If We Ever Meet Again - Ana Huang Page 0,46
Joe looked the same as when he was Blake’s age. The same thick blond hair—thank god Blake didn’t have to worry about balding when he was older—the same blue eyes and square jaw, the same gruff, determined expression.
“So.”
Silence.
“How’s China?” Joe looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.
That made two of them.
“Fine.”
Blake’s response earned him a stern glare. “Try again with a real answer.”
Blake bit back a caustic reply. Instead, he gave his father a quick rundown of the semester. He omitted the details he gave his mom and focused on his classes. He didn’t need his father giving him shit about going out when he should be “getting his life together.”
“What about outside of class? What are you doing?”
“Hanging out.”
Another withering stare. “You’re telling me we paid thousands of dollars for you to fly across the world and hang out?” Joe’s face twisted like the words left a bad taste in his mouth.
Blake gripped his laptop so hard he was surprised it didn’t crack. “There’s the matter of my classes, which I just mentioned,” he said, struggling to remain calm. “Cultural exchange, foreign language learning. You know, small stuff.”
“How useful is that going to be? I didn’t swan off to another country when I was in college and I turned out fine.”
Yeah, if you consider being a bitter old man who lives vicariously through his son “fine.”
“What I want to know is what you’re going to do when you come back.” Joe drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re graduating this year. Did you think about that? Or are you so busy running around Shanghai that you haven’t given a single thought to your future since you threw it away?”
“I did not throw my future away.” Blake’s jaw clenched with a mixture of fear and irritation. “I have—I will have—a business degree.”
“That degree is a formality. When was the last time you did anything business-related?”
“I interned at Z Hotels.”
“Yes, you interned at the company your best friend’s family runs.” Joe snorted. “Laura Zinterhofer won’t give you a management role just because you run around with her son.”
Blake’s jaw clenched harder. “I never said that. I earned that internship. Landon didn’t know I applied until after I got it.”
“Fine. Tell me, what is your grand post-college business plan?” Joe leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
Blake should’ve waited. He was nowhere near ready to tell anyone but Farrah about his plans. With her encouragement, he’d put together a to-do list of everything he needed to make the sports bar a reality. It was…a lot. The estimated cost alone made his eyes swim.
However, the condescending smirk on his father’s face pulled the words out before he could stop them. “I’m opening a sports bar.”
A beat of silence, followed by loud guffaws as Joe burst into laughter. “Get serious.”
“I am serious,” Blake said through gritted teeth.
“You know nothing about running a business. A sports bar? C’mon. There are a million sports bars out there. Take it from someone who’s been around a lot longer than you have, son: stick to what you’re good at. You’re good at football. That’s it.”
Anger ate away at Blake’s stomach. “I’m not going back to football. An NFL career is your dream, not mine.”
“Yeah? You sure as hell didn’t turn down those Heismans. You have talent and prospects other boys your age would kill for, and you’re throwing it all away!” Joe pounded the table. “Do you know how much money you can make in the NFL? Think of the sponsorships. The name recognition. If you’re smart, you can take that to the bank even after you retire.”
“It’s not about the money!” Blake yelled.
“It’s not until you’re jobless and broke!” Joe yelled back. “If you think your mother and I will bankroll your pipe dream, think again!”
“I don’t need you to bankroll me. I’ll do it myself!”
“Ha, I’d like to see that happen.”
“It will happen, and it’ll be no thanks to you.” Blake hung up without another word. Pressing the “end call” button wasn’t as satisfying as slamming down a phone, but it did the trick.
His heart zipped through his chest like a racecar driver intent on winning the Indy 100.
Screw his father. Blake was going to own the most successful fucking sports bar in the world, and when he did, he was going to rub it in Joe Ryan’s face.
In the meantime, he needed to calm down before he punched a hole in the wall. Nothing ruined his day like a conversation with