Soft.

e i g h t e e n

Excuse any mistakes.

Sunday night

Seattle

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              Zeke pulled into the gates of his father's overly large estate.  The icy grey sky restlessly grumbled. The thick blackened clouds were dragged down by the heavy rain which it held in its delicate frame. The clouds which struggled to withstand the burden of the weight which the rain held, soon gave in. The rain poured down over Zeke's Ashton Martin, sports version, with a roar.

Shutting off his engine, Zeke reached into the backseat to grab his coat. The night was cooler than usual on an autumn night. It felt like a winter night instead. He opened his car door, getting out into the downpour and closed it. Zeke then trotted towards his father's front door. Once he made it, he wiped his head and knocked.

             The house was a series of rectangles constructed of steel and glass, unapologetically modern. It stood amidst the manicures lawn as if beamed there rather than constructed. It didn't take long for the door to swing open, revealing the 6'4" figure. Dark, midnight skin tone with extraordinary white teeth, Brennan Ingram was the older version of Zeke. However, Brennan could've passed for late thirties.

"Hey Dad." Zeke greeted blandly as he stepped into the warm home. His dress shoes sounded against the ebonized hardwood floors as his father closed the door. The walls were fashionable shades of white and the floor polished concrete. There was no sentimentality for chintz but on the walls were the most astonishing black and white family photographs that were taken by Zeke himself. There was no clutter of shoes or jackets, no clutter of any kind.

The only organic matter in sight were white orchids on the dark cherry coffee table. The kitchen was large enough for Brennan's army of chefs, there were two ovens and acres of brown flecked concrete countertops on which to prepare food. Upstairs every room was an en-suite with a plasma screen, a king sized bed and a walk in wardrobe.

"Hey son," Brennan greeted back as he lead Zeke to the family room.

Zeke dreaded this meeting with his father because he was sure Brennan had gotten word about the FBI questioning Zeke. He still wasn't sure how the victim had gotten access to one of his accounts. Only he had access to those, but he damn sure didn't kill anyone. Remy seemed to believe him, but he wasn't 100% percent sure.

It was never personal with his father, mostly business. So, when his father calls, it's usually something pertaining to the company. Zeke loved him nonetheless, though. He had taken the role of a father and a mother which was pretty hard to do. Zeke felt like he owed Brennan his life.

As the two men walked into the room, the scent of vanilla and coconut penetrated Zeke's nostrils. He also smelled the aroma of a pastry being made.

Italian Cream Cake, hm?

"Where's Sophie?" Zeke asked, referring to Brennan's longtime girlfriend. Brennan gave him a look before the two sat down across from one another. In all honesty, Brennan was still in love with Senaya, surprisingly. Therefore, he couldn't give his all to Sophie. Rayne adored her maybe because of the lack of motherly figure. Adonis and Zeke didn't have anything against her. But, she was just their father's girlfriend.

The motherly role had longed died in Zeke's eyes. No one could get that close.

"She's at home, where she lives." Brennan answered sarcastically.

"I don't know," Zeke shrugged. "She's here a lot so I think this is home for her, too. You should get over Senaya and let a real woman love you."

Brennan eyebrows lifted in surprise. Here was his son telling him that he needed to allow a real woman love him when he won't allow any woman to love him. A black one, at that. "That's funny coming from you son. I can say the same for you."