Thirty Eight

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I stand out side of my father's office and knock on the big wooden door.

"Who is it?" My father asked like he wasn't the one who asked me to come here.

"You know who it is." I say.

There is a pause. I role my eyes. My father is such a drama queen. He makes everything over complicated.

"Aden, you know, your oldest son." I say.

"Ah, yes the one who likes to disobey his father's orders. Come in."

The door opens and I see another one of my father's men standing behind it. He looks just like the one my father sent to the coffee shop. Same beefy build and mean mug.

I step through the door and see my father. Everyone who looks at us says we look just alike. His face is aged and his hair is peppered with gray but we have the same nose and lips. That's probably why my mother named me after him, but she stopped calling me jr after the divorce.

I take a seat in front of my father's desk. His looking at some documents and he doesn't even try to look at me. After several minutes of silence I decided that I have to be the first one to speak.

"You called me here dad. What do you want?" I ask.

"I want you to be mindful of how you speak to the one who pays all your bills." Dad say still looking at his papers.

"What do you want, sir"

Dad finally looks up at me. His face says that he isn't amused. I don't really care. He's not the one who was dragged here against his will.

"I want you to get your stuff and bring it here. I'm done letting the son of the Harris empire get his ass handed to by some low level ghetto scum." Dad said.

"I don't want to live here. I tell you that every time you ask but for some reason you can't seem to understand that."

"Because it doesn't make since to me. I'm offering you the world but instead of being a man you want to be coddled by your mother and that n*gger she married."

"Don't dad. I've told you before not to call him that. His my father too and I'm not going to let you disrespect him and my brother like that. I don't have to sit here and listen to your back of the woods racist bullsh!t. I'm out of here."

I push away from my chair and move to leave. This is another reason why I stay away from this side of the family. They put on a good face out in public but then behind closed doors the claws start to come out.

Dad slammed his fist against his desk. "He's not your father. I am!"

I ignore his out burst and continue to the door.

"He hasn't done nearly as much for you as I have. If it was up to him that low level drug dealer would have probably hospitalized you by now. I hit before he could." Dad says

This is enough to get me to stop. I know for a fact that I didn't tell anyone who Jamal was. There was no way my father should have known that my attacker sold weed.

I slowly turn back around. "What did you do?"

My father smiled and stood up. He walked over to me.

"I protected the Harris name." My father says.

I stare at him with wide eyes. He basically just admitted to attempted murder, which for him wasn't that surprising, but the fact that he took out a hit on someone I know.

"How did you even know about him?" I asked

"You don't think I'd actually let my son and hire move out to the hood without putting some time of protection in place, do you? I've had my eye on you for sometime now."

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