Chapter 13 –"My Father & I"

Perfect - Alanis Morissette

"So you're going to actually tell them?"

I shifted uncomfortably on my bed. Just thinking about it made me horribly uneasy, "Yeah."

"When?" Karla asked from the other side of the line, no doubt sitting Indian styled on her Queen sized mattress as well.

"Prom."

I could feel her shiver from the other line, "Can't you wait until after Prom? You don't know how they'll take the news."

I sighed, "I know, but I talked to Kai yesterday and he said that it would be best to do it before going to Prom since they don't want to ruin any pictures."

She chuckled, "I see." There was a momentary pause, "Where is Kai?

"Back in college...for the time being anyways. The kid s so unpredictable it's hard to tell what he's going to do next."

"Trust me," she huffed, "I know. Justin can't seem to decide on either doing rocket science for NASA or fry-cooking for Denny's."

I snickered, "So, I guess we're the only level headed children in our bizarre families."

"Agreed." There was a yell on the other line and she groaned, "Speaking of the bizarre ones; Mom's calling me."

I laughed again, "Be strong and call me if you make it out alive."

"Don't count it." She grumbled before the line went dead. I shook my head, and ended the call. I sighed and looked around my room.

It was a Saturday, sunny at that and there was seriously nothing to do. Ethan was studying hard for the Biology exam he was set to have on Monday and because (as usual) he didn't listen to me and studied a week in advance, he had a little over six chapters to properly study for; so, all in all, he was basically screwed and destined to fail.

As much as I liked being right and shoving it in his face with these things, I was a little upset over it. Everyone was busy and I was all alone for the day.

As soon as I fell backwards onto my bed, deciding to just stay curled up in my sheets all day, there was a loud knock at the door quickly followed by dad's voice."Spencer?"

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, "Yes, Sir?"

There was an abrupt moment of silence. He probably sensed the trace of spite in my respectful response, "Are you decent?" he asked, "Can I come in?"

"I am." The door opened and in he walked. My eyes flew to him and more so his odd choice in attire. The blue overalls was less than flattering and the tall black boots and round hat that hid a quarter of his face didn't exactly help. I snorted, almost laughing, "You reek of fish."

He rolled his eyes and entered the room fully, shutting the door behind him, "Funny. I'm going fishing." He said, sitting at the edge of my bed.

I groaned immediately, "Why do I feel as though I'm involved in this somehow."

"You are coming with me."

"As much as I like the fresh smell of sea water in the morning and the warm feeling I get when crushed bait guts are in my hand, I think I'm going to pass on this one."

"God, you are facetious."

I smiled and sat up next to him, "What did you expect?"

He shrugged slightly and thought for a second, "You," he looked over, "saying yes dad, I'd love to go with you fishing."

I blinked at him before chuckling, "You obviously don't know your son then."

"Hence the fishing trip and I'm not going lay off of you until you agree to go."

I huffed and just as I was about to give up and nod a reluctant yes, something hit me, "Why are you doing this?"

He looked genuinely confused but I didn't buy the innocent look for a second, "What do you mean?"

"Who is coming with us?" he must have wanted me to flaunt my charming smile for someone. "Which investor and whose daughter do you want me to butter up?"

He stared in awe, dumb-founded for a minute before a laugh that sounded more or less like a snort had escaped him, "You really think I'd do that."

"Dad, please." I barked, rolling my eyes. "Do I really need to remind you of the 'Piper thing'?" It wasn't the only time my charm and white smile had been exploited by my Dad to further his career and the fact he was acting as if he has never done anything of the sort wasn't as much hurtful as it was pathetic.

"If I've done anything to hurt you in the past, I'm sorry."

I laughed, "Okay. All is forgiven."

"I sense sarcasm."

"Then you should get a job as a psychic." I responded, standing up and slowly walking to my door. "I have a lot of work to get done today and would like to be left alone for the remainder of it."

"Spe-"

"Please." I blurted, cutting him off. Looking defeated, he sighed and rose to his feet.

He trotted over but stopped half way out of the door, "If you change your mind, I leave at eleven."

"Noted." I mumbled, closing the door and locking it once he left.

Time flew by and as I requested, Dad hadn't come back to my room, mom didn't call me down for food of any kind and I was bored. Really bored. 'Would one fishing trip kill me?' I thought. With dad, possibly judging my every step, watching every breath, it was possible.

I sat up, removed the book from my face and threw it to the side. My eyes roamed to the square shaped, black clock that sat high atop my television screen. 10:46 a.m. I sighed, wondering what exactly what I was thinking. Was I seriously about to get up and actually go fishing with my dad?

"I'm such an idiot." I murmured. I guess I was. I got up and ran downstairs, nearly tripping over myself.

My feet guided me to the living room where Mom was up to her usual weekend rituals that included dusting off every square inch of every room. Thankfully, I didn't inherit that gene. "Mom, have you seen dad?"

She didn't look up but she nodded, "He's outside loading up his truck for the trip that you so rudely rejected to go on."

I gagged, "Oh, please mother. You act as if this isn't some kind of business fishing trip to impress some executive."

She spun around and I nearly tripped over the rug when I saw her face. Her eyes were puffy, her lips were actually pink and her face was void of any makeup. "This trip is important to him, Spencer." She growled.

I took a step back, "Okay Mother of Frankenstein, calm down and explain to me what's going on and why you look like someone ransacked your makeup collection." I gasped mockingly, "OMG, are we broke?"

"Ha-Ha." She laughed dryly, "Very funny, Spencer." She barked and returned to her sweeping. "Now, if you are done crushing dreams can you please return your room?"

"Actually, I'm going on the trip." Her hands noticeably slowed down perhaps due to the shock that I actually caved in and decided to go.

"Then you better hurry and catch your father, he is leaving in a bit."

I nodded nonchalantly and ventured outside where Dad and is old beat down Ford 150 sat in front of our yard.

The fading red color, dirt that wrapped itself around the tires and bottom edges, the broken antenna that sat atop the dented roof were all but a few of its appealing physical qualities. Why Dad has kept it all of these years was above and beyond my comprehension. He claimed "Sentimental value" but never have I known my dad to be the "sentimental" type. He has lost his wedding ring three times so far. This year.

I approached him and leaned against the gate, watching as he carefully placed the necessities one needed during a weekend fishing trip. I silently grabbed one of the bags and pushed it over into the back of the truck. His eyes fell on me with a glint of shock playing in them but he kept silent until everything was packed in.

"It's not going to be boring, I promise." He muttered from the opposite side – the side that lead out into the road and offered what was supposedly a sincere smile, happy that I chose to go with him.

I only scoffed at his warmest. I wasn't a fool. There was an ulterior motive to my Dad's actions and I could feel it. His smile dropped and it was his turned to roll his eyes, muttering something incoherently about driving over my feet before tugging at the door's handle and got into the driver's seat.

I followed suit, but I more lightly – apathetically if anything – opened the door and sat in, buckling my seatbelt and remaining silent for the majority of the ride to the Eastern side of town.

Unlike the Biker South, The Upper East Side was where most of the most affluent lived. Dad had once decided to move there but grandma insisted we stay closer to her and her dislike for tea parties and chatty-stay-at-home-fully-loaded-jeep-driving-blonde-haired- housewives/stay at home moms/ she-wolves was stronger than the scent of whisky on her breath at ten in the morning.

It was any one's guess how she raised my dad. He only obliged when her health started to deteriorate and he found it hard to move ever since.

It took us a while but after three rest stops, an entire soul album by Sam Cooke and a handful of scoffs, eye rolls, grunts and huffs, we finally made it to the home stretch leading to the Town's social club The Green Cabin that came equipped with golf courses, hotels rooms, tennis, basketball and ping pong (yes ping pong) courts and a lake that led out into the harbor that was more than adequate for fishing. Interestingly enough, none of the cabins/ hotel rooms were green. Dad noted that they called it that because of the green, healthy grass.

But as dad approached the parking lot, I noticed that the car wasn't exactly slowing down. "Dad, unless you plan to crash through the fence, the speed at which you are going isn't exactly ideal." I quipped only half-sarcastic.

"We're not going to the The Green Cabin." He commented, keeping his gaze on the road ahead.

He wasn't bluffing either. He drove straight pass the entrance to the mega resort and kept on driving. I furrowed my eyebrows, "If we aren't going to the club then where the hell are we supposed to fish?" I was already regretting the trip and seriously started contemplating jumping out of the car.

"Lake Mary."

I snorted, "Lake Mary is an public resort for anyone to go fishing...with rotting wooden cabins, mysteriously stained sheets, poisonous spiders and a creepy manager named Paul who looks more like a Tom who smells like rotting government cheese and loneliness." I breathed, "I'm scaring myself."

He took his eyes off the road for a quick second to meet my eyes. He looked amused, a little too happy and they trailed back to the road, "We're going to have an authentic Father-Son fishing trip."

I blinked. He wasn't going to the fancy club, he didn't once look at his cell phone and it never once rang since we departed two hours ago and he still had yet to insult my choice in attire or the way I sat in the seat. "Dad?" I mumbled, staring up at him with a mixture of worry and slight panic.

He frowned at the sound if it and offered a quick glance in my direction. "Is there something wrong, Spence."

I forgot what I was going to say. "You called me Spence."

He shrugged and snorted but it came out sounding more like a laugh than anything, "Is there something wrong with that?"

"You never call me Spence. None of your assistants has called, Mom looked a mess... Are – are you dying?"

"No. I just want to spend some time with you is all." he murmured.

I wasn't buying it, "Is it cancer?"

"Nothing is wrong with me." He said more sternly but it didn't do anything to ease my worry. It did, however, silence me.

I inhaled steadily, exhaled shakily and turned to look out my window. My Dad may not have been perfect but he was better than no dad at all and, if I lost him I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

There was a chuckle through the strangling silence, "Spencer Liam Haynes." He called out, gaining my attention. He kept his eyes on the road but offered me a smile, "I am fine. I think I like you better when you are making witty remarks instead of when you show genuine concern. It's kind of alien to me."

I sighed, "So, you're not dying?"

"No."

All worry left and the anger before seeped back in, "Then why the hell are we on this damn trip?" I spat, spinning around with my hand folded and slumping into the dirty car seat.

He grumbled, "Are you not listening to anything I've been saying?"

"Sorry if I don't buy for a minute that you are seriously thinking of hanging out with me for the sake of hanging out with your son. Who told you I liked to fish anyway? Maybe I'm a vegan."

He rolled his eyes, "You aren't a vegan, Spencer."

"How would you know?" I barked back.

"Well for one, I've seen you go through a plate of fried chicken faster than anyone." He retorted, "And quite frankly, you don't have it in you to keep up with something."

I turned to stare at him. He was wearing a smirk now and chuckling softly, "I can keep up with anything."

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Soccer in eighth grade."

I scoffed, "The ball was coming right at me. What I suppose to do, kick it?"

"That's the whole point of the game."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever."

He smirked again, "What about Tap Dancing in ninth grade?"

"I decided that twerking was where it was at."

"Hipster in tenth."

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes, "Like you enjoyed that phase. Even I hated myself."

"Girls in eleventh."

"Please Da-" I stopped.

Did...he...just.

"W-what are you talking about?" I added a laugh. A nervous Oh-My-God-who-told-you-that-you-werent-supposed-to-know-one. "I'm dating Karla."

"Don't insult my intelligence Spencer." He mumbled, "You and Ethan have been playing Hanky-Panky for about a month, if not longer."

I stared him down, mouth open and eyes large. It grew silent. Externally, at least.

On the inside, my body had kicked into high gear. My stomach was churning, my muscles started to ache, my hands trembled uncontrollably and my mind was racing with thoughts of how he was going to react. Was he driving me out here to throw me out of the car and abandon me?

Not another word left either of our lips for the remaining half hour. We arrived at the Cabins and we silently trudged to our quarters with me a few paces behind him. Once we arrived, dad knocked instead of taking out his keys to open it. I would have thrown him some smart remark but in all honestly, I was too frightened to.

The sound of a door unlocking and hinges unlatching soon sounded and the door creaked open with a familiar face appearing on the other end. "George!" Mr. Littman greeted/yelled, engulfing my dad into a manly hug. So I was slightly correct. Dad did have ulterior motives and did invite others. Inviting Mr. Littman, however, came as a completely confusion shock. What was he planning?

Dad responded with a loud cackle and returned the pat on the back. They parted and Mr. Littman kept the big smile on his face, "You guys got here quickly," his eyes raced to me, "How are you feeling Spencer?" he snickered, "Ready to catch some big fishes?"

"Fish." I mumbled, swallowing.

Mr. Littman's amused eyes glazed with confusion, "Fish?" he cackled, "One fish is hardly going to fill the bellies of men like us, Spencer."

I swallowed, darting my eyes between a Mr. L and Dad, whose expression was blank. I sighed, "Never mind." I whispered and stepped into to cabin. The scent of sweaty armpits hit my nose almost as hard as being punched in the face. I covered it and dry heaved, "Good God." I mumbled to myself, "Who smells like dying cats?"

"That would be me ba-beh."

I rolled my eyes and looked towards the hall as a boxer-clad Ethan with tousled hair and a crooked smile slowly made his way up to the front. "I'm not surprised." I noted, keeping an open palm securely over my mouth and nose.

The taller boy only offered me the most genuine of smiles and approached, opening his arms to greet me how we normally did and I was all but willing to accept his hands around my waist coupled with the rotuine soft kiss to lips but then I remembered who had been in our presence.

I side stepped him immediately and he nearly tumbled over from my sudden, swift action. He caught himself and turned around with confusion and anger playing his in stare, "What the hell Spence?"

I clenched my jaw and nudged to the left where both our fathers looked on. One with an amused look and the other with a blank one. Guessing which one wasn't exactly rocket science.

"Ethan," Dad spoke, "help Spencer with our bags, would you?"

Startled a bit and looking slightly uncomfortable under the stare of my dad, he obliged silently; running back to his room and throwing on clothes – most of which that were put on backwards.

Once we were far enough from our cabin, he took a chance and intertwines our fingers. "...Dude." I jumped at his voice. He frowned and we slowed down until we came to a complete stop. "Is something wrong? I've been telling you about the new season of Supernatural for the past five minutes and all you do is stare at the ground."

I swallowed, avoiding looking directly in his eyes, "I'm..." I sighed, "Fine." I cursed myself for the lack of believability.

Ethan's hand slid to my cheek and he forced me to look at him. Quickly, I let the worry slide of my face and gave him a stoic look which probably gave me away more than the worried one could. "Did something go down with your parents?" he questioned and with his eyes locked into mine; I found it hard to lie.

"They know." I muttered.

His eyes swirled with confusion until he finally caught the drift. His eyes sunk to the floor. "Oh..." he trailed.

"I don't know how, but Dad knows and I'm scared as shit."

E tensed, "Has he...done anything yet?"

"If by anything you mean hit me... no."

He seemed to relax, "Okay then just talk to him about it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one with the father who cares more for his job than his own sons."

"He brought you here, didn't he?"

"He's up to something, Ethan. How else can you explain your dad and more specifically you being here? Maybe he's going to tie me up and make me watch as he castrates you or something." I narrowed my eyes, "Aren't you supposed to be studying for finals right now?"

He blinked, "Whenever have I ever studied for more than ten minutes and," he gripped me and tugged me closer to him, wrapping a careless, strong, playful arm around me, "He can't have these nuts," he leaned down "They belong to someone already."

"Gross." I whispered and pulled away, much to his amusement. "I'm serious Ethan. This whole trip might be a cover up. He could be planning to drown you and say you 'tripped' in." I outwardly sighed, "He's killed before for lesser reasons."

"Wait, what?"

"Let's just get the bags." I mumbled.

Ethan took a while to start walking. He finally jogged up, laughing nervously beside me, "You're kidding right?"

I stopped and offered him a hand on his shoulder, "Sleep with one eye open, pumpkin." And started walking again.

Ethan and I didn't fish later that day. The Patriarchs took to the lake and had been gone since two in the afternoon.

Ethan was rocking back and forth childishly – foolishly – on his bed with his knees tucked into his chest. I rolled my eyes, "Aren't you taking this a little too far." I mumbled, pointing to the skillet that sat readily beside him.