mr. badboy

Part 45

"Dad," I say as I enter the store.

He looks up from the register in surprise. I wasn't supposed to come in today. Luckily it's quiet in here.

"What is it?" he asks, frowning at my grave tone.

I guess that's a good sign. I don't see any signs of torches and pitchforks. He obviously doesn't know yet.

"I have something to tell you," I say to him.

"Can it wait?" he asks, gesturing to a few people lingering in the store. They aren't paying us any attention. The usual casual browsers, not sure what they're looking for.

"It can't." I stand on the other side of the counter. I learned something from Amanda this morning. Always keep your distance between yourself and potential injury.

The line between his brows deepens. "Okay...did you get someone pregnant?"

"No," I tell him. "But I'm not sure if this will be worse to you or better."

"Great," he says dryly. "Okay. What is it?"

"Dad, it turns out that I don't really want running this bookstore to be my full-time job."

He stares at me blankly. I'm not sure if he's heard me or not.

I go on. "The thing is, I do have a full-time job and it's one that's making me a lot of money. More than I could have ever dreamed of at this age."

"Are you running a prostitution ring?"

"No," I say warily, trying to read his face. "But sex does sell."

"Blake..."

"Okay, well I love this store and I love you and I want to help, I really do but the only way I can help either of us is if we hire a full-time manager for the store. A financial whiz. Someone who knows what they are doing."

"But you have a business degree," he says gruffly. "You're supposed to use it."

I scoff. "No one uses their degrees anymore. Welcome to the new generation, dad."

"And how do you propose we pay for the manager? With what income?"

He's taking this surprisingly well so far. Maybe he's thought of hiring someone too.

But the other shoe is about to drop.

"I told you," I remind him. "I have money. The money will go toward that and I promise the business will go back into the black."

"Son, if you don't start explaining where the hell this money is coming from..."

"Dad." Here goes nothing and everything. "I've secretly been writing books on the side and self-publishing them. Under a pen name."

"What?"

"They do really well. Really, really well. Amanda is my writing partner and we write them together."

"I don't...," he blinks dumbly.

"Our pen name is Blake Lovecox."

His head jerks back. "That's a terrible name."

"And we write smut."

Now he's speechless. "What?" he growls.

"We write smut," I say with a helpless shrug. "Erotica. We've released two books already and we're working on our third. The reviews are great. The money is better."

He's slowly shaking his head and I can practically see the steam escaping from his ears. "This better be a joke." His voice is practically choking with anger.