this unwelcome pleasure?”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Alex was beginning to hope his father hadn’t meant to call and was going to try and get out of talking to his son by pretending to drive through a tunnel. Alex would have played along with that one no questions asked.
“Alexander.” His father’s curt tone greeted him eventually. “How have you been?”
“Splendid.” Alex pulled out a shirt from his suitcase. A purple number that made his green eyes pop, it was also just the right mix of casual and polite that it would suit in a number of different scenarios, whatever Noah and he ended up doing. The thing was wrinkled to all hell, of course, seeing as Alex hadn’t worn the shirt in forever and hadn’t bothered to unpack the suitcase either.
“Hey, since you’re already conveniently on the line, how about bestowing some fatherly wisdom on me?”
If Alex had thought the previous pause had been lengthy, he was in for a surprise. His father was quiet for so long that Alex stopped throwing clothes out of his suitcase. All wrinkled. He really should have unpacked the thing when he arrived.
“Yes?” His father sounded cautious as hell, but Alex went ahead anyway. Who knew, maybe the old man could surprise him?
“How do you unwrinkle a shirt without an iron?”
“Huh?”
“I have this shirt I want to wear, but it was in my suitcase, so it looks more like a modern work of art than a shirt.”
“Is this some sort of a prank of yours? Are you mocking me?”
“Yes.” Alex rolled his eyes, even though his father couldn’t see him. “It’s an elaborate setup to make you look stupid. There are cameras everywhere, and you’re being broadcast live, as we speak, to every billboard on Times Square, so choose your answer carefully.”
“With you, nothing surprises me.”
“That’s a nice, if completely unhelpful, sentiment.”
His father sighed. “Steam it while you shower.”
“I’m in a bunkhouse. The bathroom is huge. I don’t think I’ll get enough steam unless I turn all the showers on, and even then, there’s really nowhere to hang the shirt there.”
“Then you have to think outside the box.”
“Don’t you think I would have already done it if I had the time to start brainstorming ideas?”
“Take a metal pot and heat some water in it and then use the base of the pot as a replacement iron,” his father suggested.
“That’s… strangely helpful. Thanks.” Alex moved to the kitchen of the bunkhouse and started following his father’s instructions. “Is there a reason why you’re calling?” he asked to pass the time as he waited for the water to boil.
“I haven’t heard from you, so I thought it would be good to check in.”
“To check that I haven’t burned the whole place down yet?”
Alex’s father huffed in irritation. “Can’t I just be interested in your well-being without there being some sinister, hidden purpose to my question?”
“You could, but I’ve been here for over a month already, and this is the first time I’m hearing from you.”
“I’ve been in Japan for the last three weeks. Between the meetings and the time difference, there just wasn’t a good opportunity to call.”
“Well, I hope you had fun on your little vacation while I was slaving away here.”
“You of all people should know, Alexander, that my business trips are not about fun. Very little about my job is fun.”
“No wonder you want me to take over, then. You should work on your slogan, though. I don’t do not fun.”
Alex could picture his father rubbing his temples like Alex was standing right next to the man and not in a bunkhouse twenty-three hundred miles away.
“How are things in Oregon?” his father asked in a strained voice.
“It’s a nonstop party. I mean, it wasn’t before I arrived, but you know me, I can liven up any place in the world.”
“You certainly have a talent of bringing chaos wherever you go.”
“I prefer to think of it as brightening somebody’s day.”
“And you say you’re no good at public relations. That’s exactly the kind of thing we do—use our words to show people that the coin always has another side. Something that is better, and people just lack the perspective to notice it.”
“Is that a diplomatic way to say that a pile of shit can be served as a future rose garden?”
Another dramatic sigh. “That’s the gist of it, yes.”
“I’ll still pass.”
“What a shock to the system,” his father deadpanned. “Still, might I suggest you put on a pair