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I open my eyes to see A.J. slowly nodding. As if something has been agreed upon, my father nods back. An unspoken understanding has just occurred between these two men, and I faintly grasp that my father may have just accepted A.J. as a new fixture in our family, while simultaneously threatening his life. I feel like I’m in some kind of Tarantino remake of The Godfather. My father releases A.J.’s hand and turns his attention to me. “You shouldn’t go back to your apartment.” “Agreed.” My father continues as if A.J. hasn’t just spoken. “You’ll come home with me—” “No.” My voice is firm enough to give my father pause. “All right. I’ll book you a suite at the Four Seasons—” “No.” My father chews on the inside of his cheek like he does when he’s frustrated, but trying not to show it. “F
- Writer
