Showmanship

14 - 1.5 Million Bazingas, Meet Your Maker, and Washing Water

1.5 Million Bazingas

"Christ Gillian, did you gain any weight over in America."

Mr. Waltz plopped down on his leather chair, making it very obvious that he had gained weight in America. That's all fine with me, of course. I couldn't care less what he did with himself, but when you bring up me-

He held up the playdough firmly in his hand. "Do you remember this?

Sadly. I thought to myself.

"Little bits," I answered, which was a half truth. I repressed quit a bit of that time in my life.

     "The pinnacle of my law career," He smiled, shaking your head. "Your dad had a lot of money."

    I glanced up at the poster on the wall. "Last time I checked he still does."

    "Oh yes, he does. 1.7 million dollars to be exact," Mr. Waltz said.

    I heard Dorothy gasp "-oh my god-"

   "Wow," I let out, staring at the ground. "That's a little bit more than I remember."

    "A little bit more!" Dorothy couldn't contain herself any longer. "Holy shit! Is you're dad a drug lord or something?!"

    "He's a director, actually, and he inherited quiet a lot from his father before him," Mr. Waltz stated, and he grabbed a folder out from his desk drawer.

  My dad's family had collected money over the years and the only person that ever did any good with it was my grandpa Rocket. He was a humanitarian, and the only reason my dad got that money was because my Grandpa got dementia when he was forty.

    The folder opened in front of me. It was my father's will, his name written right by my old. There was so much text my vision was getting blurry. There was one thing I noticed.

    "That's not my name," I pointed to the will. "It needs to be fixed to be legally binding."

    "Okay, well-"

   "Also he never had legal custody after 2010 so that whole paragraph about care and respect is bullshit."

   "You'll just have to deal with that bit son, I'm sorry-"

    "How much would I be getting?" I asked. Dorothy squinted at me. I wasn't sure she thought I would got through it.

   Here we were.

   "Well," Mr. Waltz cleared his throat and took out his pen. He circled a section with the back of it so no marks were left. "Your father's plan was to take enough out that he could live comfortably, which I estimated at most would be 3 million and the rest would go to you, which is-"

   Dorothy slammed back against her chair, inhaling sharply. "1.5 million bazingas."

    We all tried to process something different. I was mostly thinking about how my estranged father had just offered me 1.5 million dollars out of nowhere. Why would he reward me? I was the one who questioned him. I was the one who belittled him. Rightfully, mind you. So what, he wanted something to with me. I wanted nothing to do with him.

   Then again, he didn't deserve any of that money. Anything he earned that wasn't inherited was because of me. It should have been mine. Mr. Waltz even thought so, and my father has that man wrapped around his finger.

    Mr. Waltz slammed his hands on the table and let out a hearty laugh. His voice shook the desk. "Hell! Bazingas is right!" He continued to choke his words through his laughter. "I've never heard that one! Are you from Minnesota?"