the Burberry one?” I ask sarcastically.

“Boy, remind me, we really ought to do something about your built up rage and sarcasm,” he teases easily. “I’m in town. Flew in last night actually. You can imagine my shock when I got home to find my son missing. Naturally Stacy had no idea where you were...” he trails off, sounding a little uneasy.

“Thank god you didn’t marry Stacy for her brains, huh?” I spit bitterly.

“Cal...Stacy’s the only mother you know!” he reprimands seriously.

“No dad...I don’t have a mum. My biological one abandoned me before I could even walk. And my step-mum tries her best to put me down, insult me in front of everyone and ruin everything good in my life. So yeah, I don’t have a mum,” I quip.

“Son...I understand-”

“No! No you don’t understand anything dad! But let’s drop it, we both know this isn’t the reason you called me. If you truly wanted to know whether I was okay, you would have sent me a text. You only call when it’s in your interest to do so. So let’s hear it,” I instruct calmly.

I hear my father sigh on the other line. “I’m having some friends over for dinner...” he admits. “I need to nail this job Cal.”

“Let me guess, you need me there because this friend of yours has a daughter, right? Probably short, fat and ugly? Never had a guy give her attention? So you figure that if I’m there and give her the time of day, she’ll pressure her dad into doing it?” I demand. “Been there, done that dad...it’s getting old.”

“Look, I just need you to show up. Please?” he pleads.

“Fine. I’ll be there,” I mutter frustratedly.

“Good. I’ll see you at home at seven then,” my dad murmurs, disconnecting the call.