The Bright-Line Kid walked into his father’s office at 5:50 post meridian.
The heads of animals were littered about the walls, each one wearing a medal around it’s neck.
“Champions of death,” said Mr. Hobb, the elder, noticing his son’s sunglass-covered eyes were probably looking at these new additions to the decor.
“Just like I’m a champion of bright-line cases,” said The Kid, smiling like a celebrity and snapping gum like a metronome.
Their voices echoed in the room, standing a great distance apart.
“You next case,” said Mr. Hobbs as he patted his aged fingers on a file and avoided eye contact with his son, who was now approaching.
The Kid snatched the folder off the desk and thumbed through it, occasionally laughing by way of nasal exhalations.
“Hmm? Seem easy, does it?”
“Nah, it’s just these people have funny names.”
“You’ll be meeting with them tomorrow, so it is advisable that you never let that thought exit your brain again.”
“You’re the boss… for now!”
They shared a hearty laugh, though the reasons behind their actions were dissimilar.
“Familiarize yourself with them, my boy, and we’ll discuss this more on the morrow.”
“Hell yeah, I love that bar.”
“On the morrow, not at The Morrow.”
“I didn’t know they had seating on the roof.”
“Decadent Moses, just show up here tomorrow.”
As The Kid left through the double-doors, which were suitable for a giant’s stature, Mr. Hobbs picked up his phone.
“You’ve reached the office of The Bright-Li”
“Am I bad father?”
“Oh, hello Mr. Hobb,” said Abigail, both relieved and excited.
“Well, am I?”
“Of course, not.”
“Then why do I feel like I’ve wasted his life while I should have spent more time sacrificing my own in his name?”
“You have a difficult son.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I think I can smell your perfume through the phone.”
Abigail blushed as she said, “Yes, sir, I’ll have everything you want all laid out on your desk by closing time.”
“Mmm,” moaned Mr. Hobbs, his pants growing more restricting by the second.
“And so you know, sir, I think you are doing the right thing.”
“Oh, thank you, I guess,” he said, feeling his pants fitting better again.
“Don’t doubt this decision for a second, sir.”
“I’ll try. Just make sure the actors are here on time.”
“Yes, sir, I sent the briefs to The Bright-Line Kid’s new ‘clients’ as soon as I received them.”
When the phone was hung up, each party was left with a longing: Abigail longed to still be speaking with Mr. Hobb, who longed to respect his own son.
To Be Continued…