My dad had issues with rich men, thanks to my mom.
"You'll see how it is when you meet him."
"All right."
Skepticism colored his voice.
"Really, Dad."
I couldn't begrudge him his concern, since it'd been my self-destructive run with not-so-good- for-me guys that had led him to finding Dr.
Travis.
He'd especially had trouble with a lead singer for whom I'd been little more than a groupie and a tattoo artist whom my dad had pulled over to find him getting a blowjob while driving - and not from me.
"Gideon's good for me.
He gets me."
"I'll keep an open mind, okay? And I'll e-mail you a copy of my itinerary when I book the flight.
How's everything else going?" "We just started working on a campaign for blueberry-flavored coffee."
Another pause.
"You're kidding."
I laughed.
"If only.
Wish us luck trying to sell that! I'll be sure to stock some up for you to try."
"I thought you loved me."
"With all my heart.
How's your love life going? Did your date go well?" "Yeah .
it wasn't bad."
Snorting, I asked, "Are you going to see her again?" "That's the plan so far."
"You're a font of information, Dad."
He chuckled again and I heard his favorite chair creak as he shifted.
"You don't really want to know about your old man's love life."
"True."
Although I did sometimes wonder what his relationship had been like with my mom.
He'd been the Latino boy from the wrong side of the tracks and she'd been the golden debutante with dollar signs in her blue eyes.
I figured it must've been pretty hot between them.
We talked for a few more minutes, both of us excited to see each other again.