Although we don’t always see eye to eye, I love him. Glad he’s coming. I’ll get to see, Ma, too. Haven’t seen her in about a month or so. Yeah, this is good…
He placed the gold globe back on its stand, brought his laptop closer, and began to read some online documents. Maybe the silver lining wasn’t just a myth after all…
Dad’s hair was dyed jet black, yet the silver at his temples always grew out faster than the rest. His tresses were high and wavy at the top and tapered on the sides. The sideburns were rather long, accentuating his dark naturally tan skin and angular facial structure. The old man still had a full head of hair and he wore it proudly, along with his Armani Code cologne. This was one of the few things his father would splurge on. He’d always said smelling good for a man was next to godliness. His fashion sense, however, left much to be desired.
He had on a red, white, and blue checkered long sleeve shirt, paired with black pants that were a wee bit too short, and a black belt with a huge buckle shaped like a silver horse trotting away into the night. The guy’s shoes were rather dated, black snakeskin with the toe area slightly turned up like a damn genie’s. Make a fuckin’ wish… Nixon tried to help the guy out the passenger side of the car, but Dad snatched his arm away, grumpy as ever.
“I’m not some invalid! I can get outta the damn car without assistance. Geesh! You treat me like my funeral is tomorrow!”
Nix rolled his eyes and locked his car.
“If you didn’t act like an angry little old lady who eats cat food and yells at the kids playing ball across the street for laughing too much, maybe I wouldn’t treat you like one!”
“You can really be shitty, Nix. You know that? You’re a human butt plug. A toy for a rectum. That’s where ya belong, ya know? Right in the keyster.”
“Look, let me tell ya something, Dad. When we get in here,” he gestured toward the front door, “I don’t want to hear any of your crap, all right? You’ve been bitchin’ since I picked you up from the hotel. It’s aggravating. Ya been here only a few hours and already you’re doing shit to work my nerves. I’ve been nothing but nice, and you have nothin’ but complaints. Act like a decent human being for a change. I don’t wanna hear any of your nonsense.”
“You’ll hear whatever it is I have to say, jackass!” Dad barked, his salt and pepper brows furrowed.
It was then that Nixon noticed bits of tissue peppering his five o’ clock shadow.
“Ya got shit all over your face. What the hell were you doing in that bathroom? Makin’ out with a paper towel?!” He grabbed his father and made quick work of cleaning him off.
“Wiping my ass with memories of you. That’s what I was doing. You know what? It’s nice looking, Nix, but that hotel stinks! And I need a fucking cigarette,” the old man growled as they made their way towards the restaurant entrance.
“I’m sure I’ll regret asking, but what’s wrong with it? You are in the Talbott for God’s sake. You seemed happy when I picked you up in the lobby.”
“The gal at the front, ya know, the one that looks like a drunk golden retriever, got smart with me, as soon as I checked in. She was talking to me like I was a hundred years old and had no will to live! Kinda like you did a second ago!” Dad jammed his hand in his pocket and lit a cigarette. “I get to the room, and there’s no fucking soap!”
“Dad, there was soap. It’s in those pumps.”
“How would you know? Ahhhh, geez! Never mind! Is there any place at all in this town where you haven’t screwed some broad?!” Nix couldn’t help but smile. He was rather proud of that achievement. He’d toured most of Chicago and had had a roll in the hay almost anywhere he could.
“I haven’t had sex on Wrigley Field. Yet.”
The old man rolled his eyes. “Anyway, all I wanted was a regular bar of fuckin’ soap, Nix. Is that too much to ask?! All that frou-frou stuff they have now, I have no idea what it was… something called mango vanilla cream daffodil shiny seashell on the shore with a splash of root beer float, ray, a drop